to capture the full view of the once-stately building.
Abby’s heart clutched as she looked at the hospital where a wide concrete drive, now buckled and weed-choked, had cut through once-tended lawns to curve around the fountain. Long ago Abby had sat on the edge of the pool and watched koi darting beneath thick lily pads as sunlight had spangled the water and the spray from the fountain had kissed her skin. She’d been able, from that vantage point, to look up to her mother’s room situated on the third floor behind the tall, arched window.
Abby swallowed hard. How many hours had she spent by the fountain? Now the pond was dry and cracked, the sculptured angels streaked with a green, slimy moss that seemed to track from their eyes like tears.
“Most recently Our Lady of Virtues was used as a hospital for the mentally ill, and though it was privately owned, it, too, suffered when federal funds dried up. Amid allegations of abuse and the apparent suicide of one patient, the facility closed nearly eighteen years ago…”
Abby’s throat tightened. She dropped the sponge and watched the news bite that seemed surreal.
Above the television, mounted on the shelves near the fireplace, was an eight-by-ten picture of her mother, smiling, dark hair pulled away from a beautiful face, no trace of the tortured soul who had hidden behind those wide, amber-colored eyes.
Swallowing hard, Abby walked to the bookcase and took the picture from its resting place. A deep sadness swept through her and she felt a stab of longing to once again see her mother’s frail smile, feel her cool hands holding Abby’s, smell the gentle, clean scent of her perfume.
“…scheduled for demolition, sometime next year if all goes as planned.”
Abby’s head swiveled back to the television screen. They were tearing the old hospital down?
A schematic drawing of a two-story building, very similar in appearance to the old one, but newer, brighter, with more modern touches, flashed onto the screen. Gone were the beveled glass windows, gargoyles on the downspouts, and wide, covered flagstone verandas. The brick would become stucco, the windows wider, the fountain of angels replaced by a metal-and-stone “water feature.”
The screen returned to the newsroom, where the anchor, Mel Isely, sat behind a wide curving desk. In the corner of the screen was an insert of the reporter on the hospital grounds. She was still speaking.
“The plan is that this facility will become a graduated elder care home, starting with assisted-living apartments and including a full-care facility.”
“Thanks, Daria,” the anchor said as the inset of the reporter disappeared and all cameras were focused again on the news desk and Isely, a man Abby had met a few times while she’d still been married to Luke. A smarmy suck-up, she’d thought at the time. He was good-looking, but a little too GQ -esque to suit Abby’s taste in men. “Coming up…Sports,” Isley was saying, while smiling broadly into the camera. She thought he might even wink. She recalled one Christmas charity event when, after a few too many drinks, he’d actually made a pass at her. Now, he picked up the papers on his desk and said, “After the break, we’ll be back with news about the Saints!”
“Save me.” Abby switched off the set and Mel’s face with its startling blue eyes ringed in thick lashes disappeared.
She let out her breath and considered the news report.
So what if the facility where her mother had died was scheduled to be razed? So what if a new building would replace the old? That was progress, right?
Leaving her mother’s picture on the shelf, she walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. No bottled water. “Oh, hell.” She grabbed a glass from the cupboard, then turned on the tap and listened as the old pipes groaned in protest. Resting a hip against the counter, she filled the glass and thought of all the reasons she’d agreed to return to Louisiana in the
Abby’s heart clutched as she looked at the hospital where a wide concrete drive, now buckled and weed-choked, had cut through once-tended lawns to curve around the fountain. Long ago Abby had sat on the edge of the pool and watched koi darting beneath thick lily pads as sunlight had spangled the water and the spray from the fountain had kissed her skin. She’d been able, from that vantage point, to look up to her mother’s room situated on the third floor behind the tall, arched window.
Abby swallowed hard. How many hours had she spent by the fountain? Now the pond was dry and cracked, the sculptured angels streaked with a green, slimy moss that seemed to track from their eyes like tears.
“Most recently Our Lady of Virtues was used as a hospital for the mentally ill, and though it was privately owned, it, too, suffered when federal funds dried up. Amid allegations of abuse and the apparent suicide of one patient, the facility closed nearly eighteen years ago…”
Abby’s throat tightened. She dropped the sponge and watched the news bite that seemed surreal.
Above the television, mounted on the shelves near the fireplace, was an eight-by-ten picture of her mother, smiling, dark hair pulled away from a beautiful face, no trace of the tortured soul who had hidden behind those wide, amber-colored eyes.
Swallowing hard, Abby walked to the bookcase and took the picture from its resting place. A deep sadness swept through her and she felt a stab of longing to once again see her mother’s frail smile, feel her cool hands holding Abby’s, smell the gentle, clean scent of her perfume.
“…scheduled for demolition, sometime next year if all goes as planned.”
Abby’s head swiveled back to the television screen. They were tearing the old hospital down?
A schematic drawing of a two-story building, very similar in appearance to the old one, but newer, brighter, with more modern touches, flashed onto the screen. Gone were the beveled glass windows, gargoyles on the downspouts, and wide, covered flagstone verandas. The brick would become stucco, the windows wider, the fountain of angels replaced by a metal-and-stone “water feature.”
The screen returned to the newsroom, where the anchor, Mel Isely, sat behind a wide curving desk. In the corner of the screen was an insert of the reporter on the hospital grounds. She was still speaking.
“The plan is that this facility will become a graduated elder care home, starting with assisted-living apartments and including a full-care facility.”
“Thanks, Daria,” the anchor said as the inset of the reporter disappeared and all cameras were focused again on the news desk and Isely, a man Abby had met a few times while she’d still been married to Luke. A smarmy suck-up, she’d thought at the time. He was good-looking, but a little too GQ -esque to suit Abby’s taste in men. “Coming up…Sports,” Isley was saying, while smiling broadly into the camera. She thought he might even wink. She recalled one Christmas charity event when, after a few too many drinks, he’d actually made a pass at her. Now, he picked up the papers on his desk and said, “After the break, we’ll be back with news about the Saints!”
“Save me.” Abby switched off the set and Mel’s face with its startling blue eyes ringed in thick lashes disappeared.
She let out her breath and considered the news report.
So what if the facility where her mother had died was scheduled to be razed? So what if a new building would replace the old? That was progress, right?
Leaving her mother’s picture on the shelf, she walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. No bottled water. “Oh, hell.” She grabbed a glass from the cupboard, then turned on the tap and listened as the old pipes groaned in protest. Resting a hip against the counter, she filled the glass and thought of all the reasons she’d agreed to return to Louisiana in the
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