She’d felt like crying but the tears wouldn’t come. The prognosis was guarded and there had been reason to fear at first that he might never again be the man he had been. But the neurologist cautioned against jumping to conclusions, pointing out that Bobby Joe was young and healthy, and might very well recover completely.

“His mother’s still in intensive care, as you probably know.” Ned Quinton’s voice broke into her thoughts.

“I stopped by to see her this morning.”

Alma Weston had regained full consciousness almost immediately but was still unable to walk or get out of bed. She hadn’t broken anything—a blood clot on the base of her spine had temporarily paralyzed her.

The risk of infection, and other, more minor complications from the crash, had kept her in the ICU, where Howard Caine rarely left her side. She’d greeted Mary Beth with bright eyes and a smile, as usual.

Today—and every other day she’d visited—Mary Beth summoned up every cheery reassurance she could think of, making small talk that never touched on the last quarrel she’d had with Bobby Joe. His mother didn’t need to hear about Mary Beth asking for a trial separation while they were still engaged. Her dad didn’t either. She’d avoided his gaze, sensing that he might have guessed there was trouble between her and Bobby Joe.

Ned Quinton didn’t have to know that either.

“Family and friends mean a lot to patients,” he said absently, looking through the papers on his clipboard. “Now, if and when Mrs. Weston is cleared to go home, she’ll need a hospital bed and some other medical and mobility equipment and probably a home health aide. I can coordinate that in advance if you’d like.”

“Thank you.”

“Once it’s in the database, one of her physicians will sign the orders for everything she needs before she’s released.”

He said nothing about Bobby Joe going home. Mr. Quinton wasn’t a doctor, of course, but Mary Beth had hoped—irrationally—that he might know something she didn’t. She hadn’t visited Bobby Joe yet.

Driving back and forth between Iminga and the hospital ate up what was left of her time when she wasn’t visiting. Sometimes she just dozed off where she was and didn’t bother to go home at all. But nothing else mattered more to her than helping the Westons and her dad.

Her request for a leave of absence from the school system had been immediately granted. The recovery was expected to take a long while, and she’d explained her role in it to the satisfaction of her supervisor.

When the time came, she and Parr would coordinate the caregiving. They were learning fast, but the potent emotional connection between them had been subsumed by worry and exhaustion. Guilt nagged at her. She couldn’t share that burden with Parr.