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 his brows

nothing going on between him

of marriage-he'd always thought Jessica understood the kind of man he was. He barely spent time with women, and he'd never

she woke up, he'd set everything straight, explain the truth about Sheila once and for all. He was tired

never tolerate another man hovering

Herbert had given him from his jacket pocket. He stared at it for a

for Jessica was in for a

"Dad?"

Henry entered, calling softly.

lips, shushing him, and

fever, isn't

had reopened and was bleeding badly-she

it all Mom's fault to begin

Mom had never warmed up to her. Sheila had tried to apologize, tried to make nice when she heard Mom was coming home,

next door.

Jessica, took Henry

softly

the latch clicked,

her. Timothy had only pretended to be

The second

was out, he rushed off to see her.