What they felt for each other had to be set aside and they’d managed to do so, by unspoken agreement. As if it was a protective talisman against more bad luck, she continued to wear the pendant he’d given her. He hadn’t asked about it again. The ruby strawberry was never in plain sight.

In the hazy days after the accident, they ran into each other constantly at the hospital, where there was no such thing as privacy. In Iminga, Mary Beth steered clear of the Weston house. She had a good excuse: Parr’s crew was renovating Alma’s kitchen in the meantime. He would take care of everything else for his mother, now that he’d moved to town from Memphis for an indefinite stay.

She didn’t want to run the risk of being alone with him, ever. Too many emotional triggers—and, if she was honest with herself, too much temptation to seek comfort in his arms once more. She had other things to think about besides Parr, and she needed to think straight.

The slow passing of time in a hospital, especially a large and unfamiliar one like Delta General, was disorienting. Mary Beth knew down to the minute when the nurses’ shifts changed, but she often didn’t know what day of the week it was.

Looking ahead was about all that kept her going.

Ned Quinton continued to fill out forms, referring to Bobby Joe’s and Alma’s medical files often and glancing occasionally at his watch, an unobtrusive hint that he was pressed for time.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, Miss Caine?”

“No,” Mary Beth said. “I guess that’s all I can do for now. It helps to set goals.”

“Of course.” He took a business card from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. “Please call or e-mail if you have any other questions.”

“I appreciate that.”

Quinton rose and they shook hands, and he went on his way.

Mary Beth collected her purse and jacket, which she slung over her arm. She couldn’t leave without seeing Bobby Joe, whether or not he was aware of her presence. Heartbreaking as it was to be with him, especially when he struggled to speak, her sense of obligation won out.

She had to help him. That was all there was to it.

Taking the elevator up to the ward and finding her way through the maze of corridors leading toward his room was something she could have done in her sleep by now. She nodded to the staff at the nursing station, and returned a few quick smiles as some looked up from their monitors to greet her.

“How is he doing today?” Mary Beth asked an RN in blue scrubs, an older woman she recognized as one who often attended to Bobby Joe.