Chapter 4

On Monday I took a half day off and went to a gift shop to have a commendation banner made.

Eight words: Dedicated Care — Better Than Family.

I brought it to the nursing home during afternoon visiting hours. There were several other families in the hallway.

When Greg saw the banner, his eyes crinkled completely shut with his smile.

"Oh, Lily, you really didn't have to do this! I'm just doing my job!"

I held his hand and raised my voice on purpose. "Greg, you have to accept this banner!"

"My grandfather isn't all there — he says confused things and puts you through so much, and you still take such good care of him. I honestly don't know how to thank you!"

The families nearby nodded along. Someone gave a thumbs-up.

"Greg really is great — my mom says so too."

"Absolutely. Greg's been at Sunset Haven for years. Best caregiver here."

Greg smiled from ear to ear and made a show of waving off the praise.

The director came out too, and posed with Greg and me in front of the banner for a photo to post on the facility's social media page.

I smiled for the camera, and felt something settle in my chest.

Maybe now Grandpa would finally let this go.

When I went to see him, I found him crying.

No sound — just tears running down his face. When he saw me come in, he quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

"Grandpa?"

He wouldn't look at me. He was staring at the banner.

A flicker of irritation.

"Grandpa, I just gave Greg a commendation banner to recognize how well he cares for you. Please stop saying things about him. He really is good to you."

He slowly raised his head and looked at me.

His eyes held something — a deep hurt, and beneath it, despair.

"Lily, do you think Grandpa has lost his mind?"

The words hit me like a wall.

"Grandpa hasn't lost his mind. Sometimes his memory slips. But whether something hurts — Grandpa can tell the difference."

He pulled up his pant leg and showed me the inside of his thigh.

Covered in bruises. Several had gone black, and you could see individual finger marks pressed into the skin.

"He did this yesterday. He knew you might look, so he pinched where it wouldn't show."

A roaring sound filled my head.

The next second, Greg's voice floated in from the doorway.

"Sir, telling on me to Lily again?"

He came in carrying a mug of hot water, smiling pleasantly, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Lily, don't mind him — older folks go through phases. He was laughing with me just a little while ago, and now he's upset. It happens."

I stared at the bruises. Then I looked at Greg's smiling face. I didn't know who to believe.

Grandpa pulled his pant leg back down, closed his eyes, and stopped looking at me entirely.

Greg steered me toward the door and lowered his voice. "Lily, those bruises on his legs are from when he knocked himself getting into the shower. I saw it happen myself."

"His memory's poor — he bumped himself and forgot all about it. Now he thinks someone did it to him. If you don't believe me, pull up the security footage."

Security footage. My eyes lit up.

"Can you actually do that?"

"Of course. All the common areas have cameras. The rooms don't — privacy reasons, obviously."

"But the hallways, the activity room — all covered. You can check anytime you want."

I followed Greg to the security office and pulled up yesterday's footage.

On the screen, Grandpa sat in a wheelchair. Greg pushed him down the hall toward the activity room — gentle, steady, leaning down to say something to him. Nothing but calm between them.

In the afternoon, Greg helped him into the shower. When Grandpa came out, he did walk with a slight limp — but Greg was supporting him the whole time. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I exhaled.

"Greg, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have doubted you."

Greg patted my hand, expression warm and kind.

"It's fine. I understand. Families have it hard too."

On the way home, I called my friend and told him about checking the security footage.

"See? I told you — he's confused. Don't be too hard on yourself. Nothing you could've done."

I nodded. The knot in my chest finally loosened.

Wednesday. Two in the morning. My phone went off.

The nursing home's landline.

Half-asleep, I picked up. Greg's voice came through, slightly breathless.

"Lily, I'm so sorry to call at this hour."

"Your grandfather is acting up again. He's locked himself in the bathroom and won't come out no matter how many times we call."

"We're worried something's happened. Do you have any idea how to reach him?"

I sat bolt upright.

"What happened?"

"I honestly don't know. He was fine earlier tonight. I was doing rounds and noticed he was gone. Searched everywhere, found him in the bathroom with the door locked from the inside. He won't answer. It's been almost an hour."

I threw on my clothes and ran.

By the time I got to the nursing home, it was nearly three in the morning.

A small crowd had gathered outside the bathroom — staff and security. Greg stood at the front, looking frantic.

"Lily, thank God you're here! He's still in there. Won't respond to anything. I'm worried he's hurt!"

I knocked on the door. "Grandpa! It's me! Lily! Open the door!"

Silence.

Panic gripped me. I told security to force it open.

The door gave way — and what I saw inside is something I will never forget for the rest of my life.

Grandpa was on the floor with his back against the wall. His hands were bound to the radiator pipe with his own pajama pants. There was a wad of cloth shoved into his mouth.

When he saw me, tears poured down his face. He made muffled, desperate sounds, but he couldn't speak.

I flew at him, tore his hands free, yanked the cloth from his mouth.

"Grandpa! Grandpa! Who did this? Who did this to you?"

Grandpa shook violently and collapsed sobbing into my arms.