“What goes around comes around,” old Eleanor kept repeating. However, Nurse Claire worried about the elderly lady’s future. After giving her son access to all of her savings, Eleanor had almost been kicked out onto the streets. Yet, one delivery from her past changed everything.
The room carried the quiet charm of years gone by. The faint lavender scent mixed with the polish of old wood evoking a sense of warmth and calm.
Sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, creating delicate patterns on the faded wallpaper.
In her favorite armchair, Eleanor sat with a soft, faraway look in her eyes.
Her delicate hands rested on a well-worn blanket, the fabric as familiar as the memories she held close.
The steady ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to echo her thoughts, drifting between what was and what is.
Eleanor’s eyes were drawn to the clock, a wedding present from many years ago, now a symbol of a life she once cherished.
A soft knock at the door brought her back to reality. Nurse Claire peeked in, her warm smile brightening the quiet room.
“Ma’am, you have a visitor,” she said in her usual gentle voice.
Eleanor straightened up as best as she could, her back feeling a bit stiff, and looked toward the door with interest.
“A visitor? Please let them in, dear,” she said, her voice hinting at excitement.
Just then, the sound of polished shoes clicking on the wooden floor signaled the entrance of her son, Andrew.
He walked in, tall and confident in a sharp suit, and his cologne filled the air with a crisp scent that matched his serious attitude.
“Mother,” he said, his voice short, but he managed a tight smile.
Eleanor’s face lit up. “Andrew, what a lovely surprise,” she replied warmly, even though she noticed the coolness in his tone.
Andrew didn’t waste any time chatting. He took out a sleek folder and set it down on the small table next to her chair.
“Mother, I need you to sign these papers,” he stated, his words quick and to the point.
“It’s just a little thing. It will give me access to your accounts and the company’s assets. I’ll take care of everything for you—it’ll make things much simpler.”
Eleanor blinked, her delicate hands hovering over the folder.
“Oh, Andrew, if it will make your life easier…” she started, her voice fading away.
Nurse Claire stepped in front of Eleanor before she could grab the pen, her usual gentle look replaced by a serious one.
“Ma’am,” she said firmly, her voice calm, “maybe we should look at these papers later. It’s been a long day, and you really need to rest.”
Andrew’s face tightened, and his forced smile disappeared. “It’s just a signature,” he shot back, his voice sharp.
Claire stood her ground. “Later,” she insisted, her eyes steady on him.
Eleanor glanced between them, feeling confused but willing to go along with it.
“Okay, Andrew. We can do it later,” she replied softly, still trusting him even with the nurse stepping in.
Andrew stood up quickly, irritation clear on his face.
“Fine. I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said, turning away and leaving without saying anything else.
As his footsteps faded away, Claire knelt next to Eleanor’s chair, her tone gentle. “Are you okay?”
Eleanor nodded, but her smile was weak.
“He’s my son, Claire,” she said, her voice filled with emotion. “He just wants what’s best for me… doesn’t he?”
Claire paused for a moment, feeling a pang of sympathy for the old woman.
“Of course, Ma’am,” she said softly, but uncertainty flickered in her eyes.
The garden was a peaceful retreat, far removed from the usual noise of the nursing home.
Roses bloomed beautifully, climbing up the trellises, their delicate petals glowing in the warm afternoon sun.
A small fountain gurgled gently, its sound blending with the happy chirping of sparrows hopping from branch to branch.
The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of jasmine, making it seem like the outside world had vanished.
Nurse Claire pushed Eleanor along the stone pathway, making sure the ride was as smooth as possible.
She looked down at the elderly woman, whose expression was calm as she took in the lovely surroundings.
Claire felt a moment of hesitation, her thoughts tangled between her heart and her words.
“Ma’am,” she finally spoke, her voice a bit shaky, “I know it’s not really my place, but Andrew… he doesn’t seem to care about what you really need.”
Eleanor let out a soft laugh, her fragile hands resting gently on her lap. “Oh, Claire, he’s my son. He’s just driven. That’s not a bad thing.”
Claire halted the wheelchair and knelt next to Eleanor, her voice gentle yet urgent.
“Ambitious? Perhaps. But he doesn’t view you as his mother. He sees you as a way to get what he wants. If you let him manage your money, he’ll forget about you. He’s already left you here, hasn’t he?”
Eleanor’s smile wavered, the warmth in her eyes fading a bit. She didn’t reply, instead gazing at the roses as if they could offer her comfort.
Claire continued, her voice growing stronger.
“This nursing home is having a tough time. It might have to shut down soon. If you invested in it instead, you’d ensure your own comfort here and help others who need it.”
Eleanor reached out with a shaky hand and placed it over Claire’s, her touch light yet steady.
“Claire, dear, I’ve always believed in one thing: what goes around comes around. If Andrew wants my money, then that’s his choice. The universe will take care of everything.”
Claire’s eyes filled with frustration, her voice trembling a little.
“That’s… unrealistic, Ma’am. Life doesn’t always work like that.”
Eleanor smiled again, the corners of her mouth lifting in a way that was both kind and resolute.
“It always has for me, Claire,” she replied softly.
Claire sighed, glancing at the fountain as if it might provide the answer she couldn’t find. The water sparkled in the sunlight, but no clarity came.
She squeezed Eleanor’s hand gently. “I hope you’re right,” she murmured, though the doubt in her voice lingered.
Eleanor turned her head towards the fountain, her eyes lost in thought. “I know I am,” she murmured, almost as if she were talking to the universe.
The morning sun poured through the window, filling the room with a warm light while Claire organized Eleanor’s bedside table.
In the hallway, the soft buzz of voices hinted that another busy day was beginning at the nursing home.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and Andrew walked in, his shiny shoes clicking on the wooden floor. A man in a sharp suit followed him, carrying a leather briefcase.
“Mother, it’s great to see you again,” Andrew said quickly, giving a brief smile. His voice felt more urgent than loving.
Eleanor’s face brightened, her delicate hands resting on the arms of her chair. “Andrew, you’re back! Did you bring the papers?”
“Of course,” he answered, taking a thick stack of papers from the briefcase and setting them on the table.
“Just sign here, here, and here,” he said, pointing to the spots with a pen.
Claire, who had been quietly watching from the doorway, felt uneasy. “Ma’am…” she started gently, stepping closer.
Eleanor raised a hand, her voice steady but kind. “It’s okay, Claire. I trust my son.”
With determination, she picked up the pen. Her hand shook a little as she signed each line, but her face stayed calm.
Andrew’s smile grew bigger as he quickly picked up the papers, moving with practiced ease.
“Thanks, Mom. You won’t regret this,” he said, already on his way to the door. He didn’t turn around as he left, the lawyer following closely behind him.
Claire went over to Eleanor, her eyes filled with sadness. She knelt down next to the older woman and gently placed her hand on hers.
“I’m really sorry. No one should be treated like that by their own child.”
Eleanor gave Claire’s hand a reassuring pat, her smile gentle but strong.
“Don’t feel sorry, dear,” she replied softly. “What goes around comes around.”
Claire looked closely at Eleanor’s face, hoping to find some sign of regret or uncertainty, but there was none.
The older woman’s calm confidence made Claire feel both comforted and a little uneasy.
The soft sound of knitting needles clicked in Eleanor’s room as she sat in her armchair, bright yarn slipping through her delicate fingers.
Her concentration on the neat stitches was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.
When she looked up, Claire walked in, her face pale and her eyes filled with concern.
“Ma’am,” Claire started, her voice shaking, “I need to tell you something.”
Eleanor put her knitting down and smoothed the blanket over her lap. “What is it, dear?” she asked, her voice steady and soothing.
Claire took a deep breath, nervously twisting her hands. “Andrew… he stopped paying your nursing home bills. We… we have to ask you to leave by the end of the week.”
Eleanor’s hands shook slightly, but she pressed them together to regain her composure. Her gaze softened as she looked at Claire, a gentle smile appearing on her lips.
“It’s okay, Claire,” she said softly. “Everything will be fine. It always works out in the end.”
Before Claire could reply, a loud knock broke the moment. A deliveryman walked in, carrying a large bouquet of white lilies and a sealed envelope addressed to Eleanor.
Claire quickly grabbed the bouquet and envelope, her expression puzzled.
She handed the flowers to Eleanor and opened the envelope, revealing a neatly folded note. Clearing her throat, she began to read it aloud.
“I will always remember what you did for me. When I had nothing, you offered me shelter and helped me rebuild my life. You made a difference. Please accept this small gesture of thanks.”
Claire’s voice wavered, her professional facade cracking. “It’s signed… but there’s no name,” she said quietly.
Eleanor adjusted her glasses, her hands shaking as she took the note. Her eyes scanned the signature, and recognition sparked in her expression.
Her smile grew wider, and her eyes shone with surprise and warmth.
“I remember him,” she whispered. “A homeless boy from years ago. I never thought…”
Claire wiped a tear from her cheek and placed her hand over Eleanor’s.
“Ma’am, along with the flowers came a significant donation. It’s enough to save the nursing home and renovate it. The only condition is that you are taken care of in every way.”
Eleanor reclined, her smile bright.
“What goes around comes around, Claire. It always does.”
The lilies perfumed the room with their gentle scent, as the burden of doubt faded away, replaced by hope and a reminder of the kindness that had returned.