Part 5
Gabriel arrived at the hospice office ten minutes early, wearing his hospital badge and carrying a notebook from the maintenance department. Elise came from Milwaukee with Nora’s medication list and the expression of someone prepared to challenge every plan that assigned her more hours than a week contained.
The hospice nurse made one point twice: the service would provide visits, equipment, medications related to comfort, and help by phone at any hour. It would not place a caregiver beside Nora around the clock. If she wanted to remain outside a nursing facility as her needs grew, family, friends, and paid help would have to cover the spaces between visits.
“I can do two nights a week,” Elise said. “Not seven. I still have a company, in case anyone remembers.”
Gabriel looked at his shift calendar. “Evenings most days. Alternate weekends. I can’t promise mornings.”
Nora’s first impulse was to say she required none of it. The nurse had already watched her struggle to write the date. Denial would not sound proud in this room, only inaccurate.
“I can pay for an aide overnight,” she said. “I signed a health-care power of attorney naming Elise. Gabriel is the family contact for the hospice team, if he agrees. No one leaves work because I refused a facility.”
Elise had brought the signed copy.
Gabriel wrote that down before he answered. “I agree.”
Dr. Shah had explained the narrow chance and likely burden of another treatment, then made the hospice referral when Nora chose comfort-focused care.
Nora turned the form so Gabriel and Elise could read it, waited until neither had another question, and then signed. The letters wandered upward more than the signature on the propane order.
Elise capped the pen. Gabriel closed his notebook without looking at either of them.
Nora’s townhouse in Milwaukee had stairs to the bedroom and sat ninety miles from Gabriel and Maisie. Her local rental ended March first; its owner would not permit the safety changes she needed.
Room Six had a kitchenette, full bath, level entrance, and easy access to the local hospital. Harborlight would remain unsold until late spring. After two grab bars, a small ramp, and a home-safety visit, the hospice team approved the plan.
Gabriel objected to the ramp Nora’s contractor proposed. “It blocks the utility shutoff.”
“Move the shutoff.”
“For six thousand dollars? Move the ramp eighteen inches.”
Nora turned to the contractor. “Move the ramp.”
Gabriel glanced at her, surprised. She disliked how much the surprise cost.
Before moving in, Nora asked him to meet her in the motel office. The master keys lay between them beside a copy of the withdrawn five-year lease. Her attorney joined by speakerphone.
“The lease and education account stay withdrawn,” Nora said. “Harborlight will be sold after winter. Before it is listed, you and Maisie may choose personal things connected to Calvin. Is that acceptable?”
Gabriel studied her face rather than the papers. “Yes.”
“Do you want anything else from this property?”
He picked up a brass tag stamped 6. “This, when you no longer need it.”
“Done.”
The attorney confirmed Nora’s will: Elise would serve as personal representative, the firm’s buy-sell agreement would govern Nora’s share, and the remaining estate would go to a regional preservation foundation. Then he left the call. Nora slid the master ring toward Gabriel.
He did not touch it. “What is that for?”
“Harborlight’s furnace, office, storage rooms, and emergency access to Six. You know the building. I need someone local to have the keys.”
“Ask me.”
It seemed petty for half a second. Then Nora understood that the exact words were the point.
“Will you take responsibility for the keys while I am here?”
“Yes. Until the property sells or I tell you I can’t.”
Nora placed the ring in his open hand.
Room Six filled with equipment gradually: a narrow hospital bed near the window, a shower chair, a locked box for medication. Nora insisted on keeping the motel’s scarred nightstand and blue wool blanket. Maisie made a visit calendar, taped it inside the closet door, and wrote the name of whoever would come each day. She drew four kittens along the bottom margin.
“Blue can’t visit until the kittens have homes,” Gabriel said. “Too much moving.”
Nora looked at Maisie. “Then she doesn’t visit yet.”
Three kittens went to screened adopters after they were old enough. Cricket stayed with Blue and the Mercers. Maisie brought photographs instead: Cricket asleep in a mixing bowl, Blue occupying Gabriel’s clean laundry, both cats staring through the duplex window at a squirrel beyond their jurisdiction.
Nora’s first week at Harborlight contained good mornings and bad afternoons. She could walk the length of the porch with a cane. She could also forget the name of the motel while sitting beneath its sign. Gabriel repaired what she permitted, cooked what she could tolerate, and went home before her overnight aide arrived.
One evening, the aide was delayed by a car that would not start. Elise was in Milwaukee. Nora’s headache had sharpened, and the rooms beyond Six seemed to tilt toward the lake.
Gabriel called the hospice number, followed the nurse’s instructions, and settled Nora after the medication took effect. At eleven, the private home-care agency’s replacement aide arrived and he put on his coat. Maisie was already asleep at the downstairs neighbor’s under the backup plan they used for his late shifts.
The old Nora would have thanked him and waited until the door closed before admitting fear to the empty room. Nora looked at the brass key in his hand.
“Stay until morning,” she said. “If you can.”
Gabriel texted Mrs. Alvarez downstairs and waited for her reply. Then he took off his coat. “I can.”
He did not sit beside her bed and turn the night into a farewell. He carried the loose window latch to the bathroom table and filed the corroded edge until it fit. Nora fell asleep to the quiet rasp of metal being made useful again…
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