Franny was alone. No one in her apartment, not even Adam, who had wandered off two years ago when he graduated from Georgia College. Her forever love was forever no more. She had lost out to some hussy from Dunwoody. His college research projects had involved more than academics, and his research partner had become his new "project."
Well, too bad, so sad. It didn't take her long to get over him. Only the last two years. But today, she was ready to set him aside. Ready to turn the page on her sadness and concentrate on her career. There were other fish in the sea. It's just that in Crowley, it was more like a pond, and not a very well-stocked one at that.
Now was not the best time to look for somebody else. COVID-19 was running ragged here like it was everywhere else. Some in Dixon County thought they were not a part of it, that it was really a big city problem. Let Atlanta (and damn Dunwoody) worry about it. No need here in rural Southeast Georgia.
She showered and then dressed for work. She put on her nurses uniform, all white and starchy fresh. Maybe not everyone would consider her a raging success (not no fancy Georgia College grad, anyhoo), but she felt good about herself. That LPN certificate meant the world to her. And who knows? Maybe someday she'd shoot the moon and go for RN status.
She got in her car, just an old Honda Fit, but it was all hers, paid for free and clear. She had a tote bag with her (Dixie Chick tote - featuring Natalie Main singing her heart out), with things she would need as she got closer to work.
As she pulled into the parking lot, she noticed the flashing lights of an ambulance, and of a police car. That's not good. She took her mask out and slipped it on. It was a homemade mask, made from cloth fabric swatches. The facility was not providing N95 masks, or anything else.
At the entrance to where she worked, the Crowley Baptist Retirement Village, she saw the Deputy Sheriff, Davis Gorland. He was a big man, although he seemed to have lost at least a little weight recently. Franny felt like Davis was sort of sweet on her, but she wasn't interested. Not because he was big, but because he was about fifteen years older than her. Besides, she really wasn't interested in anybody. Not right yet.
Davis was wearing a mask, just like she was. Not many were wearing them yet in the county, not outside of the medical places, anyways.
"Hey, Davis!" said Franny. "What's going on?"
Davis straightened up, trying to look tall and straight, sucking in his gut as best he could. "Hey, Franny! Good to see you!"
Franny smiled underneath her mask. Davis couldn't see that, only the concern reflected in the exposed parts of her face. "Good to see you, too, I guess. I mean, it's nice to see you, but I'm worried about what brings you out to the Village."
Davis put his hands together, bowed his head as if weighed down, and reluctant to say what he had to. "It's Rebecca Cooper. I'm afraid she's got the COVID."
Franny couldn't stop the gasp that escaped from her mouth. "What? No! Are they sure?"
"I'm afraid so. Test came back positive this morning. They're going to take her to Satilla Memorial. It looks like she's gonna need a ventilator."
Franny was just about in tears. Not Rebecca Cooper! She was such a wonderful lady! It's true she suffered from dementia, but she was so happy and kind all the time, even if most of the time, she thought it was 1949. At 94, she was one of their oldest residents. They hadn't a centenarian since her great-grandmother, Mattie Goodkind, had passed five years ago at 104. Mattie was determined to outlive their oldest ever resident, Rachel Compton, who had lived to be 105, dying on her birthday, collapsing into her Pogo cake.*
"This is terrible," Franny said. "I love Rebecca!"
"I know," said Davis sympathetically. He reached out to pat her arm, thought better of it, and pulled it back away. "They'll need to test all the other residents. Well, they should, but you know, test access is limited around here, so at first, it may be just those who show any kind of sign of it. You might be prepared, Franny. They'll probably want to test some staff as well."
"That's fine. Whatever's needed."
"Think about it, Franny. You might want to go back home and let things settle out first. No need to put yourself at risk unnecessarily."
Franny shook her head, rejecting that crazy notion. "Now, Davis Gorland! You know better than that, you being a servant of the public and all. I'm going to go in there and help wherever I can. These people mean the world to me, and I intend to be there for them."
Davis sighed. "I understand, Franny. I'm sorry. I can't help but be concerned. You're one of the nicest people I know."
"It's okay. I'm glad you care. It's one of the things that makes you such a good cop."
"Thanks, Franny. I do my best." He paused, cleared his throat, and decided to tell her his other bit of news. "It ain't just here, Franny. It's other places in the county as well. You know how Pastor Dan insisted the New Life Baptist Church continue services? Well, guess what group has twelve tested positive, including Pastor Dan?"
Franny was not a Pastor Dan fan, tracing back to when he and his church treated Racine Steel so poorly. But even she didn't wish that kind of ill on him. "Well. That was a mistake."
Davis guffawed. "Mistake? It takes a special brand of idiot to think that you could keep up that kind of close contact in an outbreak like this."
"You're probably right. Well, Davis, I better go in now. Thanks for the information. You take care of yourself."
Davis nodded to Franny as she went by. "You too, Franny. Keep that mask on tight!"
So, Dixon County wasn't special. COVID-19 was here, big time.
If only Franny could see the whole county...
She would see the people congregating around Satilla River, unprotected and close.
She would see whole families at Yeltins IGA dancing up and down the aisles, colliding with customers and grocery staff alike.
She would know that this wasn't ending anytime soon, and that it was going to be made much worse by people's behavior.
God help protect Rebecca Cooper, and all the residents and staff of Crowley Baptist Retirement Village.
God help protect all the people of Dixon County, the wise and foolish alike.
* Please see the story A Crowley Celebration of Longevity for more about Rachel Compton and Mattie Goodkind.
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