“Now, lean forward.” He untied the sling and carefully moved one sleeve up her left arm, then looped the shirt behind her and she slipped her unharmed arm in the other sleeve. The shirt was open a few inches as he untied the apron and buttoned her blouse. The cotton top was big and white and clean. It also showed the outline of her breasts, but he wasn’t about to mention that.

She smiled. “Thank you, Harrison.”

“You are welcome. There’s nothing I can’t figure out if you give me time. That shirt is long enough to be a short dress. I’ll put a blanket over your legs and you’ll look all proper.”

She raised one arm and circled his neck as he lifted her. When he lowered her into the wheelchair, she kissed his cheek.

He didn’t move away. “Your aim’s off, Millie. Try again.”

To his surprise, she did. One chaste kiss against his lips.

Hank nodded once and straightened. He was back in middle school with the vanilla kiss. If his hunch was right, she knew little of what goes on between a man and a woman. They’d have to go back to “first date” level to start anything happening between them. Not likely, he decided. She wasn’t his type and she probably wasn’t interested. Millie lived her life in books.

Though he had to admit, her breasts were nicely rounded, even if they were small. The minute the thought came into his brain, he wished he could knock it out.

After tucking her blanket in on both sides, he pushed her slowly out the back door, where he’d rigged up a ramp that rolled her right to his dad’s old Lincoln.

He wasn’t surprised the neighbor was watching. She never offered any help or brought over a meal. She must just be the town watcher.

Hank waved.

The woman didn’t wave back.

Another day, another time, he would have waved with one finger, but not today. Hank even caught himself driving like an old man, slowing down at green lights, letting other drivers cut into his lane. If he didn’t straighten up, he’d be leaving his blinker on and flashing his brights for no reason at all.

“Will your dad miss his car?” Millie fought to keep her voice calm, but he knew she was hurting.

“No. He hasn’t driven for three years. I suggested selling this old clunker, but it’s a symbol of his freedom, I guess. He won’t sell the house either.”

“Do you stay there when you come to visit?”

“No. I stay at a motel. Feels more like home.” He winked at her as if silently saying that she already knew that about him. “We’re friends, Millie. Right?”