Goodbye, Mr. Regret

How could someone catch such a bad chill and fall into a feverish coma in just a matter of moments?

Timothy frowned, his brows knitting together.

When Henry saw that his mother was just running a high fever and nothing worse,

the worry in his eyes faded. Compared to her, Sheila was in much graver

condition.

Jessica was wheeled into a hospital room.

Timothy followed, pausing outside the door to call Mabel.

"Could you bring over a change of clothes for Mrs. Wheeler? She'll need a full set -inside and out."

"Of course, sir."

He stepped quietly into the room and sat by the bedside, reaching out to feel Jessica's forehead.

Her fever had gone down a little, though she still looked terribly pale and weak.

Was she asleep, or had she simply not yet woken from her delirium?

He gently took her hand, his gaze falling to the bruises ringing her wrist. His heart clenched with guilt.

softly over the marks, and the furrow

on between

the kind of man he was. He barely spent time with

truth about Sheila once and for all. He was tired of the endless misunderstandings. It only made both of them

never tolerate another man hovering around her,

the blanket, then pulled out the necklace Herbert had given him from his jacket pocket. He

with him for Jessica was in for a rude awakening. The

"Dad?"

Henry entered, calling softly.

his lips, shushing him, and lowered his voice.

bed. It's just a fever, isn't it? Why was Dad acting

was bleeding

it all Mom's fault

up to her. Sheila had tried to apologize, tried to make nice when she heard Mom was

out of surgery. She's next door. Aren't

their voices would disturb Jessica, took

into the hallway, softly closing the door

latch clicked, Jessica opened her

for his father had already woken her. Timothy had only

her. The second he

rushed off to