style="font-size:15px;"> Being a twenty-four-hour on-call nurse had nearly wiped out Anne, both physically and mentally. Not that her parents were demanding, but dealing with their dueling casts and cooking—something she loathed but did because her parents wouldn’t tolerate frozen food—had all taken its toll. She counted the days until Lucas’s return.
Thursday, the laundry got interrupted with a shout.
“Annie belle!” her father’s booming but muffled voice called from down the hall.
She rushed to his aid but the door wouldn’t open. “Don’t come in,” her mother said from the other side. Bart paced with concern outside.
Once again, modesty kept father from allowing daughter to help. Not that she could have anyway, without straining her back. “Then why call me?”
“Let me get something to cover him, then you can go in.”
Kieran had gotten the bright idea to take a bath with his leg propped up on the side of the tub. He’d log-rolled into the extra long master bath tub using his upper body strength and sheer will, with Beverly, the enabler, on standby. Mom had turned on the water. All had gone well until it was time to get out of the tub.
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