The Winding Road Home by Sally John Page A

wore.
    He stepped now unsteadily but on his own to the chair held by the chauffeur. Graham waited near enough to grasp an arm if needed but didn’t hover. His stance displayed a respect for what most men at that point desired: to remain unassisted for as long as possible.
    The driver relinquished the chair to Graham, who wheeled it around and pushed it toward the door Adele now opened. As they neared, the old man looked up at her, his eyeglasses a dark tint in the bright sunlight. He raised a hand and fumbled about his shoulder, as if searching for something. Graham reached out and clutched the pale, slender fingers, continuing to push and steer with one hand.
    â€œHello!” She pulled the door open for them. “Welcome to Fox Meadow. Go right on inside.”
    Graham nodded grimly to her as he wheeled Mr. Jennings through the first set of doors.
    Adele stepped around them and pushed the large blue handicapped button that automatically opened the next set. Inside she led them off to the left where there was a grouping of vacant armchairs, and she sat down in one beside the wheelchair. Graham unbuttoned the elderly man’s coat and slipped it from his arms. He appeared shriveled beneath a white shirt and bright red cardigan.
    She touched the old man’s hand. “How do you do, Mr. Jennings.”
    He politely and slowly removed his hat. “You must be Adele!” His voice was low, raspy.
    Taken aback that he would know her name, she replied, “Why, yes, I am.”
    â€œGraham has told me so much about you.” Behind the thick bifocals now lightening a shade as they adjusted to the indoors, his eyes seemed to twinkle in the gaunt face.
    â€œHe has?” Surprise raised her voice, and then she realized he must be teasing her. She had spent a mere 45 minutes with Graham Logan. But before she could recover, he went on.
    â€œHe described you to a T and said you’re the incredibly beautiful, efficient director of this place. Sold him on the spot.”
    â€œRand!” Graham’s voice jumped an octave.
    â€œOh, call me Pops. I always wanted to be called Pops. Never too late to start, is it?”
    The man was a charmer. The nurses were going to enjoy him. “No, Mr. Jennings, it’s never too late to start anything.”
    â€œUntil you’re dead and gone. Like I will be soon.” Matter of fact, with a hint of a chuckle and no self-pity. “Where’s my room?”
    â€œLet’s go right now.”
    She walked beside Graham, slowing her efficient walk to match the more sedate movement the wheelchair required. His sunglasses were atop his hair. That luscious pewterstreaked hair.
    â€œSo, Graham,” she murmured, giving him a sly smile, “thanks for the compliment.”
    He looked decidedly uncomfortable. “You’re wel— The fact is, I didn’t exactly say—”
    She laughed. “I know you didn’t. He’s charming! Shall I warn the nurses?”
    Mr. Jennings turned his bald head slightly and glanced over his shoulder. “You’re talking about me behind my back. Literally behind my back.” His tone was amused.
    â€œWe are!” Adele took a quick double step to the front of his chair. “But it’s all good stuff, Mr. Jennings. Here we go. Right in here.” She led the way into a single room. “You’ve got a nice southeast view. Snow-covered fields and sunshine most of the day. Oh, dear. The bed’s not ready. I’ll grab some linens and take care of that. I imagine you’re rather tired after your trip. ”
    â€œI could use a nap. You’d think the good Lord would take away the need for sleep at this stage of things. Kind of hate snoring away what little time I have left. Graham, park me by the window.”
    â€œThere you go, Pops. I’ll get your things out of the car.” Without a backward glance, he strode from the room.
    â€œMr. Jennings, I’ll get