* * *
I woke with a start. Something was wrong. I bolted upright and swung my legs to the floor, the space between my ears thudding with my heartbeat. The sound of a child’s cry pierced the silence. Theo. I must have heard it in my sleep.
The room was mostly dark, without even an ember in the fireplace to help. However, a sliver of moonshine made it possible to see objects in the room. I reached with my fingers over to the bedside table to find the matchbox and pulled one out, then struck it against the rough side of the table. It lit, thankfully, and I used it on the lantern.
The clock read just after midnight. I ran out to the hallway, my nightgown swirling about my legs. Toes numb from the cold floors, I rushed to the boys’ room. Theo thrashed around on his bed, moaning. A quick glance toward Flynn told me that he was sound asleep.
I went to the side of Theo’s bed. His eyes sprang open, wide and scared. Damp curls clung to his forehead. Sweat soaked the collar of his pajamas.
I placed my cool hand on his forehead. His fever was much hotter than it had been that afternoon.
“Miss Quinn. I don’t feel well.”
“I know, sweet prince.” I ran out of the room and down the hallway to Alexander’s room, then pounded on the door. “It’s Theo. He’s worse.”
Seconds later, Alexander appeared, wearing pajamas.
“He’s burning up,” I said.
We rushed to Theo’s bed. His ragged breathing and glazed eyes turned me cold with fear. “Alexander,” I said, more of a croak than words. “What do we do?”
Alexander picked him up, his face pinched with worry. “Let’s take him into the library.” We rushed down the stairs. I almost slipped in my socks but grabbed the railing just in time. In the library, Alexander placed the little boy on the settee.
“Let’s give him more aspirin,” Alexander said. “There’s some in my desk.”
I rushed over to the table where the liquor was kept and poured a glass of water. Alexander dumped a teaspoon into the glass, and I stirred to dissolve the powder. He lifted the boy against his chest and pressed the glass to his mouth. “Please, Theo, swallow. This will make you better.”
Theo’s eyes remained closed, but he opened his mouth like a baby bird and drank.
“We need cold compresses,” I said. “I’ll get them from the kitchen.”
As I ran out of the library and down the stairs, it occurred to me for the first time that I was wearing my dressing gown. My toes were completely numb and my breasts, for what they were, completely bare under the thin flannel fabric. This thing was nearly as old as I, too short, with a frayed hem.
Lizzie came out from the door that led to the bedrooms at the same time I entered in the kitchen. She was dressed in a thick robe and wool socks. “Is it Theo?” she asked.
“Yes. He’s taken a turn for the worse. How did you know?”
“I heard your footsteps on the stairs and figured.” Lizzie pulled two white cloths from a stack by the sink and ran them under cold water. “Take these up. I’ll make tea.”
I flew up the stairs. By the time I returned, Alexander had Theo out of his soaked pajamas and covered with just a light blanket. Theo shook so violently that his teeth chattered.
“He’s always been prone to terrible chest colds,” Alexander said. “He was small when he was born.”
I knelt on the floor next to them, my embarrassment over my attire long since forgotten, and placed the cold compress on his forehead. Theo groaned and shuddered.
I continued with the cold compresses against his forehead and chest, hoping it would cool him. The room was so cold, we could see our breath.
“How did you know he was sick?” Alexander asked.
“I heard him cry out.” I pushed aside his damp hair, which stuck to his flaming pink cheeks.
Lizzie came up with a sweater that she insisted I put on. She also brought a pot of regular tea. “Thank you, Lizzie,” I said, and squeezed her hand.
“Whatever I can do to help,” she said. “Call for me and I’ll come.”
For an hour, Alexander and I alternated between the cold compresses and medicinal tea. The aspirin seemed to have no effect, so we gave him a little more. Another hour passed with no improvement.
“Should we send for the doctor?” I asked as I dabbed a clean, dry cloth over his sweaty skin.