Love in the Twilight

I was driving to work when the first chords came drifting out of the car radio like a lullaby. And then Cass Elliot's haunting voice followed, singing the words I knew so well.

Stars shining bright above you

Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you

Birds singing in the sycamore tree

Dream a little dream of me

My wife never knew why the song made me cry every time I heard it, but my daughter did. And, as I listened to the beautiful melody, I thought of those long gone, like Walter, Mabel and, of course, Caroline.

Even though it was over twelve years ago, I still remember exactly where I was the first time I heard her voice. I was a twenty-year-old orderly at the Shadywood Care Home and I was leaning against the nursing station as I watched Walter try to make his daily escape.

Sara leaned over the nursing station counter and looked toward the front entrance. "I think you better grab Mr. Williams, Jason, he's almost there."

Walter Williams, who was in his late eighties, clutched the handrail to support himself as he shuffled slowly toward the front door of the care home. It usually took him the better part of half an hour to make his way from the far end of the hall to the main entrance, and now he was less than ten feet from freedom.

"Time to take him back to the starting line," I said, and headed down the hallway with his wheelchair.

As Walter heard me coming, he looked back over his shoulder and waved me away with his free hand. "No...leave me alone," he grumbled. "You can't keep me trapped in here!"

"Come on, Mr. Williams," I said, as I gently removed his hand from the handrail. "Time to get back in your wheelchair."

Walter had always been a big man. He had worked for the railway for decades and, by the time he'd retired twenty years earlier, was one of the most respected men in the company. But most of the people Walter had worked with were long gone, and he was a shadow of the man he'd once been. In his youth, he would have thrown me across the hall if I'd touched him. Now, he didn't even have the strength to push my arm away.

He pleaded with me and cursed at me as I gently but forcibly put him in his wheelchair and took him back to the end of the hall. After I'd locked the wheels and walked away, he lifted himself unsteadily to his feet, grabbed the handrail, and began his long half hour journey anew.

"I feel so sad for Walter," said Sara. "No one ever comes to visit him. Every day, he tries to leave, only to have us bring him back again."

"I don't blame him," I said. "I wish I could escape this place too."

"Shadywood isn't that bad. You haven't worked anywhere else, but some of the homes I've worked at...you wouldn't believe the smell. I like how it's clean here, and the residents are treated well."

"Maybe, but the pay sucks. I'm not even sure if its minimum wage. And Janet makes me work my ass off."

"I don't know about that," Sara teased, as she played with her necklace. "It still looks pretty good to me. But I know how you feel; I had to take a second job just to make ends meet. I'm working downtown Saturday night...maybe after I get off we can get together and do something?"

Before I could answer, she hurriedly continued. "It won't be a date or anything. I know every time I ask, you tell me you don't date people you work with. But I thought maybe we could go out sometime, you know, as friends?"

I was racking my brain for an excuse to say no, when Angie wandered up to the nursing station.

Angie, the head nurse, was a middle-aged Filipino woman with a heart of gold -- except for when it came to teasing Sara. "What are you two lovebirds whispering about?"

Sara turned red with embarrassment. "Angie! Jason and I aren't -- "

"I know, I am just kidding you Sara!" she said. "I need help moving the residents to bingo. I thought Michael was in today?"

"Janet had to lay him off," said Sara.

"Not another one," said Angie. "We are so short staffed as it is. If Janet wants to save money so badly, why doesn't she turn down this heat? It makes my poor skin so dry."

Angie took a jar of Vaseline out of her pocket and rubbed some on her cracked lips. "Bring your boyfriend, he can help us with the residents."

Sara blushed as I smiled and followed her to the elevator. She'd been working at Shadywood as a nursing aide for six months, and had a hopeless crush on me. Though cute and curvy with strawberry blonde hair, she was a year younger than me and still had some growing up to do. And she was right; I'd learned the hard way to never date anyone you worked with.

As we reached the elevator, more than a dozen residents milled aimlessly around it, some no longer remembering why they'd come downstairs in the first place.

I took one resident by his arm while Sara pushed another's wheelchair and we went to the activity room. As we neared it, we could hear someone singing in an unbelievably beautiful voice.

I turned to Sara, who was already watching me. "I thought it was bingo today? Did Janet restart the concert program?"

"No, as far as I know it's still cancelled."

We entered the room and saw her, moving through the residents as she sang, capturing them in her spell. She sang so beautifully, so confidently, that I thought she was a professional that had been hired to sing at the home. But she was dressed in a housecoat like every other resident.

I'd never seen them so quiet, they were completely fascinated as she moved amongst them singing, and touching each and every one of them with her voice. Some of the residents closed their eyes and swayed to the sound, lost in the memories the song rekindled from the embers of the past. I could see the joy on her face as she sang, and as she looked across the room and saw that I was also caught in her spell she smiled radiantly at me.

"Who is that?" I asked Sara.

"That's Mrs. Andrews, she's a new resident here."

"A resident? But she's too young. She's like...twenty years younger than anyone else."

"I know -- I think she's only sixty."

I went to get more of the residents from the elevator, but as I returned the singing stopped and there was a smattering of applause.

I looked through the door and saw Janet talking to Mrs. Andrews.

Janet was the administrator at Shadywood and, ironically, was probably the same age as Mrs. Andrews. She was a stickler for schedules and always hurried around the home with one eye on her watch. The recent budget cuts had put a lot of pressure on her, and she was struggling to maintain a semblance of order at the home.

Janet sat Mrs. Andrews down, gave her a bingo card, and signaled to the caller to start the game. Mrs. Andrews smiled back at me, shrugged her shoulders, and waited for the first number.

I didn't see her again until later that night, as I was taking the residents back upstairs after dinner. Mabel was missing, and Angie asked if I could help find her.

Mabel Gardner was a lovely woman, eighty-five years young, who always had a smile on her face. She wandered the halls of Shadywood endlessly, as she thought she was an employee there, not a resident. And if you asked her how she'd got to work that day she could tell you the bus number, which seat she'd sat in and, sometimes, the bus driver's name. I had no way of knowing if her information was accurate, as she was remembering a bus trip she'd taken sixty years earlier.

Mabel also had an amazing memory for minute details from when she was a child, including the name of the horse that she'd loved to ride around the farm she'd grown up on. But she couldn't remember the names of her family, or that they'd even existed. First she'd forgotten her grandchildren, and then her children, and now she no longer remembered her husband. Her memory had been torn away like pages from the back of a book, with only the beginning left.

She spent her days wandering aimlessly from room to room; unsure why she was here, but knowing this wasn't her home.

I went down the hallway looking into each door as residents, alone in their rooms, looked expectantly at me.

Finally, I looked into a room and spotted Mabel, picking up items on a dresser and looking at each one. I walked in and she was looking at a framed photo of a young woman in a yellow bikini.

She showed me the photo. "Is this me?"

"No, Mabel," I said, as I put the photo back on the dresser. "This isn't your room."

To my left, Mrs. Andrews was sitting on her bed. "Sorry about Mabel," I said, "she has dementia."

"I know," Mrs. Andrews said. "That's why I'm watching her. I want to know what it's like..."

Mabel had picked up another photo and I took it away from her and put it back on the dresser. "She'll take your stuff to her room and then tomorrow, when she wakes up, she'll wonder who left it there and throw it in the garbage."

Angie came into the room and took her arm. "Come on Mabel, I will take you back to your own room," she said, and led the frail old lady down the hallway.

"Sorry again, Mrs. Andrews," I said.

"Please, call me Caroline."

"Okay, my name's Jason. I heard you singing downstairs, you were amazing."

She smiled at me and brushed a lock of her short, silvery-blonde hair behind her ear. "Thank you, Jason."

"Were you, like, a professional singer or something?"

"No, I've just always loved to sing. And now, when I seem to be...forgetting so many things. It's comforting to know I can still remember the words to my favorite songs."

"You were great," I said. "The residents really enjoyed it."

"Well, I don't think the woman who asked me to stop singing liked it very much."

"That was our administrator, Janet...she's kind of OCD about her schedules. If she's got bingo planned to start at two, it better start at two."

Caroline looked around her tiny room, as if realizing for the first time how small it was. "Oh...is that all they do here, bingo?"

"We used to have people come in and do music, singing, line dancing, crafts...that sort of stuff. But Janet stopped it all. I think there's been some budget cuts, and I guess she felt we couldn't afford it."

"So...when there's no bingo, what do they do for fun?"

I shrugged. "Maybe watch an old movie?"

Caroline sighed and smiled at me. "Thanks for your help with Mabel, I'd better get some rest. I hope we can talk again some time, Jason."

"I'd love to."

* * *

About a week later, I was doing my rounds on the second floor when Pearl called me into her room.

Pearl, who was a charming seventy-eight-year-old, had loved to dance. She'd even tried to teach me to foxtrot once. But she'd been ill for some time and was completely bedridden now. After she told me her TV remote was missing, I went to Mabel's room to look for it.

Mabel was sleeping peacefully in her bed and the controller was in her wastebasket beneath a rumpled housecoat. After giving Pearl her channel changer back, I checked the housecoat and saw the name Caroline Andrews sewn into the collar.

Hoping she wasn't sleeping, I knocked lightly on her door.

When she opened it, I saw that Caroline was only wearing a thin cotton nightgown. Her short, silvery-blonde hair was messy, as if she'd been sleeping, and she quickly ran her fingers through it when she saw me standing in her doorway.

"Sorry if I woke you, but I found your housecoat in Mabel's room."

"Thank you, Jason, but I wasn't sleeping, I was just lying in the dark. Can you come in and talk for a minute or two?"

I looked down the hall to make sure Janet wasn't around. "Sure, I can talk for a minute."

I looked around her tiny room and realized there wasn't even enough room for a chair; the only place to sit was on the bed. As I watched her hang her housecoat on the bathroom door, I found it hard to comprehend how Caroline could be a resident at Shadywood. She was so much younger than the rest of them.

She walked over and sat down beside me on the bed, and I quickly stood up.

Caroline laughed. "Jason, I'm not going to attack you."

"No," I stammered, "it's just...it's just that...is this your family?"

I picked up a framed photo from the dresser and she came over and stood beside me. Leaning close, she pointed out the members of her family. "That's my late husband, Bill...my son, Will...my daughter, Julie...my grandson, Michael..."

She stopped, her finger resting on a young girl, no older than three, in the photo. I looked at Caroline and realized she was crying.

"This girl," she said, "I...I can't remember her name...but I think she's my granddaughter."

I placed the photo back on the dresser as she dried her eyes with a tissue and sat on the bed. "If I can't remember their names; how long until I don't even remember them? I'm sorry for crying...but that's the reason I admitted myself here."

I sat beside her on the bed and handed her another tissue. "You admitted yourself here? It wasn't your family that put you in here?"

"No, I admitted myself...I've got Alzheimer's disease, Jason, and its been coming on fast...too fast. I know it's only going to get worse, and I don't want to be a burden on my kids."

"But...you're too young to have Alzheimer's. Mabel has it, and she's twenty years older than you."

"You're sweet," she said, and squeezed my leg. "I have what they call early-onset Alzheimer's, and I'm not that young, I'm sixty. And you're how old, Jason? Nineteen?"

She started to stroke my leg and I jumped up. "Tw -- twenty," I stammered. "I, uh, I better get back to work now."

Caroline stood up and grabbed my hand. "One second, Jason, I wanted to know if you could do me a favor."

I was surprised at how warm her hands were, as the other residents' hands were always so cold. "What kind of favor?"

"I see all those poor people downstairs every day, sitting there looking so sad, so lonely. Their families never come to visit them.

"I was wondering if you could ask Janet if I could sing for them. It will only be a few songs, and I won't even charge," she said, and smiled warmly at me.

I told her I would, and I was just closing Caroline's door when Janet walked out of Pearl's room.

She eyed me suspiciously. "Why were you in that resident's room?"

"Oh, I was just talking to Caroline -- I mean -- Mrs. Andrews, she wanted to know if she could sing for the residents tomorrow."

"I don't know Jason...with all of these budget cuts -- "

"But she'll sing for free," I said, interrupting her.

"Let me finish. What I was going to say...was that with all of these budget cuts, we don't have the staff to properly supervise that kind of activity."

"Sara and I can do it. We're up front anyways, so it'll be no problem."

"I don't know...I want this to be a home for everyone here, and I wish they could get up when they want to, eat when they want to. But we just don't have the resources -- that's why I have to make sure everyone sticks to my schedules. I know people aren't happy that I cancelled most of the activities, but the residents' care has to be my priority."

"Can't you just let her sing once, and see how it goes?"

Janet nodded reluctantly. "Okay, but don't make me regret this."

* * *

The next afternoon, Sara and I were watching Walter attempt his daily escape when Caroline began to sing.

Sara smiled at me. "Do you want to dance?"

"Yes," I said, and waltzed past her and grabbed Mabel and danced her toward the activity room.

Sara took the arm of another resident, and all of the other lonely souls, who spent their days downstairs waiting in vain for long-gone friends, shuffled after them toward the sweet sound.

When she saw me leading Mabel through the doorway, Caroline's eyes lit up and she blew me a kiss to thank me for getting her permission to sing. But the joy in the residents' eyes as her voice took them back in time was the only thanks I needed.

They all applauded politely when Caroline finished her first song, and nodded in agreement as they told each other what a wonderful voice she had.

"This next song," said Caroline, "is for Jason."

I felt embarrassed as nearly every head in the room turned to look or smile at me, I had thought most of them didn't even know my name. I looked over at Sara and she laughed when she saw how red my face was.

Caroline sang Dream a Little Dream of Me, and she was just starting the second verse when we heard a cry from the hallway.

Sara and I raced out of the room -- we'd forgotten about Walter! He'd reached the front entrance and Janet was running out of her office toward him. He took his hand off the handrail to reach for the doors and, as they automatically slid open, he tumbled forward and hit the floor hard.

Janet was trying to help him as he moaned at her to leave him alone.

As I kneeled beside Walter and checked to see if he was injured, Janet tore into me.

"You see? You see what happens when we go off schedule? I told you we didn't have the staff to properly supervise, and now Mr. Williams is hurt!"

"He's fine," I said, and carefully lifted him off the floor and into the wheelchair Sara had run over with.

Janet was livid. "What if he'd got out the door, Jason? What if he'd walked onto the street outside? I'm sorry, but -- until we get more staff -- there will be no more concerts."

As I turned to take Walter, who was sore but unhurt, back to his room, I saw a crowd of residents watching from the doorway of the activity room.

Caroline was at the front of the crowd and, as our eyes met, she mouthed the words 'I'm sorry' to me.

After dinner, as Angie and I were making sure all of the residents were back in their rooms, I knocked on Caroline's door. I wanted to apologize for ruining the show, but no one answered. I opened the door and called, "hello?" as I walked into the room. The bedside lamp was on, but the bed was empty.

Her dresser was covered in framed photos and I noticed the one that Mabel had been looking at the other day. In the photo, a teenaged Caroline flashed a perfect smile at the camera as she sat on the edge of an old wooden speedboat, wearing only a tiny yellow bikini.

Caroline was still a beautiful woman, but in her youth she'd been stunning. Her skin was golden and tanned and her tiny top showed off her full, round breasts. As she leaned forward, I could just see the edge of a pale triangle that marked where the sun hadn't touched her delicate flesh. Her toned legs dangled off the front of the boat so that her toes just touched the water. And her long, straight, sun-kissed blonde hair beautifully framed her angelic face.

I awoke from my daydream when I heard a footstep to my right. Caroline was standing in her nighty at the dark doorway to her bathroom.

She blinked at me as if she'd just woken up.

"I knocked but no one answered," I said. "Were you in the bathroom...in the dark?"

"I'm...I'm not sure where I was." She shook her head to clear away the cobwebs as she walked over to see what I was looking at.

When she saw the photo, she smiled at me. "You're not the first boy to be captivated by that bikini."

She took the photo and stared wistfully at it. "Can you stay a bit, Jason? I'd like some company."

I checked my watch. "Umm...I guess I could stay for five minutes or so."

"That would be wonderful." She patted the bed beside her, and asked me to sit.

Handing me the photo, she leaned against my shoulder. "That was me when I was eighteen. It was the summer of 1961 and we were up at my uncle's cabin -- that speedboat was his pride and joy.

"The lake the cabin was on was so clear and so beautiful, and we'd go up there every year to water-ski and swim. I remember my mother was so proud of how I looked in my new bikini; she insisted on taking that picture.

"Anyways, I was an excellent swimmer and I knew there was a campground at the far end of the lake. Every summer I'd always try to swim all the way to the end, but I never succeeded until that year, and I was ecstatic when I finally made it. I was lying exhausted on the beach, trying to catch my breath, when a shadow fell across me. I covered my eyes to block the sunlight, and looked up and saw the cutest boy I'd ever seen."