mother’s point. Lily chose to step up before her parents could intervene, a reflection of maternal strength as much as her mood. Dwelling on Calvin had heightened her nerves.
“Samuel, your grandmother and I worked hard to make this meal. Now, eat your supper.”
“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled. He was slouched in his seat, his gaze fixed on his fork.
Lily’s father reliably jumped in. “Aw, c’mon, Sammy. A clean plate or no dessert. Without you, I’ll have to gobble up the whole chocolate cake myself.”
“I’m not hungry.” His obstinate tone pushed Lily to the edge.
“Samuel Ray. I’ll remind you, there are a lot of people out there who’d be grateful for that food.”
And that was the truth. Every Friday night since Lily’s childhood, folks with pockets as empty as their bellies had gathered at the back door of the deli, where her father doled out leftover cheese, scraps of meat, and rolls gone stale. All of which he had undoubtedly hoarded with purpose.
“If you’re not going to sit up and behave yourself, you can go straight to bed.”
When Samuel slinked off without a fuss, Lily ignored her sense that something was off. Later, after the dishes were cleaned and dried, she went to him for a talk. She planned to reiterate the lesson but with a warmer approach. How could she blame him for lamenting the loss of their special date?
By then, he had cocooned himself in his bedding, and his breaths were heavy from sleep. “The boy must be growing,” her father reasoned the next morning. It was the most obvious explanation for Samuel’s rare grudge and lengthy doze.
Her father insisted they not wake him, even to trade goodbyes. Joining the owner of the local general store, Lily’s father periodically traveled to county and state fairs, this one an overnight trip, to purchase meat and other goods at bulk price.
Lily had agreed with her father and let Samuel sleep well past breakfast.
But as the hours dragged on, inching closer to her own departure, she pulled back the bedcovers and found Samuel’s hair soaked with sweat. A touch to his face nearly scorched her hand. This wasn’t a simple passing cold. Yes, she was always quick to worry, but she knew this was different.
And her mother appeared to know it too, despite her calm reporting of a nurse’s instructions over the phone. Today, same as yesterday, they were to watch and wait. The closest hospital was overcrowded and thirty miles away, and his ailment could pass with rest and an aspirin.
Maybe the nurse was right. She had to be. Even though Samuel had never before been this hot and for this length of time.
If only Dr. Mannis, the town doctor, could assure Lily it wasn’t a case of the flu or rubella or typhoid. Or any other merciless illness that killed children every day. His wife promised he would call the minute he returned from fishing. It took every ounce of Lily’s strength not to rail over the man’s negligence—this was Monday, for Pete’s sake!
Declaring him an enemy wasn’t going to help. But what would?
She scoured her mind as she held her son’s hand. It burned like heated coal, yet she held it to her cheek. Please, God, please don’t take him, she prayed, excruciatingly aware she had given up that right…
A knock broke through the thought. Her mother stood at the bedroom door, eyes red-rimmed in the afternoon light. She had shuttered the deli early. Neither of them had slept the night.
“Dear, your friends are here to help.” There was no trace of an opinion in her voice, only desperate hope.
This, from Lily’s mother, marked the scariest moment yet.
From the hall, Ellis entered the room. He greeted Lily and said, “You remember Mrs. Dillard…”
Lily expected a story to follow. Not for Geraldine to join them next.
A spate of confusion shot through Lily. “What…are you doing here?”
“Just came to lend a hand.” Geraldine stepped toward Samuel in an observant manner as Ellis expounded.
“Since your doctor’s been out, I called Dearborn. The director said she’d come help. I stopped to get her on the way, but two of her patients had…” He didn’t finish, the reason evident. “She just couldn’t leave. Geraldine, though, offered to come instead.”
“He’s burning up all right.” Geraldine was holding her inner wrist to Samuel’s temple. “How high’s it been?” Beneath her open coat, a full white apron suggested work as a caregiver. But how much experience did she really have?