By Jodi Picoult
While Willow is born with serious osteogenesis imperfecta, her mom and dad are devastated—she will endure countless numbers of damaged bones as she grows, a life of soreness. during this provocative tale from the number one New York Times bestselling writer, “Picoult writes with unassuming brilliance” (Stephen King).
Every expectant mum or dad will let you know that they don’t need a ideal child, only a fit one. Charlotte and Sean O’Keefe may have requested for a fit child, too, if they’d been given the alternative. as an alternative, their lives are made of sleepless nights, mounting debts, the pitying stares of “luckier” mom and dad, and perhaps worst of all, the what-ifs. What if their baby were born fit? yet it’s all worthy it simply because Willow is, humorous because it turns out, ideal. She’s shrewdpermanent as a whip, on her strategy to being as lovely as her mom, type, courageous, and for a five-year-old an unexpectedly deep resource of knowledge. Willow is Willow, in disease and in health.
Everything alterations, notwithstanding, after a sequence of occasions forces Charlotte and her husband to confront the main severe what-ifs of all. What if Charlotte had recognized past of Willow’s disease? What if issues might have been assorted? What if their cherished Willow had by no means been born? To do Willow justice, Charlotte needs to ask herself those questions and yet another. What constitutes a necessary life?
Emotionally riveting and profoundly relocating, Handle with Care is an unforgettable novel in regards to the fragility of existence and the lengths we'll visit safeguard it.
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Extra info for Handle with Care: A Novel
Sean It’s funny, isn’t it, how you can be 100 percent sure of your opinion on something until it happens to you. Like arresting someone—people who aren’t in law enforcement think it’s appalling to know that, even with probable cause, mistakes are made. If that’s the case, you unarrest the person and tell him you were just doing what you had to. Better that than take the risk of letting a criminal walk free, I’ve always said, and to hell with civil libertarians who wouldn’t know a perp if he spit in their faces.
When she straightened back up again, I kissed her. “Minty fresh,” I said. She laughed. “Did I miss something? ” In the mirror, our eyes met. I’ve always wondered whether she sees what I do when I look at her. Or for that matter, whether she notices the fact that my hair’s gotten thinner on the top. ” she asked. ” I followed her into the bedroom and watched as she dropped the towel and pulled on an oversize T-shirt to sleep in. —but that was another thing that I loved about your mother. Even after seven years, she still sort of ducked when she changed in front of me, as if I did not know every inch of her by heart.
The detective threw down his pen. ” “I did. ” The detective stood up. “Sean O’Keefe,” he said. ” By seven on Sunday morning, I was pacing in the waiting room of the police station, a free man, waiting for Charlotte to be released. The desk sergeant who let me out of the lockup shuffled beside me, uncomfortable. “I’m sure you understand,” he said. ” My jaw tightened. ” I had been told—professional courtesy—that Louie, the dispatcher at the Bankton PD who confirmed my claim to be an officer with the department, also told them you had a disease that caused your bones to break easily, but that DCF wouldn’t release Willow until they had confirmation from a medical professional.