"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."

her head, her eyes shimmering

am I

across Timothy's mind-a fire, seven years

had been

your fault. You shouldn't come into

as he looked at Henry. "Miss Sheila went through a fire once. She's afraid of it. You're not to ask her to cook

urgent. "Timothy, it's not Henry's fault. He never

Sheila, you're

I just didn't want you eating

voice trembling. "Miss Sheila, you're too good to me. Please

her legs buckled.

We're eating out this

was sweeping up leaves. When she saw Timothy carrying Sheila outside, her expression soured

yesterday, Sheila had insisted she was simply Timothy's sister-in-law. Now, she didn't

What would people think?

found out, it

open the

shuffled over reluctantly, opening the door with a

her coolly. "Mrs. Carter isn't home. Why didn't

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