Free Never Too Late by Robyn Carr

interested in the progression of her recovery. She found that when she heard his voice on the phone, it pleased her. He was so friendly and solicitous, wondering if there was anything he could do, anything she needed.
    Today was no different. He called and asked how it was going, and she told him about her three trips a week to physical therapy, how many pain pills she was popping a day, how long it was taking Roger to get out of the house. “But I’m afraid I’ve never been very patient,” she told him.
    â€œSlow going, is it?”
    â€œOh, you have no idea.”
    â€œGetting out much?” he asked.
    â€œNot getting out at all—except for physical therapy. But the worst of it is, I have no privacy. I am so grateful to my family for their help—I’d be doomed without it, but you can’t imagine what it’s like living with your father and sister after you’ve been on your own for years.”
    â€œMust be a little crowded there, huh?”
    â€œThe house is definitely shrinking. I’m having a brief reprieve. School’s finally out and Jason grows inches a day, so I sent him with Dotty to do some shopping. I gave her strict orders not to try to dress him—he gets to pick his own clothes, however crazy they seem.”
    â€œHe’s gotta appreciate that,” Sam said. Then, “Hang on one second, Clare.” Slightly muffled, she heard him order an iced latte with whipped cream. “Okay,” he said, coming back to her.
    â€œThat sounded good,” she said. And she thought, it would be nice to get out for a coffee. With Sam or anyone.
    â€œBut tell me—how are you really feeling? Physically? You sound better every time I talk to you.”
    â€œI might be impatient with my progress—but the doctor says I’m doing great. And I have to admit, I feel just a little better every day. I get around without crutches most of the time and it’s only after being up all day and tiring out that I have to rely on them. Not only that—I’m not all that sorry that I’ve dropped a couple of pounds, even if I wouldn’t recommend the diet. And despite all my bitching, I think my housing situation is going to improve soon. It looks like by the middle of June I’ll get to go home. I’ll have to stay on the ground floor, of course. I still can’t manage the stairs.”
    â€œClare, how long have you been separated, if you don’t mind the question?”
    â€œNot at all. Going on six months. I would have filed for divorce by now, but it’s a bad time to shake up all the health benefits, et cetera. And—should Roger be a pain in the butt about all the particulars, I have to be a bit stronger to deal with him.”
    â€œAre you sure this is final for you?”
    â€œAbsolutely. Not only is it almost six months now—it’s the fourth time in ten years. I may be a slow learner, but I’m steady.”
    â€œIs it…Was it for the reason you gave me when I caught you speeding?”
    â€œUnfortunately. Roger is a tomcat. Can’t help himself. It’ll never change. And even if it does, I’m moving on. Are you married? Single? Divorced?”
    He laughed softly. “Clare, if I were married, I doubt my wife would be happy about how often I’ve called you.”
    â€œOh, it’s nice of you to check on me,” she said. “Thoughtful. Sensitive.”
    â€œSingle,” he answered.
    The doorbell rang. “Oh damn,” she said. “Someone’s here.”
    â€œYou don’t have to answer the door if you’re not feeling up to it. No excuses necessary.”
    She groaned a little as she got to her feet. “No, I’m up to it. I’d just rather finish this conversation is all. Maybe I could call you back? I hear the radio in the background so I know you’re on duty. But you could let me see who this is and maybe you could call me