Thomas looked up at me from the pillows, his index finger tapping twice on the metal safety railing of the hospital bed.
“You always did have a soft touch, Nancy,” he said, his voice raspy but dry.
I reached up and adjusted the stiff collar of my nurse uniform, pulling it tight against my throat.
“The chart says you were admitted this morning, Thomas. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming back to Greenbrier?”
“I had to make sure you were still here first,” he said.
He looked toward the window, where the cold Ohio rain streaked the glass in gray lines.
“I work the day shifts now,” I said, moving to the IV pole to check the saline flow rate. “A forty-hour week keeps me busy, but it pays the bills.”
“At seventy-three, you should be sitting on a porch, not lifting patients,” Thomas said.
“My rent is six hundred and fifty dollars a month, Thomas. A retired nurse’s pension only stretches so far.”
