A severe neck injury did that to you.
The migraine was too far gone to avoid, so I took a dose of my prescription, hoping it would ease the pain once it hit. Cold usually felt good when I was in the midst of one, so I grabbed an ice pack, lay on the couch, and pressed it to my forehead.
And for some reason, I wished I hadn’t left that container of guacamole at my parents’ house.
CHAPTER 4
Penelope
Planters filledwith orange and yellow mums decorated the walkway outside Tilikum Gardens Village. Although the automatic doors weren’t exactly homey, the rest of the lobby was. Overstuffed armchairs sat near a window by the check-in desk, and there were garlands of autumn leaves and mini pumpkins everywhere.
I stopped to sign in at the front desk and said hi to Sarah, the attendant. The entrance lobby opened to a cozy living area with a double-sided gas fireplace in the center of the room. Several residents sat on the couches or chairs, reading or chatting with each other, and a man in a wheelchair thumbed through a magazine. They looked up as I walked by.
“Good morning,” I said with a smile.
There was a chorus of, “Good morning, Penelope!”
“I think Colleen is outside,” one of the ladies said.
“I’ll look there first. Thank you.”
Colleen Wilson, my grandmother on my mom’s side, was born and raised in Tilikum. She’d chosen to move into the assisted living facility about five years ago. She had her own apartment and was still able to do some things independently,but back and hip injuries, coupled with other elements of age, had left her in a wheelchair.
Fortunately, Tilikum Gardens Village was a nice place, and she was thrilled to have someone else cook for her every night.
I visited her every week or two, usually on weekends. She wasn’t the only family I had, strictly speaking. I didn’t have any siblings, and my parents had divorced when I was ten. My dad had been distant from that point on. He’d remarried and moved around a lot, and hadn’t seemed particularly interested in making me a part of anything. My mom had eventually remarried as well, and after I graduated from high school, she and my stepdad had moved to Ohio to be closer to his family.
That had left me and Grandma Colleen. It was why I’d been so adamant about moving back to the area after college and worked so hard to get hired at Tilikum High School—so I could live and work as close to her as possible.
I walked past the fireplace into another sitting area with tables. Two men sat at a table, deeply embroiled in a game of chess, and another resident worked on a puzzle. A few magazines and newspapers were set out, a show played on a mounted TV, and a console table held coffee, tea, and water.
Another set of automatic doors led to a large patio. More yellow and orange mums spilled out of pots next to benches. A path wound through the lawn and large trees bent their branches over the yard, offering shade.
Grandma sat in her wheelchair just past the first bend in the path. She kept her pure white hair long, tied at the nape of her neck, and she’d wrapped a lavender knit shawl around her shoulders.
Before I could say a word, she held up a hand, palm out. I stopped, my lips parted.
Leaning down, she tossed something onto the grass. A moment later, a gray squirrel approached.
“There you go, little one,” she said.
A few more squirrels appeared, scampering over happily to devour the snacks. She sat back and maneuvered her wheelchair so she was facing me. Her warm smile lit up her face.
“Penny,” she said, wheeling herself closer. “How’s my darling girl?”
“Hi, Grandma.” I leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m well. How are you?”
“It’s a beautiful day, and Spritz over there finally decided to come check me out.”
“Spritz?”
She gestured to the squirrels still picking up treats from the grass. “He’s just a baby. Wasn’t so sure about me for a while. But I got him. I always do.”
Tilikum had a love-hate relationship with the squirrel population. They were known thieves and could be quite a nuisance. But Grandma adored them. She’d been making friends with the squirrels for as long as I could remember.
“He’s very cute. Do you know it’s a he?”
She shrugged. “No, but I don’t think he cares if I get it wrong.”
