lifted my spirits, and I knew that to the residents, ‘dog day’ was the highlight of their week, or what they remembered of it.
All the more reason why I was surprised when sour-faced Becky stopped me before I got to the reception desk. “What is that dog doing in here?” she demanded, eying Baxter disdainfully.
“We went through this last week,” I said. “Baxter is a therapy dog. This is our usual day to visit,” I replied.
“I didn’t hear anything about that,” Becky snapped. “You’ll have to go outside until I can confirm.”
I walked back through the door with Baxter, perplexed at Nurse Becky’s rudeness. That’s when I realized that I hadn’t felt the shimmer of the wards that protected the nursing home. That’s odd – and disturbing.
There wasn’t time to ponder it, because Judy came hurrying out to meet me, looking embarrassed. “I am so sorry,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Becky hadn’t followed. “She’s new… doesn’t excuse –”
I shrugged. “Forget about it,” I said. “Baxter doesn’t care, and neither do I.” I paused. “It is okay for us to come in?”
Judy nodded. “Yes. Hell, yes. And I made sure Becky won’t bother you. Come on in.” I followed her, and Baxter trotted in like a celebrity. All he needed was sunglasses.
“What’s new today?” I asked.
“Absolutely nothing, which is how I like it,” Judy said. Being around Judy always made me feel good. I wondered if she had that effect on the residents, too, and whether it was part of her magic. If so, I hoped the nursing home paid her double.
“You want something before we start? Coffee? Water for Baxter?”
“No thanks. We’re ready to get going,” I said as we entered the activity room. I noticed a large framed canvas of an ancient live oak tree with engraved brass name plates on different limbs and branches. A side table beneath the canvas held a bouquet of fresh flowers and a silver candelabrum with unlit white taper candles.
“What’s that?” I asked. I couldn’t help noticing how much the live oak looked like the Angel Oak.
“Do you like it?” Judy asked. “It’s been in the works for a while, but they just hung it up over the weekend, so don’t feel like your memory’s slipping. We added the flowers and candles to make it look festive.”
I got up close and looked at the plaques.
“They’re in memory of residents who have passed on,” Judy said. “It’s our way of honoring them. I think you realize that the staff here gets pretty attached to them.”
Like the real Angel Oak, the tree in the mural had thick limbs and lots of twisting branches, heavy with leaves. There were already a lot of small plaques commemorating former residents.
A few heads turned when Judy had buzzed Baxter and me into the activities room. Several older ladies began to clap, and Baxter – the little show-off – pranced a few steps on his hind feet. Mrs. Peterson and Miss Henderson were playing cards. The TV on the wall was showing 1960s sitcoms, and four residents sat on the couch, some watching, and some dozing. Over to one side, I saw Chuck Pettis and Mr. Thompson playing checkers. Chuck saw me and waved, so we went over there first.
“Nice morning,” Chuck said. He had a different vest on today and I couldn’t hear his protective watches ticking, so I wondered if he switched to digital when he wasn’t demon hunting. I noticed he had an umbrella next to his chair, although it was a sunny day. Next to the umbrella lay a worn backpack. I was willing to bet he had even more ‘surprises’ in his backpack than I had in mine. I guess we both felt jumpy.
“Looks like it’s going to be a nice day,” I replied.
“Humph.” Mr. Thompson did not look up, but he did look down at Baxter, who presented himself to be petted. I lifted Bax and looked for a nod to say it was okay to put Baxter in his lap. Baxter cuddled in and looked up with his black-button eyes, confident he could melt even Mr. Thompson’s heart. Old Man Thompson finally relented and managed half of a smile.
“Cute little fellow. Reminds me a lot of a dog I used to have. Tilly. Did I ever tell you about Tilly?” he asked as his gnarled, calloused hand stroked Baxter’s head.
I smiled and shook my head, ready to hear Tilly’s story again. Meanwhile, I noticed that Mr. Thompson, Josiah