Mary Beth kept listening, unwilling to interrupt the extraordinary closeness that the Westons shared. Now and again her dad got a word in, but the conversation was somewhat one-sided otherwise: Alma talked and Bobby Joe was content to listen to her for once.

The sun brightened noticeably—it was getting close to noon—and he closed his eyes as if too much light caused him pain.

“Want me to close the blinds?” Mary Beth whispered.

Bobby Joe nodded, an action that obviously hurt him.

Mary Beth was able to reach the cord that controlled them from her chair. One pull and the window was covered.

“Mom. I need to rest.” The blunt request took his mother aback, but then she seemed to remember the same facts they’d all been told concerning Bobby Joe’s condition.

“Oh, of course. I don’t know what possessed me to rattle on like that. I’m sorry, Bobby Joe.”

“Don’t be. It did me good to talk to you and see you.”

After several maternal kisses and a promise to chat again soon, he handed the phone back to Parr, speaking in a low tone. “Thanks. Wasn’t making excuses. I was starting to fall asleep. Didn’t want her to think I was passing out.”

“I understand.” Parr let it go at that, looking at the phone again. “Howard, you still on?”

“Yes. Let me see my little girl, please.”

Parr gave her the phone. The brief contact of his hand against hers was startlingly warm. Even warmer memories rushed through her mind until Mary Beth focused on her father’s face.

“Hi, Daddy. Want to meet later for dinner?” It seemed like a long time since she’d been alone with him. Right now, Mary Beth truly needed his steadying presence.

“If it’s okay with Alma, sure.”

Alma laughed. “It most certainly is. I’m tired of you eating half of what’s on my tray morning, noon, and night. Go out, by all means. But bring me back a piece of pie—I’d love some coconut pie. Cures all ills known to man and woman.”

“Yes, dear.”

Howard and Mary Beth set a time and said good-bye. She ended the call, giving the smartphone back to Parr.

He rose from the too small chair, discreetly stretching his long frame to get the kinks out, towering over both of them. Bobby Joe was drowsy. She guessed he would soon fall asleep and she stayed in her chair, close to him. It seemed safer.

Parr said good-bye, but his brother didn’t answer.

“Don’t worry,” Mary Beth said. “I think the chat took a lot out of him.”

“Guess so.” There was concern in his dark eyes.

“All his doctors say it’s normal for him to drop off like that. He still needs an incredible amount of sleep.”

“I don’t doubt it. He’s not out of the woods yet.”

She nodded.