Grave Intentions Read Free

With her demanding schedule at the lab, she wasn’t home enough to keep watch over her, and the thought of Pearl wandering off on her own gave Sarah the shivers. “Is there anything you can do?”
    Dr. Patel picked up his pen again, clicking it a few more times before setting it back down. “For the short term, I’d like to increase the dosage of her medication. With your permission, of course.”
    “What would it do to her?” Sarah asked, the memory of her mother in an anti-psychotic stupor still fresh in her mind. The last thing she wanted was a repeat performance by her grandmother. “I don’t want her drugged senseless.”
    “She won’t be,” Patel said with a shake of his head. “I firmly believe in quality versus quantity of life, Ms. Griffith. The increased dosage would only serve to calm her down and make her less prone to episodes like the one we witnessed earlier today.”
    Sarah fell quiet for a moment, weighing her options. In the past six months, she’d come to respect Dr. Patel and valued his opinions. While he had the business acumen of a seasoned administrator, he was also a doctor, one deeply committed to the care of his patients. Which meant he didn’t strike her as the type to unnecessarily dope up little old ladies. Still, she bristled at the notion of drugging her grandmother into submission. While Pearl had her quirks, she was a warm, loving woman who deserved to live out the remainder of her life with some semblance of dignity.
    “Can I speak to her, please?” she asked. “Perhaps, if I talk to her, I can convince her to tone down the Miss Cleo routine.”
    “And if that doesn’t work?” Patel asked, his expression doubtful.
    “If it doesn’t work, I’ll authorize the medication.” She flashed Patel a hopeful smile. “When can I see her?”
     
    “Can you believe this?” Pearl said when Sarah walked into her room. She set down the August edition of Reader’s Digest and slid off her reading glasses, letting them dangle from the silver chain around her neck. “The nerve of these people, sending me to my room like a petulant child!”
    “Grandma,” Sarah said, feeling awkward about lecturing the woman who’d raised her from the age of seven. At what point had the roles reversed? She honestly couldn’t say. The process had occurred so gradually over time, it almost seemed like a natural progression.
    She leaned over and gave her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. “You have to understand, you can’t go around telling people they’re about to die. You scared poor Dolores half to death.”
    “Nothing for her to be scared of,” Pearl said, her voice thin yet defiant. “Death is a natural part of life. I was just giving her the courtesy of an advance warning.”
    Sarah took the chair beside Pearl’s bed and set her purse on the floor. “And exactly how do you know Dolores is going to die tomorrow?”
    Pearl’s lips pressed into a pale, thin line. “Because, Gordon told me so.”
    Oh boy. She was pretty sure she knew where this was heading. “And who’s Gordon?”
    “Dolores’s husband. He died the end of last year. Poor fellow had a stroke, right after bingo,” Pearl replied, her fingers toying with the chain holding her glasses. “I saw a vision of him yesterday, out in the main hall. He told me he was happy because he and Dolores were going to be together again, real soon. I asked him when, and he said tomorrow afternoon.”
    Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered a barely audible, “Jesus Christ.” How come psychics never had any worthwhile visions, like next week’s Powerball numbers or the name of the winning horse in the Kentucky Derby?
    “You know I’m telling the truth!” Pearl spoke with such passion that for a moment Sarah understood why Dolores had taken her grandmother’s words so seriously.
    But she knew better.
    No, she knew there were no such things as ghosties and ghoulies and things that go bump in the night. They were little more