It was around two o’clock, in between Vera’s morning and late-afternoon visits. She talked to Martha every day, but it had taken this long for her conversation with Vera to soak in enough to feel comfortable mentioning it to Martha. She hadn’t done what Vera suggested yet—forgive her mother and give it all to God—but she was thinking about it. Martha answered, sounding groggy and grumpy. “Hi. It’s me. How are you feeling? How’s the foot today?” Danielle shuffled across the floor and closed the partially opened window. Earlier the room had felt stuffy, so she’d welcomed the cool breeze drifting through the bedroom amidst the rays of sun that beamed down on the wooden floors. But as predicted, the temperature was steadily dropping today. “It still hurts. I’m not sure when I’m ever going to be able to walk on it again.” Martha sighed. “But if there is anything good about this terrible situation, it’s all the creamed celery Katie Ann has been bringing me. How are you feeling?”
