“You’ll be more comfortable leaning back in one of the recliners,” Emmitt said. “I think if I sit on the stepstool, I’ll be at the right height to work on your forehead. Go ahead and get settled while I grab the suture removal kit out of my bag.”
The lingering smell of Mom’s pot roast from dinner was different from the scents Nash was used to noticing during clinical procedures, but the easy classical music playing on the stereo was reminiscent of the times he’d assisted Emmitt in the operating room before his transfer to the surgical floor.
After Emmitt fetched the kit he’d brought home, he retrieved a folding stepstool from the laundry alcove, then set up a TV tray next to it. He wiped the tray, stepped away to wash his hands, then returned with a bowl of sudsy water and a washcloth.
