An hour later she was waiting in her car outside Marge Culpepper’s house. The engine was running, the radio was playing, and she was tapping the steering wheel nervously.

Marge climbed in beside her, squeezing her large self onto the small bucket seat.

“You can slide the seat back—it will give you more room.”

“You can’t be serious about this seat belt, Lucy. Nobody has a waist this small.”

“Toby does.” Lucy smiled. “He’s a stick. How’s Barney?”

“The same.” Marge sighed.

“What do the doctors say?”

“Well, they say there’s more brain activity. That means he could wake up pretty soon. But I don’t know. He looks just the same. He’s hooked up to all sorts of machines. It’s been an awful long time.”

“Less than two weeks,” Lucy said.

“Seems like forever,” said Marge. “I don’t know how I’d have managed if it wasn’t for Dave.”

“Dave Davidson?” Lucy was surprised.

“Yeah,” said Marge. “To tell the truth, I never really liked him a whole lot before. I guess I thought he was kinda cold, but he’s really given me a lot of support. He drives me to the hospital, and talks with me about Barney. He even talks with the doctors for me.”

“Hmm,” said Lucy. “How’s Eddie doing?”

“Pretty good.” Marge sighed. “He spends a lot of time with his friends. I haven’t brought him to the hospital. I didn’t want him to see Barney like this.”

“Is he all ready for the Pinewood Derby on Sunday? Did he get his car made?”

“He’s been ready for awhile. In fact, he and Barney finished up the car on Christmas Eve.”

“He’s way ahead of Toby. He’s still got to paint his and put on the wheels. He wants to paint it the Cub Scout colors—blue and yellow.”

Marge chuckled softly, then fell silent. Now and then Lucy tried to make conversation, but Marge didn’t seem interested in chatting, so Lucy gave up. All too soon they arrived at the hospital. Together they walked through the automatic doors and down the long maze of hallways to the intensive care unit.

“Do you want some time alone with him?” asked Lucy.

“No. Actually, I’m supposed to meet Dave in a few minutes. You go on in. He always enjoyed your company. I’ll be over at the chapel.”

Standing alone outside the door, Lucy wondered what Marge meant. Surely she didn’t think that Barney. . . that she and Barney were more than friends, did she? But Marge had always been completely straightforward, never one for double entendres, Lucy thought to herself, and pushed open the door.