Thelma Haggard's death was not unexpected.

The ninety-year-old woman had died peacefully in her bed yesterday during her afternoon nap, just missing an early evening performance by the First Christian Church choir. The decision to let her expire without intervention had been difficult for her family, despite her obvious decline. But while they had mourned her passing last night, another family no doubt rejoiced at the news of an empty bed at the Sumter County Long-Term Care Facility, known by everyone in town as the nursing home.

Beth Hester smoothed the linens on the bed before she ripped open the plastic package on the new pillow. The room's next occupant, Violet Pippin, was due to arrive by ambulance from the hospital any minute. According to the briefing this morning, Mrs. Pippin had suffered a serious stroke, and home health care would not be sufficient to meet her needs. Many patients ended up at the nursing home under similar circumstances.

Beth knew Mrs. Pippin, as did most people who had grown up in Sumter, Tennessee. The elderly woman retired several years ago as a county librarian. She lived in one of those old frame houses two blocks off Sumter's main street, the ones the yuppies were buying up for outrageous sums and renovating. Her husband had died six or seven years ago, Beth recalled. And they had raised their granddaughter, a girl who had gone to school with Beth's younger sister.

The room was ready. All it needed now was—

"Slow down! You're not hauling a sack of feed." A young woman's angry voice boomed throughout the wing.

Beth stepped into the hall to check out the commotion. She recognized the irate woman at once as her sister's former classmate, Mrs. Pippin's granddaughter. Audie—that was her name. She instantly recalled that, as a high school student playing basketball, Audie Pippin had a fiery streak, much like the one on display now.

"I'm okay, sweetheart. They didn't hurt me."

"Lucky for them."

The old woman reached out to take her granddaughter's hand. "You need to take it easy and not get so upset."

Audie leaned over and met her grandmother's eye. "They shouldn't have taken that corner so fast. They could have tipped you over."

Beth hurried up the hall to meet the ambulance crew. "Can I help here?"

Audie jerked her thumb in the direction of the attendants. "These guys act like there's a checkered flag at the end of the hall."

Beth made it a point to smile at the jibe, hoping an understanding look would dispel a bit of the young woman's obvious ire. "You're Audie Pippin, right?"

She nodded, seemingly startled to hear her name.

Beth drew closer and followed Audie's eyes to the nametag on her light green uniform. "I'm Beth Hester, Kelly's older sister. I recognized you from when you two played basketball together at Sumter High."

"Right." Audie looked back at the elderly woman on the gurney. "This is my grandmother, Violet Pippin. She's supposed to be here for a few weeks while she gets better. She had a stroke."

"Hello, Mrs. Pippin. We're very glad to have you here." Beth shot the youthful attendants a scolding look. This wasn't the first time someone had complained about their careless manner. "Why don't I lead the way to your new home away from home?"

"Temporary home away from home," Audie interjected.

Beth gave her what she hoped was a reassuring look. "I can get her settled in her room while you check in at the office." She pointed toward the nurse's station. "They'll give you an information packet with some forms. Bring it down to room twenty-three if you want and I'll help you fill everything out."

"Hear that, Grammaw? I need to go do some paperwork. I'll be down there in a minute." She looked directly at Beth. "You'll make sure she's okay?"

"Of course." Despite Audie's challenging tone when she first walked in, Beth was touched to see the young woman's unabashed devotion to her grandmother. She would take this attitude any day over what she usually saw—families who tucked away their elderly relatives with empty promises to come visit. Some of the residents here were lucky to get one visitor a month.

Beth watched as Audie turned and walked stridently toward the office. Then she patted Violet's hand and bent low to whisper in her ear. "Do these guys drive an ambulance as bad as they drive a gurney?"

Violet chuckled. "You have to forgive my granddaughter. She's been upset about this ever since Dr. Hill put me on the list to come here."

Beth strained to understand the garbled words, a hallmark of strokes that paralyzed some of the facial muscles. "It's a difficult time, Mrs. Pippin. Change can be hard on everybody. But Audie will feel better once she sees how well we take care of people here."

She led the attendants to the empty room where they backed the gurney into the space between the bed and the recliner.

"Let's have you try out the bed first, okay? I want to get it adjusted just right and show you where everything is."

Beth stepped out of the way to allow the young men to make the transfer. Then she followed them back into the hallway as they prepared to leave. "Hey, guys." She lowered her voice, and her tone was serious. "You need to slow down when it's not an emergency. Imagine how you'd feel if you were already afraid of coming here and that was your first experience."

One of the men nodded sheepishly as the other looked away, a childish smirk on his face. Without another word, they continued slowly down the hall and disappeared around the corner to the ambulance bay. Beth returned to Violet's room, her cheerful demeanor back in place.

"This room has a pretty nice view, Mrs. Pippin." She flung back the curtain to reveal a sprawling lawn lined with oak trees. "When it's not so hot, people sit out there and visit with their families. I tell you, this has been the hottest August of my whole life."

"Call me Violet," the woman rasped.

"Excuse me?"

Violet cleared her throat. "You can call me Violet."

"That's going to be pretty hard for me after calling you Mrs. Pippin all those years at the library."

The old woman laughed. "Then call me Miss Violet. That's what the children in the neighborhood call me."

"I'll try, but it's going to take some getting used to." She walked over and stood between the two doors on either side of the entrance to the room. "Okay, you ready for the grand tour of your temporary home?"

Miss Violet's eyes twinkled as she smiled. "You have my full attention, Miss Hester."

"If I'm going to call you Miss Violet, you have to call me Beth. In fact, you have to call everyone on the staff by their first names because we aren't trained to answer to anything else." Beth laughed as she opened the closet door first. "This is your closet. You can keep your skateboard in here." She flashed a mischievous grin. "And there is an extra blanket on the top shelf if you get too cold. All you have to do is ask for help and someone will get it for you."

Miss Violet smiled and nodded to indicate her understanding.

Beth then opened the other door. "And this is your private bathroom. The charge nurse on second shift—her name's Norma. She's the boss here at night. She'll come see you after dinner this evening to do an assessment. She needs to know what sorts of things you need help with and what you can do on your own. Don't be afraid to speak up anytime you want help. That's what we're all here for."

"My left leg doesn't work much anymore…or my arm." Then she gestured toward the left side of her face, which drooped slightly.

"I saw that in the chart Dr. Hill sent over this morning. In fact, he wants you to get some physical therapy and speech therapy to see if we can improve that a little. We'll probably start later this week."

"Whatever you say."

"And here's the last thing." Beth picked up the remote that controlled the bed. "I need to show you how to work all these buttons. She deftly looped the remote around the top of the bed so that it rested on the other side. "But it wouldn't do us any good if we left all the buttons on that side, would it?"

"Useless."

"Okay, the top ones with the picture of the bed make you sit up or lie down, and the bottom ones control your knees. Just press whichever arrow you want. The light bulb picture turns on the light over your head like this." She demonstrated. "And this red button is to call the staff. We come around pretty often anyway to make sure you're comfortable and have everything you need, but you can press this whenever you want someone to come help. Got all that?"

"Grammaw?" Audie came into the room with her packet and her grandmother's overnight bag.

"I was just showing your grandmother where everything is so she can make herself comfortable."

Audie spun around to take in the features. "Well, at least this room's a little nicer than the one Grampaw had. You've got a window." As she peered out onto the lawn, she slapped the concrete block wall and added, "But it's just as depressing, isn't it?"

Beth studied the tall, lanky woman from across the room. Audie was Kelly's age, about twenty-four, but she still had the shape of a teenager, slender and straight. Her reddish-brown hair was tied into a ponytail that hung through the hole in the back of a plain black baseball cap. Her purse was a small ragged backpack slung over a shoulder, and she wore frayed jeans and a tight black T-shirt.

"It always looks pretty drab at first. But after you bring in some pictures for the bulletin board and personal items to decorate, it starts to look a little more like home."

"Home looks like home. I told you, Grammaw's not going to be here that long, just till she can get around on her own again."

Beth held up a hand and nodded. "Right, I understand. I'm just thinking that even if your grandmother is only going to be here for a little while, she'll probably enjoy having some of her things. What could it hurt?" She looked at Miss Violet for confirmation. "Right?"

"I wouldn't mind having a few pictures…and maybe my flowerpot off the back porch. At least then I won't have to worry about who's watering it." She said the last bit with a chuckle.

"Hmpff! You're worried about those old weeds?" Audie smiled and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. "All right, I guess I can bring a few things over. But don't get too comfortable, 'cause I don't plan on leaving you here in this…crappy place."

Beth felt her defenses go up, but she bit her tongue. She reminded herself that Audie probably didn't know enough about the nursing home for that to be a real assessment. She was just reacting to the difficult circumstances.

"You want me to bring Buster over to see you?"

The mention of Buster brightened Miss Violet's face.

Beth softened as she saw the love that passed between the old woman and her granddaughter. "I take it Buster's your dog?"

"Grammaw's dog," Audie corrected. "He's half lab, half border collie."

"He's a border mutt," Miss Violet corrected. "But don't listen to Audie. Buster knows whose dog he is."

"You should bring in a picture of him and we'll put it on the bulletin board. Oh!" Beth got up and went to the window. "And he can even visit out in the backyard."

"That's a good idea." Audie addressed her grandmother. "You haven't seen him since you went into the hospital. I can bring him tomorrow morning and play Frisbee back there."

"Mornings aren't all that good for visiting," Beth said. "There's a lot going on…breakfast, baths, medication. Two to five is probably the best time to visit."

"I work eleven to seven at the animal shelter. Morning is the only time I can come, except on my days off."

"It's okay then, we'll work around it. Regular visits are best, no matter what time of day."

"Oh, I'll be regular. I'll be coming by here every single day to check on things, so you might as well get used to seeing my face."

Though it sounded like a challenge, Beth wouldn't rise to it. "Believe me, I'd love to see family members coming by every day. Our residents do so much better when their families visit. And it gives them something to look forward to."

"She's not going to be here very long, just until she can get around again."

"Nothing makes us happier than to see people go back home." Though it rarely happened. "Would you like some help with that packet?"

"Sure." Audie sat on the edge of the bed as Beth perched on the arm of the recliner. "This one says…inventory of personal items. It's a checklist."

"Right. It's just for special items, like TVs or CD players, or any furniture you want to bring in. The next page is a list of things we like to have on hand, like gowns, socks, robes, things like that." Beth turned to Miss Violet. "We write your name in your clothes so we won't get your things mixed up in the laundry. Don't bring in anything you don't want your name on."

"Grammaw, do you want me to bring your TV?"

"Maybe the little one from the back room."

"Okay." Audie jotted herself a note at the bottom of the sheet. "So you need me to bring all these things, seven gowns, seven pairs of socks, two pairs of slippers…"

"That's right. Just go down the list at home and check these off."

"And what's this part?" She pointed to the bottom section.

"Those are things we recommend our patients leave at home or with family members. Jewelry, cash, important papers."

"Can I keep my wedding ring?" Miss Violet asked.

Beth sighed softly. "We'd prefer that you give it to Audie, Miss Violet."

"Because they're afraid somebody that works here might steal it," Audie said gruffly.

She cocked her head and looked Audie directly in the eye. "Because people often lose a good bit of weight when they first get here while they're trying to get used to the meal and snack schedules. We would feel awful if it became lost for any reason."

With her good hand, Miss Violet tugged the small band from her ring finger and handed it to her granddaughter. "You can put this in my jewelry box with your Grampaw's for now, honey."

Audie dropped the ring into the front pocket of her jeans.

"But don't run it through the wash. You might tear up the washing machine."

"Think you're funny, don't you?" Audie shot her grandmother a devilish grin before continuing through the packet. "Okay, what's this one?"

"That's the durable power of attorney. It designates someone to be in charge of your grandmother's affairs, like paying bills and managing property."

"We already signed one of those in the hospital."

"I know, but this one's durable. That means it continues even if—" Beth stopped short. "You know, you should probably go over these next couple of forms with Clara. She's our social worker."

Audie ignored her, flipping over to the next form. "What's this one?"

Beth took it from the packet and swallowed nervously. She had a gut feeling this page wouldn't go over well at all. "We call this a DNR, for Do Not Resuscitate. It's for you to specify the level of care you want in certain circumstances. Like I said, Clara can explain—"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Audrey Jane, watch your mouth!" Even after her stroke, Miss Violet's scolding came through loud and clear.

"Grammaw, they want permission to stand by and do nothing when you're just choking on a grape. You got here ten minutes ago and already they want your bed for the next person."

"Behave yourself!"

Audie stared at her shoes, her face growing redder by the second. It was clear she didn't want to erupt again in front of her grandmother, so it was no surprise to Beth when she suddenly slammed the packet down on the bed and stormed out of the room.

Beth took notice of the car keys still on the windowsill and knew Audie would be back after she cooled down. "I'm sorry, Miss Violet. I can send Clara down here to go over this. She's better at explaining all the technical parts. Or maybe Audie would prefer to talk to our director, Hazel Tilton."

"You have to forgive my granddaughter, Beth. She was hoping they would find a full-time nurse and let me come home, but Dr. Hill said I needed to be here." The old woman's eyes misted. "This is hard for her because of what happened to her Grampaw."

"Her grandfather?" Beth was having a little trouble deciphering the words, but she thought she had gotten the gist of it.

"We had to put him in a home up in Nashville. He had Alzheimer's."

"I'm so sorry."

"He was doing all right at first, but after a week or two, he was sleeping all the time. And then they called us and said…" Miss Violet's eyes had clouded with tears. "They said he died in his sleep."

Beth could feel her own tears pooling. "That's so sad. Losing a loved one is such a heartbreaking thing."

"But Audie says it wasn't right that he died. She thinks…she thinks they killed him. That's why she's so upset about me having to come here."

"She really thinks they killed him?"

"She took his chart after he died and showed it to a doctor friend of hers. He said he thought they might have given Lewis too much medicine."

Horror stories like that one gave nursing homes a bad name, but Beth could offer nothing to refute the Pippins' suspicions.

"Look, Miss Violet. I can't say if that other home did something wrong or not, but I can promise you this—we will take very good care of you here. We'll try our best to make you feel good and to make your stay here as pleasant and comfortable as it can be. And we will talk to you, and to Audie too if you want us to, about everything we do."

Miss Violet pursed her lips as best she could and nodded.

"Do you want me to go talk to your granddaughter now?"

"She doesn't usually listen when she's upset, but it's worth a try."

Audie kicked a rock as she exited the building, then spun around and leaned against the brick wall. She had been from one end of the nursing home to the other searching in vain for a private place to stew. What she really wanted right now was a cigarette, but she had given up smoking a year ago as a Christmas present to her Grammaw.

She had a bad feeling about her grandmother being in this place. Her only consolation was the possibility she would improve enough in the next few weeks to come back home. Dr. Hill didn't think that would happen—he had said the damage from a stroke of that magnitude was irreversible—but he didn't know Grammaw the way Audie did.

Out on the back lawn, an aide strolled beside an elderly robe-clad man as he labored with a walker. He grimaced in pain with every movement and stopped at three-step intervals to rest.

"That's Mr. Andrews." Beth Hester's gentle voice seemed to come out of nowhere. "He has advanced arthritis, but he's getting around pretty well for eighty-six, don't you think?"

Audie looked back at the struggling man. "Grammaw's only eighty-one. She shouldn't even be here."

"Strokes can be very cruel." Beth folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Audie, so that neither had to look at the other as they talked. "It's always sad to see older people fighting their bodies to get them to do what they used to do, but it's even more difficult to watch when they're as vibrant as your grandmother."

"Do you think she'll ever get to go home?"

"I'm not really qualified—"

"But you must have an opinion." Audie looked directly at Beth, not missing her reluctant expression. "I know you've seen others like her come in here."

Beth sighed, prompting Audie to brace for her answer. "I'd say it's unlikely she'll improve enough to be able to use her left side again. The best we can hope for is that she gains strength on her right side to compensate, but to be honest, it probably wouldn't be enough to make her independent again."

Audie turned away to hide the tears that burned her eyes. "But she might be able to, right?"

"Yes, she might."

She would cling to that glimmer of optimism, no matter how small.

"We're going to take care of her, Audie. You don't have to worry."

Audie was surprised to feel Beth's hand on her forearm.

"And I meant what I said about wanting you to come every day. If there's one thing that makes being here easier, it's having people who love you come visit. Do you have any idea how many people put their family members in here and forget about them?"

"I won't do that."

"I know you won't. It's obvious how much you love your grandmother."

"She's all I've got." A tear dripped from her eye and she quickly wiped it away.

"And I bet you're all she's got too."

Audie nodded, but still wouldn't make eye contact.

"But she has us now. We aren't her family, but I promise you we're going to do everything we can to keep her healthy and happy."

The hard lump in the back of her throat made Audie swallow her words for fear she would sob. The last thing she wanted to do was appear vulnerable and trusting—that attitude had led the people at the other home to take advantage of them. Finally, she mumbled, "I'm going to hold you to that."

"Okay." Beth started toward the door, but stopped short. "Do you want me to ask someone to go over the other forms with you?"

"No, I don't want to deal with that shit today. I need to go get that stuff for Grammaw."

Audie returned to the room to go over the checklist one more time, promising to return with everything her Grammaw needed. As she walked out the front door of the nursing home, she caught one last look at Beth Hester. She had seen her not long ago, but couldn't recall the circumstances.

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