Marlee knew what Mick was saying. “Surely no one expects weeks, months or years of continuous service. Rose drove Cole to treatments for four years.”
“Six flights is the most I’ve made for any single patient. If care is ongoing, most people arrange to stay temporarily near the hospital.”
“Then I can do this, Mick. What we went through with Cole was different. I’ll have no close ties, no relationship with anyone who may need us.” She broke away from Mick’s unwavering gaze to check her watch. Then she stretched out a hand toward her daughter. “Jo Beth, tell Uncle Mick goodbye.”
“Bye-bye. When I call Dean, is it all right to say you’re still getting a dog?”
Mick’s hearty laughter drowned out his twin’s reprimand. “Yes,” he said. “And when you call him, make sure you tell him how Mr. Maclean does in surgery. That’ll save your mother from having to communicate with an earthworm.” Mick pushed a button and lowered his bed. At once he groaned and grabbed for his bad hip, but he recovered enough to lean up on an elbow. “You two run along. Marlee, I’ll call Angel Fleet for you tonight. I’ll tell them to be kind to you.”
She gave him a tight smile over her daughter’s head. Mick’s bringing up Wylie Ames again produced a well-formed image of his brooding, handsome face, which Marlee did her best to push out of her mind.
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