The sudden heat startled him.
Alarmed, Edwin noted the fevered flush on Markâs face.
His intention to call the servant halted as the door swung open.
Ceciliaâs voice echoed with concern.
âHowâs Edwin? Is Mark still here?â
As the servant stirred a pot of light yet nutritious soup, she chimed in, âThe boyâs fever broke.
Mr.
Evans has been by his side all night.
Last nightâs rain was fierce, and I noticed he had a cut on his forehead.
â
Cecilia hastened inside.
Edwin, though wan, looked rejuvenated.
Cecilia enveloped him, relief evident.
Eyes brimming with worry, Edwin whispered, âDadâs running a fever.
Heâs burning up.
â
Frozen, Cecilia processed the revelation.
Rushing to Markâs side, she noted his damp hair and the bathrobe he wore.
A mix of fear and concern, she laid her hand on his forehead, confirming Edwinâs claim.
The servant interjected, âHe braved the storm last night.
He mustâve caught something.
Itâs unfortunate.
Mr.
Evans has always been frail.
What ifâ¦â
Edwinâs face drained of color.
Trembling, he clung to Ceciliaâs leg.
Composure regained, Cecilia dialed 911.
âHarmony Apartment.
We need an ambulance.
â
Next, she reached out to Peter, urging him to alert Markâs physician to meet them at the hospital.
Having orchestrated the necessary steps, her strength waned.
With wobbly legs, she leaned against the bed, her touch lingering on Markâs heated brow.
Silent in his determination, Edwin fetched a towel, dabbing away the moisture from his fatherâs form.
His resolute actions weighed on Ceciliaâs heart.