Despite the creeping tingles in his left foot, Harlan was doing his best not to move. The vinyl cushion belched every time he adjusted his weight, and he was determined to spare himself the embarrassment of the young nurse"s assuming his stomach was the culprit.
She smiled at him as she fastened the blood pressure cuff around his arm. “How was the trip down, Mr. Cotton?”
“Same as always. Long and boring,” he said.
The truth was, though, Harlan had been thankful for the drive. The two hours from Cranston to Waco always gave him time to clear his head and order his thoughts. He had awakened before dawn, his mind filled with a jumble of minutiae for the Morton boy"s service. By the time he arrived at the V.A., he had successfully ordered all the problems into manageable logistical categori
