Chapter 4

Katja~

I always had mixed emotions pulling my car into this particular parking lot, but there wasn't anything that I could do about that. As much as I wanted my grandfather at home with me, I didn't have the time or training to take care of him in the way that he deserved and needed. It also didn't matter what my mind knew, because my heart ached every single time that I pulled into the parking lot and drove off from it.

Granted, Windmill Gates was a spectacular place to live as far as assisted living went, but there was a very expensive price tag for the benefits of living here. Unlike lots of elderly residential homes, Windmill Gates didn't have a dorm setting, nor was it set up like a hospital. Instead, it was made up of a bunch of individual bungalows where certain residents were guaranteed privacy. Now, while there was a building that catered to specialized care and was set up like a hospital with a common room, if you were still an abled body, then you got to live in the bungalows, and you were checked on regularly. The bungalows also had panic buttons throughout the rooms, and they also came with two discrete cameras that faced the bathroom door and kitchenette area.

At any rate, my grandfather had been able to procure one of the bungalows, and though it was expensive as hell, it was worth it if it kept his integrity intact. Plus, his bungalow was equipped with support bars, and he never took walks alone. He hadn't fully recovered from his fall, and so someone was always with him if he wanted to hang out in the gardens or take a walk. The care was really worth the cost of admission, but I'd be lying if I'd said that it wasn't a strain. Nevertheless, I'd eat plain noodles for the rest of my life if it meant making sure that my grandfather had the best care possible.

Turning off the ignition, I got out of my car, clicked the key fob to lock it back up, then made my way through the iron gates to go visit the only family that I had left. At eighty-three, I could only pray that I had another ten years with him, then after that, I had no idea what I was going to do. While some people would accuse me of being co-dependent, I saw it as cherishing the only time that I had left with the man that had helped raise me.

Another good thing about Windmill Gates was their security. The entire place was gated, and you actually had to check in through a parking gate, and then after that, you had to check in at the lobby before you were allowed to enter the facility grounds. Again, all of this cost money, but it was worth it to keep your loved ones safe. There were so many nursing homes, assisted-living facilities, and elderly complexes that were absolutely horrible or run by greedy administrations that I was thankful to have my grandfather living here if he couldn't live with me.

Once I got past the lobby, I turned towards the left to where all the bungalows were located. The place had a serene feel to it, and if not for all the older people here, you could actually mistake this place for a vacation spot with how cute the bungalows were.

When I finally reached my grandfather's bungalow, I knocked, then waited patiently for him to answer. Since I knew his routine well, I knew that he'd just finished his walk after dinner, so the rest of the evening could be spent catching up with me fussing over him.

About a minute later, the door finally swung open, and emotion hit me hard in the chest like it always did when my grandfather opened the door, his welcoming smile lighting up his face. His eyes reminded me so much of my mother that it was a bittersweet experience each time that I saw him.

"Beda," he greeted affectionately.

Though I didn't know much Russian, I knew that word like the back of my hand. "If I'm trouble, then it's because you made me that way," I teased before leaning in to give him a hug.

He chuckled good-naturedly. "Ah, I missed my girl."

Doing my best to keep the tears at bay, I pulled back, then looked up at him. "Not as much as I missed you."

Still smiling, he finally stepped back to let me inside, and as soon as he shut the door behind him, I took a seat on the small settee that he had in his living space, and because we were both predictable, he sat in the small rocker next to it. I also wasn't surprised that his place was neat and clean like always. My grandfather had become a minimalist after my grandmother had passed away, and I wasn't sure if that'd been because the memories were too painful, or if he was just trying to make my life easier once he was gone, too.

"So, what new things do you have to tell me since I saw you last?" he asked, and it warmed my heart how he was really interested. If my grandfather was my best friend, then I could only hope that I was his as well.

"I got some flowers yesterday," I answered.

His bushy brows shot upward. "A boyfriend?"

I laughed as I shook my head. "No. I think they're from a client that was just showing their appreciation for my help."

"Dorogoy, it is not good for a young girl to be alone so much," he chided kindly. "Don't you want a family of your own one day?"

"I'm perfectly happy with you," I teased, not wanting to discuss such a painful topic, something that he was aware of but refused to let me hide from it.

Once upon a time, I'd wanted a family. Though not a necessity for me to be happy, I'd dreamt of a husband and a couple of children as part of my future. Between my parents and grandparents, I believed in love, and I absolutely adored children. However, the knowledge that my children would grow up without grandparents or great-grandparents had ruined that picture for me. Now, while I wouldn't say that I was opposed to having a family of my own one day, I also wasn't actively looking to make that particular dream come true.

"You cannot let life frighten your dreams away, dorogoy," he said. "If you do, then you are merely existing in this world, and you were made for so much more than that, Katja."

"I'm not interested in changing the world, Dedushka," I told him. "I like my simple life. I like being able to do my job without interference. I like going home to a peaceful house. I like being able to have crackers for dinner if I want to."

His white brows furrowed. "You had better not be eating crackers for dinner," he scolded. "Your health is not something that you should toy with."

I grinned. "I am not eating crackers for dinner. I was just trying to prove a point."

"Bah," he huffed as he batted a hand my way. "You can prove it another way. Do not make me worry about you, rebenok."

"There's no need to worry about me," I assured him. "Besides, you've got better things to do than worry about me. How's your chess match going with Mr. Reasons?"

"He cheats," he automatically replied. "He's always tipping the board when he's about to lose."

"And how is Mrs. Turnbuckle's great-granddaughter doing?"

"She's just the sweetest thing on earth," he said, smiling fondly over the little girl. "If I could just teach her chess, then everything would be perfect."

"I'm sure it would," I chuckled in agreement. "What about you? How are you doing?"

He let out a deep sigh before saying, "I am getting old, Katja. While my days are still blessed by God, my bones ache and the memories in my head fade a little bit more each night."

Though a troublesome topic for me, my grandfather wasn't afraid to be honest with me. Growing up, he hadn't only told me stories with happily-ever-afters. He'd told me all kinds of stories, some wonderful, some tragic, some simple facts of life. He'd wanted to prepare me for the realities of life, though I'd ended up learning that lesson the hard way.

"You're as sharp as a tack," I argued. "You and I both know it."

He just smiled again. "Sharp enough to know that George Reason cheats at chess."

The rest of the evening was spent talking about the weather, sports, and a crazy television series that my grandfather had gotten hooked on last year. The topics were all mundane but safe. There were times when I could handle trips down memory lane with my grandfather, and other times when I couldn't, and he was astute enough to know when it was safe to touch on serious topics and when it wasn't.

Once it was time for him to go to bed, I kissed his cheek, said my goodbyes, then left him in peace. As usual, I began to miss him as soon as I started walking down the pathway that led back to the lobby, and luckily for me, the staff here was used to seeing family members crying all the time. So, I never felt embarrassed if someone caught me wiping away a tear or two.

When I finally got home, I immediately headed for the shower, hoping that I didn't get any emergency calls tonight. For whatever reason, I was feeling especially exhausted, and it was enough that I was willing to spend money on lunch tomorrow, rather than prep my lunch before going to bed like I usually did. I chuckled as I remembered assuring my grandfather that I didn't eat crackers for dinner, so I'd better not eat them for lunch either.

An hour later, I was crawling into bed, ready to put an end to this day, so that I could get started on tomorrow, and just as I was closing my eyes and getting comfortable, my mind wondered one last time about those damn flowers.