The air was crisp that morning when Bud awoke and dressed himself in his everyday wear - a nice light blue polo, pressed khakis, and loafers. But since the atmosphere was cooling down being that it was early October, he pulled on a sweater that his wife had knit for him years ago too. After brushing what sparse gray hair he had, and putting on his glasses and taking his pills, he picked up his worn leather notebook and made his way down the hall of the rest home. Many of the other patients were already awake and moving - some on their own, most in wheelchairs.
Bud smiled and greeted the familiar faces of his friends. He clapped a man about his age on the back as he passed, and said, "How're you today, Ron?"
Ron, surprised, halted his conversation with a nurse, and answered, "As good as I'll ever be, Bud." The older man smiled from ear to ear, mouth full of dentures, and carried on his previous conversation. Bud walked on.
He soon came to the exit doors and pushed through them. The cool air hit him like a ton of bricks; he stopped to take a deep breath in. Autumn had always been his favorite time of year. This was the time when the geese were coming in to sit on the lake before continuing their migration South for the winter - and this was the time, years before, when he'd regained something he'd thought he'd lost.
He took his time walking across the dewy grass to the wooden bench as he had every day for years. Settling himself on the bench, he sighed as his joints groaned and his hips ached. He just wasn't as young and fit as he used to be - but he still tried to live life to the fullest.
No one else was outside at the moment, so Bud simply sat there and talked with God. He prayed for all the people at the rest home, he prayed for his loved ones, and he prayed for strength. And by the time he was done praying, he felt the familiar hand of Betty Lou, the nurse of a good friend of his, on his shoulder.
"She's up and dressed if you want to come see her," Betty Lou said softly, not wanting to disturb the older man's thoughts. Betty Lou was a pretty, dark-skinned lady with short curly hair and kind brown eyes. Her scrubs had cats and dogs on them.
Bud nodded and began to rise. Betty Lou wrapped her hands around his right arm and helped him to his feet gently, and then the two started off back towards the grand, beautiful white house on the lake shore. Once back inside, Bud followed the nurse even though he knew the way by heart. It was simply part of his daily ritual; a tradition that he didn't want to break.
Betty Lou knocked on the door when she came to it and announced herself. "Ariel, dear, it's Betty Lou. May I come in? I've brought a surprise with me."
The reply came a little uneasily, as usual: "Yes, come on in, Betty Lou."
Betty Lou turned to Bud before they entered the room and whispered, "She's slightly worse today, hon. I've already had to tell her who I was twice and remind her to take her pills three times."
He nodded and forced a smile, though, on the inside, his heart almost stopped. She wasn't getting better, and he knew it. The doctors hadn't told him - but he knew. In his mind, he prayed silently for strength once more before he followed the nurse into Ariel's room. Sunlight spilled through the large bay window onto the shiny wooden floors. In the corner of the room, an woman in her mid-seventies sat at an easel, painting the scene outside the window in front of her. Her strokes were slow and certain, and Bud could see the lake coming to life under her hands. She painted the same thing every day.
"Ariel, sweetie?" Betty Lou touched her shoulder. The older woman turned. "You can finish painting later, okay? This nice man is here to read to you."
"Read to me?" Ariel inquired.
"Yes, ma'am. He goes around reading to all the patients."
"Oh, okay." The nurse helped Ariel rise to her feet once she gave consent, and then helped her over to the other side of the room, to a small set of table and chairs. Bud had already settled himself in his usual seat, but he rose when Ariel started to come his way. Like the gentleman he always was, he pulled out the opposite chair for her.
"Why, thank you," she said, smiling softly. She sat; Bud regained his seat, set down his notebook, and then went along with the routine.
"My name's Bud. I've been here for almost a year. I'm not exactly a patient, but they let me stay." He chuckled to himself.
Ariel continued to smile. "I'm Ariel," was all she said. And so Bud when on and said:
"The story I have for you today is something I haven't read to many people around here. It's a special one, and I don't like to read it too much or it wouldn't be special anymore, ya know?"
She nodded. "I understand."
Bud slid the notebook over to himself, opened it the first, worn page, and cleared his throat. "Let's get started then." Clearing his throat once more, he felt the flashbacks at the back of his mind as he began to read the first sentence: "It was the summer of 1940. . . " When he glanced up, Ariel was already absorbed in the story - as always. Looking into her eyes made the flashbacks harder to resist. And so they consumed him.