“What if she isn’t? What if she’s taking a turn for the worse?”

The doctor tried to smile, but she must have been out of practice, because it didn’t quite fly. “Try not to worry,” she said. “The elderly are fragile.”

I looked back at Lillian, ignoring Bilbin’s convoluted statement. I wanted to protest that Lillian wasn’t “elderly”—until the stroke, she’d been active, if a little depressed. Now, she didn’t even seem like the same person. “I was planning on leaving town for a few days,” I said, “but now…”

“You go ahead,” Dr. Bilbin told me, when my voice fell away. “We have your contact information. If there’s anything to report, we’ll notify you immediately.”

I bit my lower lip, turned to study Lillian again, lying there in that spartan bed. “Maybe I should sit with her for a while,” I said.

“She won’t know the difference,” Bilbin assured me. I supposed her words were intended to be comforting, but they weren’t.

What broke my internal stalemate was knowing what Lillian would say if she were in full command of her body and mind. You go and spend some time with Jolie. It wouldn’t do for the two of you to grow apart.

Grimly, I nodded. I went back to the bed, kissed Lillian’s forehead, and forced myself to walk away. After making absolutely sure my cell number was on file at the desk, and that it was correct, I left Sunset Villa, got into my car and followed the signs to the 10 East.

An hour later, the Cactus Bend exit came in sight.

My foot automatically pressed down on the gas pedal. Keep going, I thought. Just keep going!

I let up on the petrol, determined not to wimp out, and merged onto the off-ramp. By the clock on my dashboard, which was right, give or take twenty minutes, I wasn’t due at Uncle Clive’s for over half an hour.

I decided to drive around a little. Acclimate myself.

My cell phone played its ditty-of-the-week just as I made a right turn onto Center Street. Certain that something dire was going on with Lillian, I dived for it. The trucker behind me leaned on his air horn, and I swerved to the side of the road, parked.

“Hello?” I cried breathlessly.

“It’s Tucker.”

I closed my eyes, dizzy with relief. No bad news about Lillian. At least, not yet. “Tucker,” I repeated numbly.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said. He was always asking me that, and I always gave him the same answer, whether it was true or not. This time, I was fine, or I would be, anyway, once the echo of that eighteen-wheeler’s air horn stopped reverberating through my nervous system.

“Sorry about cutting you off earlier,” Tucker said. “I was in the middle of something.”