What a Mother Knows Read Free Page B

little too sharply. The others exchanged looks.
    â€œI know, honey,” Michelle said. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just tired. And I missed you.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it.
    â€œOf course you did.” Cathy checked her watch. “This is an awful lot of fuss all of a sudden. Why don’t I take Tyler home with us tonight? I put a casserole in the fridge for you and Drew.”
    â€œIs that okay?” Tyler asked.
    Michelle blushed at the idea of being alone with her husband. Tyler took that as a yes and kissed her cheek good-bye.
    After the others left, Lexi asked to see the handicapped shower bar Drew had installed. As they disappeared down the hallway, it grew so quiet that Michelle could hear the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. She was used to the white noise of hospital activity, but now even Bella had stopped barking.
    Michelle swiped chocolate frosting off the last clump of cake and licked it from her finger. She felt too frail to clean the mess of crumpled napkins and half-filled cups. She had been warned that fatigue could last for years, but that didn’t explain her unease. Certainly, her friends would watch her closely to make sure she was okay. But they seemed wary as well.
    As she looked around the room, something else felt off. The very air smelled different, perhaps from dust. Michelle’s senses had come alive during her recovery, as if compensating for the loss of sensation in her right arm. She loved the orchids, partly because they had no scent. The lavender candle from Julie was sealed well enough, but the whiff of lemon crumbs on Cathy’s platter made her nose twitch.
    Drew and Lexi’s footsteps echoed down the hallway. “Time to say good-bye, my friend,” Lexi called, meeting her in the foyer. She unzipped her case and pulled out the clipboard full of discharge papers. Michelle hesitated, feigning interest in the X she had made on the signature line—all she could manage left-handed. Despite months of anticipation, saying good-bye to Lexi was the moment she had dreaded most.
    Lexi handed the clipboard to Drew. He flipped through the documents until he came to an outpatient referral form. “I thought she was done with Dr. Palmer.”
    â€œYes, as far as the hospital is concerned,” Lexi said. “But the physiatrist who coordinated her treatment always recommends outpatient care. Patients tend to slack off on home exercises. If she sees Dr. Palmer at his clinic, he’ll bill your insurance directly. If she decides not to, he can sign the physician’s release to complete the file. Oops, I forgot to include that. I’ll drop it by in case you need it.”
    Drew saw the prescriptions clipped underneath. “More antidepressants?”
    â€œNo, that was short-term, typical for recovery patients. These are antianxiety meds, in case of adjustment issues. Some patients need them, some don’t.”
    â€œGood idea,” Drew said.
    â€œOh, please,” Michelle said to Lexi. “The only adjustment I’ll have is to you not being here.” When she heard the words aloud, she burst into tears. Over the past year, friends and family had come and gone, but Lexi was there every day. She was the one Michelle could trust with each step on the treadmill, the one who refused to let her settle for less.
    Lexi embraced Michelle. “I’m going to miss you, too. Everybody will—and now the nurses will have to read the fairy tales.” They laughed together, triumphant and miserable. After a moment, Drew reached for Michelle, as if to reclaim her.
    Lexi handed a tissue to Michelle. “You’ll be fine, see? This big strong husband of yours will take good care of you.” She reached in her case and pulled out the plastic bag of Michelle’s personal items. The bag slipped, spilling treasures to the floor. Lexi apologized and crouched to retrieve the silver brush and a