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 between

going on between him and

thought Jessica understood the kind of man he was. He barely spent

set everything straight, explain the truth about Sheila once and for

tolerate another man

tucked her hand gently beneath the blanket, then pulled out the necklace Herbert had given him from his jacket pocket. He stared at it for a moment, then put it

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

"Dad?"

Henry entered, calling softly.

a finger to his lips, shushing him, and lowered his voice. "Keep it down. Don't wake your

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

bleeding badly-she was the

Mom's

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

She's next door. Aren't you

would disturb Jessica,

hallway, softly

latch clicked, Jessica

for his father had already woken her. Timothy had only pretended to be

her. The second

out, he rushed off to