“She’s a widow, Ma,” he said, mildly amused that his mother had been stewing herself into a snit over nothing.

Birdie’s eyes widened into two huge circles of embarrassed surprise. “Well, that puts a whole new spin on things, doesn’t it?”

He grinned and finished making the bed, wanting the room to be tidy before Dr. Haas arrived. Her medical appointments were coming to an end, which meant Patrick needed to settle up on the bill. He’d pulled two hundred dollars together, but it would probably cost more than that. It shouldn’t take him too long to pay, since his victory in the Blackstone case had already brought him new clients. The owner of a canning factory wanted his help with a zoning issue, and three people wanted wills. All would pay in cash.

Birdie pestered him for details about Gwen, but he was reluctant to discuss her yet. The feelings he had for Gwen were too raw and primitive. He wanted to chop down a tree for firewood to warm her house. Build her a castle. He wanted to haul home a side of beef to feed their family, the dozen children they would have together. He wanted to plant her on top of a pedestal and be a hero for her.

“I like her,” he said simply, hoping Birdie would settle for that answer.

She’d have to, since Dr. Haas had arrived. Patrick stood off to the side and watched the examination in approval as his mother was able to stand, bend, and raise her arms on command.

A sense of well-being flooded him, and he impulsively bowed his head, praying silently. Dear Lord, you saw fit to take my father before Birdie had the big family she always wanted. Please, please let her live long enough to welcome grandchildren who will love her as I have done.

“It looks as if all your motor skills are working as hoped, Mrs. O’Neill,” the doctor said as he concluded his examination. “Start getting up on your feet for five or ten minutes at a time. Aim for a little more each day.”

Patrick closed the door to his mother’s bedroom before walking the doctor to the front room because he didn’t want her worrying about money.

“I need to know what I owe for my mother’s treatment.”

Dr. Haas looked surprised. “That’s not necessary. Everything is paid for by the college.”

Patrick shook his head. “A man should pay his own way in this world, but I don’t know how much that special serum costs.”

“Each dose costs around fifteen thousand dollars.”

Patrick choked on his own breath. He cleared his throat a few times while gathering his thoughts. “That’s a little steeper than I thought,” he managed to get out. It was more than he had earned in his entire life. He could go to his grave still owing on that bill.