The detour looked manageable on the map. On foot, it began with a curb Kellan had to lift the cart over and ended at a bus stop with no bench.
Mrs. Ellis stood beside him, breathing slowly after the climb. She needed treatment across the river twice a week. Before the bridge closed, the journey had taken one bus and a short walk. Now the bus stopped on the near side, and the temporary route ran through an underpass before joining another service farther downstream.
“How long did that take?” she asked.
Kellan checked his watch. “Thirty-eight minutes to the stop.”
“And the bus?”
“Another twelve, if it’s on time.”
She looked at the exposed pavement where she was expected to wait. A narrow railing separated the stop from the road. There was no shelter from rain and no place to sit without blocking the path.
“I’m not sure I can do this after treatment,” she said.
