Chapter 27

Lily stepped off the Greyhound bus and stretched. The ride was long, and she was happy to finally get off and walk around. She waited as the bags were unloaded and found her small brown suitcase. She walked into the small bus depot and found a man sitting at the ticket counter. She slowly walked up to him and spoke.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Praises of Hope nursing home."

The man was reading a paper. His eyes moved until they met hers.

He slowly folded his paper and said, "Praises of Hope? Don't you have a cell phone or GPS or something?"

Lily didn't have a cell phone. She didn't have anyone to call. She shook her head no.

The man smiled and said, "Well, I got maps for sale. Ain't sold a map in years, but I got 'em."

He grabbed a map and opened it. "Now see here, we're here, and the home is…well, down here." He pointed at both locations. "You could take a bus or cab. Hell, you could even walk if your feet are up to it," he said.

She smiled and watched the man point with his finger. "No, I think I'll take a cab. Can you show me where I can find a motel?"

She took a cab to an old, rundown motel at the edge of town, where she rented a small room for 3 nights. When she entered the room, the first thing she noticed was the smell. The room smelled musty as if no one had stayed in it for years. She set down her suitcase and opened the large window facing the parking lot. As she stared out the window, she thought about Owen and how kind he'd been to her. Her thoughts wandered to the day they finished recording her record. Owen had purchased a cheap bottle of champagne and wanted to celebrate.

"We did it!" Owen exclaimed. "You're gonna be a star, Lily. We've both put our blood, sweat, and tears into this record. Now it's time to celebrate!" He picked up the bottle and poured some champagne into a small plastic cup.

"Now don't you go tellin' anyone I gave you champagne. It's our little secret," he said, winking at her. "We're on our way!"

Lily smiled and walked away from the window. She decided to go see Owen in the morning. She didn't know what would happen, but she knew she had to see him.

She was awakened by the sound of a large crash. She felt disoriented and for a moment didn't remember where she was. She then looked around the room and began to focus her eyes.

She heard the loud noise again and went to the large window. A dump truck was emptying a large trash dumpster. She watched for a moment and closed the curtain, then walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. As she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, she wondered if Owen would recognize her. It had been so many years.

Lily showered and dressed, then called the cab company and waited for her ride. After what seemed like an eternity, she saw the cab pull into the motel parking lot. She grabbed her large purse, walked outside to the cab, and got inside.

When she arrived, the lady at the front desk gave her directions to Owen's room. He was lying in bed. Eyes closed. She gently knocked on the door.

"Go away! Let an old man be!" he yelled, not opening his eyes. "I told you I don't feel well. Leave me alone."

She walked over to the bed. "Owen," she said softly.

He fluttered his eyes open to see Lily standing over him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"Owen, it's me. It's Lily." She grabbed his hand and squeezed it softly.

"Lily?" he whispered.

She nodded. "It's me."

They both had tears in their eyes. She leaned down and hugged him. He hugged her back. She released him and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Lily, where have you been?" he asked, sitting up in bed. "You just stopped writing and calling."

She grabbed a chair and sat it next to the bed.

"I'm so sorry, Owen. I just couldn't do it anymore. I felt so lost and alone. It was hard out there alone. I just walked away one day. I didn't want the money. I never did. I took what Clyde had left and put it in a safety deposit box. I took my money and held it in a trust. Things were okay for a while. I had an apartment and a job. That's when I was writing to you."

She wiped more tears from her eyes. He smiled at her and reached for her hand.

"I started drinking to numb the pain. It just took hold of me. I started not to care. Thought maybe Amanda was right. Maybe I wasn't good enough. So, one day I left my apartment and never came back. I'm so sorry, Owen."

"It's okay. You're here now," he said. He let go of her hand, then swung his legs over the side of the bed and slowly put his feet on the floor. He reached for the wheelchair sitting next to the bed, swung himself over, and landed in the chair. "I've gotten pretty good at gettin' around." He was now sitting directly in front of her.

"I tried to call once," Lily said, "but the number was out of service."

He frowned. "My no-good daughter put me in a home years ago. Once I lost the use of my legs, she had no need for me. We never got along anyway. One day she told me she was done, and she put me in a home. Not this home. I've been kicked out of 6 so far. This one is okay. The doc is a nice old bird."

"Six nursing homes?" Lily said.

He smiled. "Yes, six. I guess I'm just a crotchety old man who has a foul mouth and doesn't want to be bothered." He wheeled his chair over to the small dresser and opened the bottom drawer. He pulled out the photo album and wheeled back over to Lily.

"I've kept this all these years. I look at this probably every day."

He handed the album to her. She set it on her lap and opened it. She smiled as she looked through the old photos, sometimes looking up at him to see him smiling. She came to the picture of her sitting on a black baby grand piano. She had a white lily in her hair. He smiled widely. "Remember when we took this?" he said excitedly.

She shook her head yes. "We'd just finished recording 'Grandma'," she said.

"Yes. I knew it was going to be a hit," he said. "But then all that bullshit with fucking Amanda Worthington-Blass. She had no right, Lily. No right. You didn't ask to be his daughter. She was an evil, vengeful bitch, and I'm glad she's dead."

She looked at Owen and frowned. "Owen, don't say that. She died a horrible death."

"She got what she deserved," he said flatly. "She could have used her money for something good. Instead, she used it to hurt people. She hurt you, me, Clyde, and your mom." He saw a tear fall from her eye.

"I'm sorry, Songbird. It's just that you're something special, and I tried to make things right. I did."

"I know, Owen," she said. "But that's all past. I've been staying at a shelter on and off. The people are really nice. They were always trying to help me. Make sure I had food, warm clothes, or a place to sleep. I donated my trust to the shelter. All of it."

Owen's eyes widened. "All of it?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. "I thought the money would be better spent helping others. I set it up so the money would be donated, but it didn't happen. Someone took the money."

"What are you talking about, took it?" he said. "You can't just take a trust." "I know."

"Unless you have the money and the means," he growled. "If it wasn't Amanda, then it was her bitchy daughter, Sally, or whatever the fuck her name was," he snarled.

"Sylvia," she replied.

"Yeah, Sylvia. She was a piece of work. That bitch sold out her own mother. She was a racist piece of shit."

"Same ol' Owen," Lily said, smiling. He smiled back. "So anyway, I got into a program. Went and took some of Clyde's money out of the bank and got a small room. It's so funny how things work, Owen. This girl, a reporter, was doing a story on the shelter. She heard me sing. I told her about the record, and she found it. She played it for me. She actually found it."

He smiled. "She played it for you?"

"Yes. It was wonderful, Owen. I just got swept up in it. It made me want to get clean. Sing again. The shelter is having a fundraiser in a few weeks. I'm going to sing, Owen," Lily said, sounding excited.

"Finally!" he shouted. "You should have been singing all along, you nitwit!" He chuckled.

"It's only a fundraiser, but I'm going to do it," she said.

"I'm happy for you, Songbird. You deserve happiness. I love you," he said. "I wish I could be there to hear you."

She smiled. "Me, too." She paused a moment. "There's something else." "What?" he asked.

"Well, the girl, the one who's writing the story. Her name is Tallulah. Anyway, she's a part-time writer for a magazine. You & Me. Sylvia owns the magazine. Anyway, she introduced me to another lady, Sharon, who works for Sylvia. She said Sylvia hired a private investigator to find me. She said she wants to meet me. She's dying, Owen. She has cancer."

"Cancer?�� he echoed.

"I said I didn't want to meet her. I don't think I want to," she said.

"That understandable. So, she knows you're her sister?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe. I told Tallulah the whole story. How we made the record and I was singing in small nightclubs. I told her about how you put every dime into that record. I told her about Amanda and Sylvia. The lawyer and the inheritance. Clyde. I told her everything," she said.

"And why shouldn't you?!" he exclaimed. "I mean, hell, why not tell your story? Why not be who you are? You shouldn't have to hide in the shadows or be ashamed. I'm glad you finally came to your senses. I told you a long time ago, we had the world to make a record."

"I know, I know," she said softly. "I wanted you to know. I'll have an address, too. Maybe you can come and visit me. Once I get on my feet, maybe live with me. I don't want to leave you here, Owen."

He smiled. "If I died today, I'd die a happy man. Knowing you're going to sing again. That you're getting your life together. You've still got time to make a good life, Lily."

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