The council elders had finally been pushed too far. The stress of keeping the tribe's most precious secret and cleaning up after a bunch of shape-shifting teenagers made being on the council much more demanding than any of them had anticipated. Of those in the know, however, Paul Lahote had given the elders the most amount of grief. So when his latest bout of anger driven insanity put two boys in the hospital and threatened to expose the wolf pack, the council snapped.
"Paul, you must learn that your anger has to be controlled!" Billy Black, chief of the Quileute tribe, was in fine form as the delinquent stood before him. "However, we have let you get away with your deplorable actions for too long, always excusing your behavior; we are sentencing you to 40 community service hours to be carried out at the retirement home here on the Reservation." Seeing the young man about to protest, he added: "Sam already knows about this and has agreed to minimize your patrolling schedule to evenings only in order to accommodate this punishment." With that, the council left the building, leaving his fellow wolves to deal with the following temper tantrum of the most volatile wolf.
This was how Paul found himself in the office of the Activities Director about nine in the morning the following Monday. "Mr. Lahote, I presume?" The lady before him was middle aged with graying black hair and deep blue eyes. She was a good foot shorter but her very presence spoke of authority. "My name is Sandra Brown. I am the Activities Director here at Live Oak Residency and I will be overseeing your community service. Now the people here are to be treated with respect at all times. You are not to yell, scream, hit or generally be nasty to anyone within this building. If you are, then you will be kicked out and your hours will not be signed off for the day. Is this clear?"
"Yes, ma'am." Paul said through gritted teeth. The message was loud and clear: Be nice or you will have to work in this hell-hole that much longer.
"Now, the first thing I am going to have you do is to help serve meals. We serve lunch here in two shifts: From 11 to 12 and 12 to 1. You will also help clean up after, like a waiter at a diner. We will go from there and see if you stay longer." With that being said, Mrs. Brown led him to the kitchens where he was given a net cap to cover his hair and was set to carving up a turkey.
Curiously enough, Paul's temper started to calm down as he began to bring out the meals to each resident. There was one lady in the corner he was told explicitly to skip as she had special dietary needs. It turned out that the lady, Mrs. Ellsa Carmichael, was 91 years old. She was a little old lady with snow white hair and a multitude of deep-set wrinkles, distracted only by the small wire-framed glasses perched on her nose.
"Lahote, would you please take this plate to Mrs. Carmichael?" David Ataera, the head cook, asked as the last plate went out. Nodding, Paul took the offered tray and made his way to where the lady sat in her customary chair in the far corner of the room.
As he sat the tray down in front of her, he hesitated for a moment. "Thank you, young man." She said looking up at him.
"Your welcome." He replied as their eyes met. In them he saw wisdom, compassion and curiosity. He could spend all day looking into her eyes. Crap!