“I don’t want you.”

Rebecca knelt beside her. “That’s unfortunate, because I’m the adult who’s here.”

Lucy blinked at the blunt answer. Rebecca found a thermometer and fever medicine in the cabinet. The temperature was high enough to frighten her but not high enough for an emergency room.

She called the pediatric nurse line, followed every instruction, and laid a cool cloth on Lucy’s forehead. For hours she sat beside the child, talking about harmless things — the stray dog outside, the sound of rain starting against the windows, the terrible soup served at her childhood school.

Near dawn, the fever broke. Lucy reached through her sleep and wrapped her fingers around Rebecca’s wrist. Rebecca stayed on the floor, afraid to move.

That was how Matthew found them when he returned, standing in the doorway exhausted and covered in gray dust. His eyes moved from Lucy’s sleeping face to Rebecca’s hand beneath the child’s fingers.