The master suite had become a pediatric field hospital.
CJ lay sideways across the foot of the bed, groaning softly every few minutes for morale purposes. Bianca sat propped against the headboard, clutching her stainless-steel bowl with grim determination. Billie had dragged three extra blankets out of the closet and built a recovery nest.
Lightning flashed again outside, followed by bellowing thunder.
Billie turned her head to the windows. “The sky sounds angry.”
“The sky’s having a hard time,” CJ mumbled.
I sighed. “The sky’s not the only one.”
I sat heavily and pressed a hand over my face. This was terrible. Everybody was sick. The weather sounded apocalyptic. I hadn’t slept. There was vomit somewhere upstairs that I still hadn’t found.
And yet, underneath all the exhaustion and chaos and noise?—
I felt something painfully familiar.
The kids were all curled around me, half asleep. Miserable and dramatic, yes, but they were safe. I was providing that safety for them.
Bianca’s head tipped sideways onto my shoulder, and Billie had one tiny hand fisted into my shirt to make sure I stayed where she could reach me.
“Dad?” CJ murmured.
“Yeah?”
“If I don’t survive this… tell my story honestly.”
Billie lifted her head weakly from beneath the blankets. “Tell them he was brave.”
“I will.”
CJ nodded once, satisfied, then immediately grabbed the bucket again.
By six-thirty, the storm had fully settled over the house.
The rain kept up a relentless pounding against the windows, and the thunder never ceased, sometimes rolling so deep that that floor vibrated. Every now and then, the wind dragged branches along the siding with long, scraping sounds that would’ve terrified me when I was a kid. Lightning illuminated the room in intermittent bursts, so frequently that I was surprised we hadn’t lost power.
The kids looked more awful than the weather, if that was even possible.
CJ had entered the dramatic martyr stage of illness.
“This is how historical figures died,” he informed me weakly while staring at the ceiling.
“You have a stomach bug.”
“The decline of many legends began that way.”
I rubbed my eyes hard enough to see stars. Fatigue had settled into my bones. Every time I sat down, somebody needed water, reassurance, temperature checks, a fresh towel, or emotional support regarding vomiting etiquette.
I’d just convinced Bianca to sip electrolyte water when there was a knock at the front door.
All three kids looked up immediately.
Another knock.
“I’ll be right back,” I told them, standing carefully.
CJ lifted one hand weakly from beneath the blankets. “Don’t forget to tell them I was brave.”
