Carolina Girl
“But right now she was afraid to move despite the drugs the nurse had promised would take the edge off. Pain stalked her like a wolf, hungry for her bones. She closed her eyes, hoping to escape its attention.
You’re a rock star, Jerome, the bald, black, very buff physical therapist had told her not twenty minutes ago. He’d eased her leg up from the plinth table, testing her range of motion. Forty degrees. Way to go, Tess.
Tess had appreciated both his encouragement and the compliment. She liked Jerome. A good thing, since the young man had had his hands places nobody but her husband, Tom, had touched in years. But she didn’t feel like a rock star. Since that damn drunk driver had slammed into the front end of her car, she’d felt frighteningly frail, discouragingly old, and increasingly frustrated.
The bedside phone rang. The hospital line, Tess thought. Meg had bought both her parents prepaid phones before she went back to New York, but cell phone reception in the rooms was lousy.
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