My mother, drawn and pale. The plump hand that could touch so gently now thin and bony, clutching the sheet.
Softly: "I don't know, Richard...."
"The doctors should know, Laura. The hospital should know. Do you doubt what they said?"
"No. I don't doubt them."
Faw-Faw, why was I so frightened?
"They've seen cases like yours before, those Army doctors. They have an ugly word for it in the Army, Laura."
"Richard, I'm sorry...."
Anger, red anger. Would he take the thick brown strap to her? Oh, never, Faw-Faw, never!
"Two years of work! Two years—and now that pip-squeak Morgan is 'filling in' for me! It's just not fair, don't you see that? And all because you think you're sick."
"Richard...."