Wednesday morning, she arrived at his cabin to find him dressed and ready to go to his doctor’s appointment. “I appreciate your coming with me,” he told her. “I really hate going into medical offices. They smell so sterile and icky.” “Icky?” “Yeah,” he said, flashing a grin. “You look nice.” “So do you—well, better anyway.” He still looked tired. Half-circles framed his eyes, and he looked pale and drawn out. The illness had really knocked him for a loop, she realized. “Thanks, I think,” he muttered, casting her a curious glance. In her car, he turned to her. “I want to thank you for all the nursing over the past few days. I’m sure I would have died without your tender ministrations.” “You would not have died,” she said with a rueful smile, starting the car and driving out and to the main roadway. “Well, it felt like I was dying. I don’t know how little kids do it.” “What?” “Persevere despite painful ear infections.”
