One Shenandoah Winter (2010)
“At the clinic, in the town, everything continued at its normal pace, and yet everything was changed. Everyone knew about Poppa Joe. One person would ask, the entire town seemed to listen. It was that way. Hillsboro became a waiting room filled with bereaved relatives. Even the simplest word bore a shared concern.
That morning, as Nathan was relishing the late winter sunrise and his first cup of coffee, Connie called. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Not at all.” Which was not exactly true. The jangling phone had set his heart to racing. He had not received more than two dozen calls his entire time in Hillsboro, almost all of them emergencies. “What can I do for you?”
“Poppa Joe came down the mountain this morning. He’s here with me now.”
“How is he?”
“Fine. He’s . . . fine.”
“Connie, you need to be sure and tell me if he starts feeling pain.” No need to say it was an almost inevitable result of Poppa Joe’s illness. No need at all. “I can help with that.”
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