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swollen wrist. “Lots of blood and guts, though I haven’t seen too many legs falling off.”
    “Oh.” Flynn gave a disappointed shrug. “Hanging off, then?”
    “Hanging off?” Cheryl frowned, as if she was thinking hard. “Yep, now you mention it, I’ve seen a few of them.”
    “Sick!” Flynn exclaimed, and from his enthusiastic smile, Cheryl assumed that meant he was suitably impressed.
    “Apparently sick ’s the new word for cool .” Beth sighed as Cheryl finished her examination and gently placed the boy’s arm back onto the pillow. “Normally, I’d never worry Hal when he’s out on call.” She was ringing her hands in concern as she watched her son. “But Flynn’s been in agony since he fell, though you wouldn’t think it to look at him now. I gave him some painkillers, but if you’d seen him before…”
    “The painkillers would have kicked in by now—and now he’s not moving his arm and he’s sitting quietly, which is why he’s not upset. He had good reason to make a fuss and you had every reason to call your husband.” Cheryl looked up at Beth. “He’s broken his wrist.”
    “Sick!” Flynn shouted, as Beth promptly dissolved into tears.
    “Now, how about you lie there quietly for a moment, Flynn, while I speak to your mom, and soon I’ll be back and we can see about making your arm a bit more comfortable.”
    “I’m sorry,” Beth gulped as they reached the kitchen. “I know it’s only a broken wrist and you probably think I’m overreacting. It’s just that…”
    “It’s the last thing you need right now,” Cheryl said as Beth nodded slowly. “You’ve got a new baby, Beth. It’s no wonder you’re upset that Flynn’s broken his arm. Any mother would be.”
    “I suppose.” Beth didn’t sound particularly convinced or comforted. “Do you have kids, Cheryl?”
    “No.” Cheryl gave a small smile. “But I’ve seenenough moms in my line of work to know that your reaction to Flynn’s injury is perfectly normal. There’s nothing wrong with shedding a few tears.”
    “Oh, don’t mind me.” Beth forced a smile. “I’m fine. The kettle’s just boiled, Cheryl. Can I make you a drink before you get started?”
    “Not for me, thanks. I’d best get started on setting that wrist.”
    “Well, after then,” Beth suggested. “I’ve made some cookies….”
    But Cheryl shook her head, keen to get the job done and return to town.
    “I think Mitch will want me to head straight back. If you can find me a bucket that would be great. I’ll also need some warm water for the plaster and a few towels.” Taking her cue, Beth scurried out of the kitchen, and Cheryl unloaded her backpack on the freshly scrubbed table. Come to think of it, everything was freshly scrubbed—the place was spotless.
    Immaculate even.
    So why didn’t it sit right? Cheryl wondered.
    “Are you going to put on a cast?” Beth asked, returning loaded with towels and a bucket.
    Cheryl shook her head. “Just a temporary back slab, but that should be enough to provide some relief for Flynn. His wrist doesn’t look displaced.” As Beth frowned, Cheryl checked herself and spoke in layman’s terms. “I’m pretty sure it’s just a small break with no deformity, but it will need to be confirmed by X ray. Given the weather, I think your chances of a trip to the hospital are slim. So for now, we’ll stick with the back slab. First, I bandage the arm with cotton wool, then put on a slab of plaster of Paris, which I’ll mold to his arm and attach with a bandage. It’ll come off easily when he gets to the hospital, but that will give him a lot of support and take care of his pain till then. Just keep his wrist in a sling, and once the storm is over, you can take him for an X ray and no doubt they’ll put on a more substantial cast.”
    “And he’ll be fine,” Beth said firmly, flashing a smile, but the sparkle of tears in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Cheryl.
    She narrowed her eyes in concern.