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Clint sat patiently in the parlor of the doctor’s home. He had been told Netty was resting. She had hit her head during the blast and broken her wrist. She was suffering from smoke inhalation and the coughing was draining her strength. The doctor would let him know shortly if she could have a visitor.
Clint felt wretched. Like a school boy waiting his turn with the school master. His stomach turned in anxious fits. He took a deep breath. He could smell the dried sweat on his smoky clothes, he hadn't even taken the time to clean up before coming. It didn't matter, all that mattered was that she was alive, that she would make it and maybe she would forgive him. In his wildest dreams she would not only forgive him but embrace him and let him make up for his mistakes by allowing him t
