3. Willow

Every partof my body hurts. I"m not used to being this active. I mean, I used to run to keep my feet moving and that would get me ready for the day. But working at Evergreen is a completely different kind of workout. Most of the residents are pleasant. It"s the odd one or two that I try my best to avoid. They"re snarky. I understand that some are frustrated with age, but there is no need to take it out on me, who is just trying to make their lives easier.

The best part of the job is that it is a live-in position. I"d be sleeping on a park bench if it weren"t for my job. So, I would put a smile on my face for the more unpleasant parts of the job. There was an occasional bright spark in my days, and that was when Martha Southern"s grandson came to visit her. A tall, handsome man with light brown hair and mesmerizing blue eyes, he was gorgeous. He had a neatly trimmed beard and many tattoos. The staff drooled when he appeared. I acted indifferent. I didn"t want to be noticed, even if the man gave me butterflies. Working in the assisted living facility is all about staying hidden. No one would think of looking for me here.

Shuddering at the memory of my past, I push my shoulders back and pull my shirt down. I like the fact that we have to wear a uniform to work. I wish mine wasn"t so tight. I"ve always had a bigger chest than my friends and it"s frustrating. I wear a white T-shirt under the shirt in case one of the buttons pops off. No doubt the dirty old men who do nothing but stare at my chest all day would get off on it.

With a sigh, I make sure the door to my private room is locked and make my way down the short hallway and through a set of double doors. A soft buzz hits me the moment I enter the resident's area. I hear Mr. Piermont muttering accusations to whoever is with him, or he could be alone since that hasn"t stopped him in the past. Someone turns on the television and drowns out Mr. Piermont.

"Ah, Willow, can you go get Mrs. Southern? She insisted on waiting for you." Carrie rolls her eyes. "I keep telling her she"ll be in trouble the day you call in sick."

I smile. "Don"t worry, I"ll talk to her about it." I walk down the hallway to my right. I"ll give the facility its due, they really make the place look nice. The walls are painted to look like a field of wildflowers. That always makes me happy. I guess that is what they were going for when they designed it.

I knock lightly on door number thirty-two and enter. I frown and notice that the curtains are still closed. This is unusual. "Mrs. Southern?" I say hesitantly, nerves in my gut churning.

"I"m not dead yet," comes the answer.

"You had me worried there for a moment." I walk over to the bed and pull down the side. "How are you today?"

"I"d be a lot better if that beeping next door hadn"t kept me awake. It was a nuisance."

"The room behind you?" I ask, as the hospital bed is close to that wall.

"No, that one." She waves her hand at the opposite wall.

My frown deepens. "I"ll check it when you"re up." There is no one in that room.

"I"ll come with you. I could use some excitement around here. I"m bored to death. There"s only so much Scrabble and poker one can play."

I snort. "You"re a card shark, Mrs. Southern. I"m surprised the others still invite you."

She chuckles. "My grandson is a sharp tac; he took to it like a duck to water."

I quickly push the image of her grandson out of my mind. That hunk of man can stay out of my head. "So, what"s on the agenda for today?" I steady her arm and help her slide out of bed. She slips her feet into her slippers and marches to the bathroom. "Slow down."

"I"m old Willow, not dead. You need to keep up."

If I didn"t know this woman needed help getting out of bed, getting dressed, and having her meals prepared, I"d wonder why she was here. I should thank my lucky stars that I"m not responsible for one of the more seriously ill residents. Mrs. Southern"s dementia is currently mild.

"So," she begins as soon as she returns from the bathroom, "I would like to wear my green dress and my pearl necklace today." She gives me a whimsical smile. "Nikoli is coming to see me after lunch. I must look my best."

"Where is Nikoli from?" I ask as I pick up the items she wants to wear.

"I thought you were old enough to know about the birds and the bees," she giggles.

My face heats up as I turn to face her. "You know exactly what I meant." I point my finger at her and laugh.

"His mother, June, grew up around hockey. She had a crush on a Russian player named Nikolai. Of course, when she applied for the birth certificate, she left out the "a" in the name." She rolls her eyes. "You"d think with her obsession she would have spelled the name correctly."

I grin. "Her husband doesn"t mind?"

"Well, Nikoli"s father is Nicholas." She shrugs.

"Ah! That makes sense." I smile and help Mrs. Southern into her green dress. I smooth it down for her. "You look lovely."

"Thank you, dear. I will please wear my green Crocs with it."

I giggle as I open the closet door and look down. Her grandson bought the Crocs in green, black, light blue, pink and yellow. "You are lucky to have a grandson who loves you very much."

"Nikoli is a good boy." She adds whimsically, "He didn"t want me to move here. He wanted me to move in with him now that he has his own place." She turns sad eyes to me. "He"s a young man, Willow. His career is going well. I"m nearing the end of my life and I don"t want to burden him with an old woman."

I sniff at the confession. "I"m sure he doesn"t see you as old."

She cackles. "He has eyes, Willow." She lets out a soft chuckle. "If Nikoli had his way, I"d outlive him. Anyway," she pauses, "let"s go see what"s for breakfast."

"I think that"s a wonderful idea."