Free Evil Never Dies (The Lizzy Gardner Series Book 6) by T.R. Ragan Page A

those eggs declined as I got older. I’m fifty-eight now. It’s too late for me.”
    Lizzy slid an arm into her jacket.
    “Both husbands refused to use donor eggs and both went on to remarry and have children of their own. One of them married my best friend, with whom I no longer speak. When I get lonely, I play the violin. I love going to operas. I spend most of my life sitting here in this chair listening to others without passing judgment. I listen to their stories and I see their sadness, feel their grief, and I know, above all, I cannot cry. It would be unprofessional to do so.”
    Lizzy slid her other arm into her jacket and shouldered her purse, her gaze never leaving Linda’s. And then she sat back down and listened.
    “Through my clients, I have learned forgiveness. So many hours I spend sitting in this chair, wanting to tell someone what to do, but I sit quietly and listen because I know that if I can draw in my own thoughts and listen really well, I’ll be more helpful to them. I have learned over the years that we are all children at heart and that we all need to be heard and understood. I have carried hundreds of stories deep within and when my clients hurt, I also hurt. When they mourn, I mourn with them. And through it all, my heart has grown bigger and stronger and for that I am eternally grateful.”
    “Thank you,” Lizzy said as she came to her feet once again.
    “You’re welcome.”
    Lizzy stopped at the door and said, “I’ll see you next week.”
    “I’ll be here.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    The only nursing home Kitally had visited in her lifetime was the one back east where she’d last seen her grandfather. It had been a happy place. There was always laughter and entertainment, piano music or singing. On one of her visits to see her grandfather, the staff had set up a little petting zoo outside, complete with miniature goats, rabbits, and sheep. They held classes—yoga and dancing. Even the people in wheelchairs used to dance.
    But Shady Oaks Nursing Home in Orangevale was nothing like that.
    One lady sat lopsided within her wheelchair, abandoned in the hallway, facing the wall. Kitally looked around. Would anyone notice if she walked over to the woman and turned her chair around so she could look at something other than a wall?
    “Can I help you?”
    The woman behind the front desk was looking her way. Her frizzy brown hair was clipped back. Her face was pinched.
    “I called a few hours ago about getting a tour of Shady Oaks,” Kitally said. “My mom and I need to find a place for my grandmother.”
    Exasperated, the woman picked up the receiver and said over the loudspeaker, “Janice Unger. Please come to the front desk.” After she hung up, she said, “Janice will be here momentarily. Please take a seat.”
    Kitally grabbed a magazine and settled into one of the plastic chairs lined up against the wall. Her gaze promptly returned to the woman in the wheelchair. She had yet to see the woman move a muscle. Is she asleep? Dead? Does anyone care?
    Figuring she could ask Janice about it when she arrived, Kitally skimmed through the magazine.
    “CAW! CAW!”
    Kitally jerked to attention.
    The frazzled woman behind the desk merely groaned. “There she goes again.”
    Kitally followed her gaze to the woman in the wheelchair. She wasn’t dead, after all. She came to her feet and did it again. “CAW! CAW!”
    The call of the wild. Within seconds all sorts of animal noises erupted from different sections of the building. The distinct moo of a cow was followed by the neigh of a horse. Then came a meow and a dozen barking dogs.
    What the hell is going on around here?
    If the frizzy-haired woman didn’t look so thoroughly agitated, Kitally might have laughed out loud. By the time the animal noises began to die off, a very round woman with short stubby arms and legs waddled toward the front desk.
    Frizzy-haired lady pointed at Kitally.
    The woman waddled her way. “I’m Janice Unger. Nice to