A Storied Man

Bernie is a poverty-stricken woman whose life takes an unexpected turn when an old friend returns to town. This is Part Twelve.

Parts: 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11|12|The End

Related reading: Talk With a Killer, Wall

Part Twelve

Bernie noticed that the nurse’s name badge said, “Judy.” She liked her, and even though she couldn’t say it, knowing her name took her one step closer to the real world. Right now, though, she wanted to know about someone else.

“Shonda?” Bernie wrote.

Judy nodded. “We all know Shonda. Tina should be calling her right now.”

Bernie smiled, then furrowed her brow. “Tina?” she wrote.

“Oh, Tina’s the other nurse on shift with me. Shonda wanted to know the minute you showed any sign of change, good or bad. She’s been real worried about you.”

Bernie let that sink in. It was a new feeling for her. Sure, she had a few people around town who helped her occasionally, but how many of them would worry about her if she just disappeared?

“She’s not the only one who’s been asking after you.” Judy opened a closet door to Bernie’s right; she hadn’t noticed it when it was closed. On the door hung what looked like a garment bag, but it was made of clear pockets large enough for greeting cards.

All of them were full. The cards bore messages ranging from “Get Well Soon” to “Thinking About You,” in greens, reds, blues, and other colors that helped add life to the room.

Bernie’s eyes watered. Her chin quivered and she shook enough to send tears spilling over her eyelids and streaming down her face.

A familiar voice came from the room door. “And you should have seen all the flowers at first.”

Bernie turned her head slowly. Shonda rushed over and set two cans of soda — a Coke and a Diet RC — on a table beside the bed. She laid a palm on Bernie’s forehead and pushed back a few straggling hairs. “I can’t believe you’re awake!” she said. “I tried to be calm, because they told us to if this happened, but dammit I want to jump around!”

“Go ahead, she seems fine,” Judy said.

Shonda stood and pumped her first while thrashing her head around. “Yeah! Yeah! Hell yeah!”

Bernie tried to laugh, but it didn’t work. She smiled wide instead.

Another nurse walked in. “Judy, the doctor is on her way.” Then, to Bernie, “Welcome back, Ms. Maven.”

Searching for some way to say, “Thanks,” from across the room, Bernie nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, then looked up at her and smiled.

Shonda straightened her blouse and pushed a few straggling hairs behind her ears. “Okay, I think that’s all of that for now.” She composed herself and her smile faded to a toothless grin. “You’ve been to Hell and back. As soon as you’re ready, we’re going to celebrate.”

“That’s going to be a while,” Judy said.

“Who saved me?” Bernie wrote.

“Our surgical team spent hours working on you, but no single person, really.”

Bernie shook her head and scribbled out more. “No. I was passed out in a shack.” She consciously wrote “a” instead of “my.” She motioned to Shonda to come read it.

“Who saved you from your shack?” Shonda said. “Glenda.”

Bernie’s eyes opened wide. “Not dead?” she wrote.

“Not even close. She was hurt, but she played possum. She figured if Nathan tried anything else on you, she would catch him by surprise, but after he left, she just picked you up and walked out to West Main to flag down a car. Tough lady.”

Nathan? Bernie’s heart raced. She tried to write a note saying it was Jeff.

“Calm down, Bernie. I can’t read that.”

“Her heart rate is 100 and her BP’s rising,” Judy said.

The other nurse rushed back into the room.

Bernie didn’t want to be drugged. She needed answers, so she tried to rein in her reaction. Why do they think it was Nathan?

“She’s leveling off,” Judy said. “There. I think she’s okay.”

Bernie fought to keep her hand still enough to write. “It was Jeff,” she wrote.

Shonda looked at it a moment, then seemed to comprehend. “No, sweetie, it was Nathan. Nathan Kern, from Pop Kern’s store. Glenda said she got a good look at him. Maybe you’re just getting confused because you’ve been out for so long, and Jeff was on your mind that night.”

“Confusion about the trauma is not unusual,” Judy said.

Bernie nodded and poked the notepad repeatedly. It was Jeff! It was Jeff!

“Jeff was with Jeremy at a movie,” Shonda said. “Look, I know I freaked you out a little bit when I told you all that stuff, but Jeff could never do that to you. He was into you. Besides, you know Nathan’s had it out for you since high school. When we saw him at the store that day and he saw you doing better, it must have pushed him over the edge.”

But you told me you thought staying away from Jeff was a good idea. Stupefied, Bernie closed her eyes.

“I can’t believe you almost died, Bernie,” Shonda said. “I died twice, but the doctors brought me back to life with toothpaste and extracted the devil from my rectum.”

“We do have excellent surgeons,” Judy said.

They both smiled with mouths somehow too wide, and sinister, unblinking eyes.

“Whatsa matter, Bernie, vent got your tongue?” Shonda said and laughed maniacally.

I must be dreaming. Please, somebody wake me up!

“Ms. Maven, can you hear me?” said a voice she did not recognize.

Bernie opened her eyes. A woman, maybe 50 years old, leaned over her and shined a penlight in her eyes. Bernie squinted.

Behind the woman, the same painting of a flowery field hung on the wall. “In case of emergency, press red call button,” was printed on the sign beneath it.

How much of that was a dream?

Her muscles tense, she turned her head. Shonda sat in a chair reading a book called Make Your Travel Dollars Worth a Fortune. On the table, next to two sodas, was another book, its cover advising, Fly Free, Stay Cheap.

Bernie tapped the bed rail.

Shonda looked up. “Hey, you’re awake,” she said and put both hands around one of Bernie’s. “You think you might stay awake this time? You’ve been in and out all day.”

Unsure how much had been real, Bernie looked over to the closet door. The greeting cards still were there.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry about what happened to you. I just can’t believe it.” Shonda said.

Bernie relaxed. “Glenda?” she wrote.

“You remember that Glenda was there? She saved you. Somehow dragged herself and you to the foreman’s trailer. Thank God he was there doing some paperwork. Glenda insisted he help you instead of her. So, he used whatever first aid and CPR skills he had and kept you alive until the EMT’s got there. By then, Glenda was dead. Poor thing.

“With her gone, the police had nothing to go on. Somebody told them there was animosity between you and her, so at first they thought you two had been in a fight. Do you remember what happened?”

“Jeff did it,” Bernie wrote.

Shonda jerked her hands away from Bernie and put them on her horrified face. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I never should have let you out of the car that night.” She grabbed Bernie’s hand again. “I tried to tell Jeremy it might have been Jeff, but he wouldn’t listen. He started to believe me a couple weeks later, though.

“After Jeff went back to Curtiston, he had a blowup with a man who was trying to force him out of office. The guy turned up dead and someone reported seeing somebody who looked like Jeff leaving the scene. Now he’s sitting in Lawson County Jail waiting to be transferred for trial. I’m sure the prosecution will want to hear your story, as soon as you feel up to it. That sick son of a bitch.”

Bernie squeezed Shonda’s hand and wrote, “I will tell them everything.”