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.

and the furrow

going on between him

thought Jessica understood the kind of man he was. He barely spent time with women, and he'd never had any messy

and for all. He was

man hovering around

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

him for Jessica was in for a rude

"Dad?"

Henry entered, calling softly.

a finger to his lips, shushing him, and lowered his voice. "Keep

at the bed. It's just a fever, isn't it? Why

head wound had reopened and was bleeding badly-she was the one

Mom's fault

was family, but Mom had never warmed up to her. Sheila had tried to apologize, tried to make

next

their voices would disturb Jessica, took Henry by the hand

into the hallway, softly closing the

the latch clicked, Jessica

woken her. Timothy had only pretended

The second he he

out, he rushed