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Rachel, Melissa’s thirty-something daughter, approached.
    “Mother, it’s time for Frederick’s therapy so he can go home,” she said softly.
    I looked at her and saw the concern shining in her dark blue eyes. A gentle soul, Emma hated any kind of confrontation. I smiled widely to put her mind at ease and strode toward Frederick’s bed.
    Gabby, his private nurse, struggled to force the moveable hospital bed back to its original flat position. I helped her with the lever and soon Fred lay supine. Gabby checked his maze of tubing to make sure no tubes had kinked. I propped a hip up on the bed next to the little guy.
    “Hey, handsome, what’s up with you today? You doing all right?” I leaned close so his eyes could focus. He had nystagmus, so his eyes fluttered constantly. It was a little disconcerting, but I was used to it. I chucked him under the chin. His loopy grin made me laugh. “Good. Glad to hear that. Therapy time. You ready?”
    I adjusted his bib and helped Gabby straighten his legs. I moved back to the head of the bed and spoke to him. “I gotta run back to help Mama now, but you just holler out if any of these women give you a hard time, you hear? I got Maria watching your back and she’ll tell me if they don’t treat you right.”
    Frederick squirmed with pleasure and emitted chuckling sounds. Maria was one of his favorite friends at SPICEY. I gently pulled his gnarled hands apart and pressed his stiff arms toward the bed, patting his hands to reassure him.
    Gabby worked on his legs. I watched her as I placed Fred’s wheelchair close to the bed and locked the wheels, noting anew how capable and powerful her movements were. She was amazing. Frederick’s cerebral palsy had pulled his limbs and torso into tight bows, and he needed therapy twice daily to prevent the contractures from becoming worse.
    It wasn’t an easy job. Gabby might have weighed a hundred pounds sopping wet so it was hard going. Thankfully, though Freddy was fifteen, he was small for his age. I admired her determined Latin features and glossy black hair as she used her slight body weight to lengthen, and then flex Fred’s limbs. Little beads of sweat popped out on her forehead. I mentally chided myself for my unseemly interest. Gabby had a handsome husband and two young boys at home.
    I turned away and waved farewell to the group. At the door, I paused and looked back.
    Almost the entire group was in attendance today. I noted that twelve-year-old Delicia Gonzales seemed down, and I regretted I couldn’t take the time to go talk to her. Someone, probably Emma Rachel, had situated her pillows properly so she sat upright in her wheelchair, but she didn’t seem interested in the school project or the cleanup. Her small hands rested in her lap and her gaze was vacant.
    Tommy and Sally, both Down Syndrome children, more than made up for Delicia’s disinterest by chasing one another around the table. Tommy threatened Sally with a wet lump of clay. I sighed, knowing the situation would end badly.
    I glanced at my watch. Father Sephria would arrive within the hour to help Melissa and Emma Rachel load the children into the van. I was glad to see that Connie and Emilio, my more mobile teenagers, were behaving themselves now and helping with cleanup. Sadness filled me when I turned to leave. Where would they all go when the town council evicted us?

Grey
     
    I loved my new home and had enjoyed a peaceful, restful night lulled by the sound of the waves slapping the shore, since the sole window in the bedroom overlooked the bay.
    My small, cozy room with its newly carpeted floor and fresh paint on the walls was down a short hall from the living room.The apartment bathroom with a huge walk-in shower—no doubt configured for Mr. Torres’ special needs—was just off the bedroom. Space was tight. My queen-sized bed barely fit, but overall the room was womblike and comforting.
    I wasn’t quite sure where my clothing would go as there was no