But threaded between the fear was something quieter, older. The ache of being needed again. When she finally stepped through the hospital doors, the antiseptic air hit her hard. Lisa was in the waiting area, pale and hollow-eyed, her fingers clenched around a damp tissue. “They’re in there,” Lisa said as soon as she saw her.
“The doctor thinks it’s a stomach infection, but he’s not sure yet. They’re giving them fluids.” Helen placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go.” Inside, the small hospital room hummed with the soft machinery of worry. Emma’s skin glistened with fever, her breathing shallow. Jake stirred weakly beside her.