Chapter 83 One Year Later
CHAPTER EIGHTY THREE
Valenticia’s POV
I parked outside the gates to Willow Creek Elderly Home, and the sun was low in the sky, and its rays made long shadows over the iron fence. I lowered my window and gave the guard my ID. He scanned it with a small machine, his expression remaining normal as he nodded and touched a button. A deep, rumbling hum of the gates sounded as they slid open.
My mind wandered back over the past year as I drove through. It had been a year since everything had broken down. Galden had fallen, and Gregor’s empire stood in ruins. Drones stopped whirring lowly over Seryne, and streets were hushed. There were no more crates filled with cotton at the docks, and none of the shouting through the night.
I had meant to forget, or at least I thought so. My days were now spent at the community center, where I taught kids how to code basic programs. They laughed when the colors suddenly appeared on their screens, and it seemed good and normal. But at night. I would sometimes wake up with my heart pounding, having dreamt of red lights bearing down on me and the scowling face of Gregor.
We rounded the bend of the parking lot, and I pulled into a space near the entrance and took the bouquet of fresh flowers from my passenger seat. Daisies and lilies, Rosanna's favorites. The smell of them filled the car, sweet and clean. I got out, locked the door, and went up the path. The air was crisp because fall was on its way.
I did a lot of thinking when I walked. I now live in a small apartment with two bedrooms, one for me, the other empty, its door standing open. I learned to cook meals for one, read books at night and made friends in the centre. But the holes remained, where fear used to be and people I loved.
The front doors parted, and a nurse smiled at me. "Valenticia, good to see you. Your grandmother is in the sunroom today.”
I nodded, grateful but steady-voiced, and said, “Thanks.” I followed the hallway past rooms with open doors, where old people chatted or watched television. Some napped in chairs. It smelled of coffee and clean sheets.
Rosanna was in her usual armchair by the window, and sunshine shone on her. She appeared thinner than the last time we met, and her cheeks fell, but her eyes remained as piercing as always. They lit up when she saw me.
“Val,” she said, offering her hand. I accepted it and felt its warm, dry grasp.
“Nana!” I answered, leaning in to hug her softly.
I set the flowers on the table next to her and pulled up a stool, sitting close. "How are you feeling?"
She squeezed my hand and said, “Better now that you’re here. The days drag without visitors."
For a bit, we chatted about the weather, a bird that had perched outside the window. She enjoyed seeing it hop along the ledge and peck at seeds. I explained to the kids in the center, especially one eight-year-old boy named Timmy. He created a game where little characters jumped over rivers, and people cheered when he shared it.
Rosanna chuckled softly, "Oh, you. Always making things light up."
The noon hour arrived, and a tray was brought to her with soup and the sandwich cut into small pieces. I gave it to her in portions and blew on it so it would cool down. She chewed slowly, carefully, because her hands shook a bit these days from arthritis, the doctor said. I wiped her chin, but she brushed me away. "I'm not a baby."
After the meal, we sat in silence as the sun moved around and warmth left the chamber. I looked at her, seeing the wrinkles around her eyes and grayer hair. But that strength never left. She’d gotten me through the worst, hiding us in safehouses and working to decipher codes late night after late night. Now she wanted them again, or at least I assumed that she did.
“Nana,” I said, my voice low, “I’ve been thinking. Come live with me. There is space in my place and I can look after you. I’d cook your dinners and we could sit on the porch watching the sunset together.’
Then, she tilted her head and looked at me with a little smile playing on her lips. "You're sweet, Val. Always have been."
I pushed back and said, "No, I mean it. They do pay the center well, so I can get a bigger bed and make a space just for you.”
Her eyes relaxed, but she shook her head. "No, child. I belong here."
"Why?" I pushed, not angry so much as just sad. “Here is all good, but this is not home like ours was.”
She put her hand on my knee and said, “This place contains my final season. I have friends and routines here. The nurses know my stories. I take morning strolls in the garden and read in the afternoons. It's my choice."
I frowned and responded, “But I'm concerned. What if you trip, or require something fast?”
“You never grow out of independence,” she said, firmly and kindly. “Even old bones must have room to stand. You’ve already given me so much. Let me have this."
I sighed and nodded, “All right. But just promise you will call if you change your mind.”
"Promise," she winked.
We moved on to another talk, about her most recent book, a mystery about lost treasures. She predicted the ending and added, “The butler always did it.” I laughed and told her about a new cafe in town where the pastries are as large as plates. She made me swear to bring one next time.
The hours passed while the light grew golden in the afternoon. Then a shadow fell across her face, and she leaned over with her voice quieting. "Val, be careful."
I blinked at her and said, “About what?
"Gregor." The name hung there, heavy.
My stomach turned because I hadn’t heard it in months. I had forced it deep and buried it under those crates' ashes. "What do you mean?"
She checked out the hall from where the door was, then said, "Whispers from old contacts. He bought his way out with lawyers and bribes. No real punishment. Now, he’s living his life as the rich guy with the suits and meetings.
My hands tightened around my lap, and rage boiled in my chest. "How? After everything? The serums, the drones, the lives he stole.”
She clutched my hand firmly. "I know. It's wrong. But that's him. Slippery and dangerous still."
I drew away a small distance and said, “I haven’t thought about him in years. I tried to forget."
"Good," she nodded. “Leave it that way, but stay mindful about it. He holds grudges. We destroyed his world, and he will not forget.”
She must have been thinking about it too, and the room was getting smaller and the air thicker as memories came rushing. How his voice echoed on a screen with words drilled in harshly. I suddenly saw the docks and flames high, feeling my own voice cutting through the smoke: "Traitor exposed." Crowds cheered. But the silence now was freedom.
"Nana, I..." My voice cracked. "What if he comes?"
“We got through it once,” she told me, keeping our eyes locked. “Do not allow him to steal your peace. You've built something now. Hold it close."
I swallowed heavily and uttered, "Yeah, I will. For you. For Mom."
Her eyes stiff, for just a second, then she smiled. "That's my girl."
Minutes passed and we sat that way, holding hands. The nurse came, checked Rosanna’s tray, emptied it and waved goodbye. I lifted Nana and led her to the side table of the armchair, straightening her blanket and tucking it around her legs.
"Kiss for the road?" she asked.
Stooping, I kissed her on the forehead. "Love you."
"Love you more."
I stood in the open doorway watching her ease back before opening her book, pages flipping slowly. Then I stepped back, and the hallway lights buzzed softly as my footsteps stomped.
Outside, the night air struck me as fresh and cool, with leaves crunched beneath my shoes. The sun hung lower, painting streaks of pink and orange across the sky. I made it to my car, keys jangling inside my pocket, unlocked the door and got in.
The motor kicked on perfectly, and I reversed out, giving the building one more look. Windows were warm with light. Rosanna’s room was lit up.
The gates shut behind me. I proceeded toward the road. I switched on the radio, and music flowed out, a song about new beginnings. I allowed it to fill the car, and I went home.