I wasquiet the morning he drove me to volunteer. No more protesting. I had to finish up my time with Cole, and get the hell out. He’d tire of me and let me go. I just had to be a good little Regina, and obey without complaint.
My silent vow lasted until Cole pulled up to a pretty brick building with sign reading “Maple Grove Senior Assisted Living.”
“No,” I said. “This is where you want me to volunteer? No way.”
“You promised.”
“I can’t.”
“Just try. For me. Just do as I say. Don’t think about anything else.”
Silently, I cussed him out.
A well-dressed woman with short, curly hair stood on the curb waiting for me.
“I’m Betty,” she said, shaking my hand. She looked about as old as my mother, and though she had a no-nonsense handshake, she wore a big smile. “I’m the activities director here at Maple Grove.”
Activities director?
She waved goodbye to Cole and turned to me, cocking her head. “Sheriff Townsend says you’re between jobs and volunteering until you find a new career?”
I shrugged. “Something like that.”
“We’ll go easy on you. You’re going to be helping me in the Orchard.”
“The Orchard?”
“What we call the wing of our facility that houses our dementia patients. Right this way.”
I took a moment to mentally murder Cole before I followed.
The door opened to the dreaded scene. But instead of the horror show I expected, I saw a pretty room with cream wallpaper. There were even a few potted plants. Residents in wheelchairs faced a TV, but some also sat at tables playing with a craft.
Everything seemed neat and clean, and while not all of the residents were smiling, it looked like they had a good life. Maybe even better than mom’s in the trailer.
I waited to reserve judgment until after Betty’s tour. She showed me everything, from the kitchen to the residents’ rooms. She ran the residents’ social calendar, and took fun seriously.
“Thursdays Jenny White comes from Licking Hole Fitness and leads the residents in aerobics. Well, she plays music and gets them to move as much as they can. It seems to be good for morale. And Friday we always have a party.”
“What about today?”
“I hoped you might have some ideas,” Betty said. “Why don’t you get out among the residents, see what they’d like?”
By lunchtime—served at 11 am—I mingled with the residents.
“You’re so pretty. Are you married?” a white-haired lady asked.
“Uh, no.”
“But you’re so pretty!”
I saw Betty wave me over, pointing excitedly to a box of supplies. “Uh, thank you. I think I have to go?—”
“Of course. Go cook dinner for your husband.”
“Oh, no, I’m not married.”
“But you’re so pretty!”
