Elissa, always attentive, rustled up some fruits and a small plate of beef stew for Brantley, who devoured them with the voracious appetite of a growing lad.
With a playful grin, the maid quipped, âBoys this age can eat a horse and still ask for dessert.â
Brantleyâs face flushed with embarrassment as he shot back, âNo way!â
Elissa chimed in gently, âSheâs just teasing, kiddo.â
Brantley felt a lump form in his throat, torn between tears and gratitude.
Though he felt embarrassed, a flicker of joy spurred him on, and he attacked his homework with newfound energy.
Elissa reviewed his work with a critical eye, her standards firmer than Raphaelâs.
Suddenly, the shrill ring of her phone shattered the quietude of the moment.
Brantley breathed a sigh of relief, his gaze fixed on Elissa as she conversed with Raphael, his ears straining to catch every wordâ¦
A persistent feeling of doubt gnawed at Brantleyâs confidence.
In a moment of tenderness, Elissa glanced at him before saying softly into the phone, âHeâs doing great.
And heâs eaten plenty.â
A faint chuckle echoed from the other end of the line.
Mindful of Brantleyâs presence, Elissa carefully navigated the conversation, steering clear of any hint of intimacy.
Once the call ended, her tone turned stern again.
âYou know better than to miss that question.â
Brantley gripped his pen, stealing a glance at Elissa before bowing his head to the task at hand.
He was incredibly well-behaved, hardly requiring any additional attention⦠But the underlying reason was rather disheartening.
Most well-behaved children harbored a constant sense of insecurity.
In the quiet of the night, the maid roused Elissa from her sleep.
âMrs.
Jones, Brantleyâs having a nightmare.
He keeps calling out for his mom.â
With sleep still clinging to her eyes, Elissa hastily donned a robe and hurried to Brantleyâs side.
There, in the dim light, Brantley tossed and turned, caught in the grips of unseen fears.
Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he whimpered for his mother.
Elissaâs gentle touch confirmed her suspicions: Brantley was burning with fever.
In a flurry of concern, the maid suggested, âShould we call Mr.
Jones?â
Elissaâs response was swift.
âHeâs just settled in Czanch.
We canât disturb him now! Letâs call the doctor, and if necessary, weâll hail a cab to the hospital right away.â
Elissa checked Brantleyâs temperature and gave him some medicine, but after thirty minutes, his fever persisted.
She felt his forehead, which was burning up.
Deciding it was best, she chose to take him to the hospital.
She softly caressed his cheek, gently called out his name, and quietly told him they needed to go to the hospital.
Although only half-conscious, Brantley made an effort to get up and dress himself, determined to walk down the stairs by himself.
Elissaâs heart ached seeing this.