"Miss Sheila? Is that really you?"

Sheila turned, catching Henry's gaze.

For a moment, Henry forgot all about looking for his mother. Beaming, he scurried over to Sheila's side.

Sheila's brows knit together, her voice soft and apologetic. "Henry, last night over dinner, you mentioned not liking the school lunches. I wanted to make you something myself to take today, but... I think I messed up."

No sooner had she finished speaking than the acrid smell of burning filled the air then flames leapt up from the pan on the stove.

With a frightened gasp, Sheila dropped to the floor, curling into a tight ball.

Henry, alarmed, wrapped his arms around her and shouted, "Dad! There's a fire in the kitchen! Dad!"

As he tried to soothe her, he gently patted Sheila's back. "Miss Sheila, it's okay. Don't be scared."

Timothy hurried in, drawn by the commotion. Without missing a beat, he turned off the gas and clamped the lid onto the flaming pan. The fire sputtered out almost immediately.

But Sheila was still trembling, unable to move.

Concern shadowed Timothy's usually composed features.

He knelt down beside her and called, more gently this time, "Sheila."

lifted her head,

am I really

memory flashed across Timothy's mind-a fire,

Sheila had been

your fault. You shouldn't come into

gaze darkened as he looked at Henry. "Miss Sheila went through a fire once.

her voice urgent. "Timothy, it's not Henry's fault.

Sheila, you're so afraid of

want you eating

he hugged her tightly, his voice trembling. "Miss Sheila, you're too good to me. Please don't ever go into

Sheila to her feet, but her legs buckled. Without hesitation, he scooped her up

backpack. We're eating out this

yard, Mabel was sweeping up leaves. When she saw Timothy carrying

Timothy's sister-in-law. Now, she didn't

What would people think?

Mrs. Carter found out, it would break

the

opening the

isn't home. Why didn't

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