Emma turned her head on the stiff pillow, her dark brown hair falling over her forehead.

She stretched her small right hand across the mattress until her fingers found the left ear of Barnaby, her stuffed purple rabbit.

“Mommy?” she whispered, her voice weak and raspy.

“I’m right here, sweetie,” I said, leaning over the metal side rail to brush the hair off her forehead.

Emma hugged Barnaby tight against her yellow sundress.

Her green eyes looked huge in the dim light of the room.

“Am I in trouble, Mommy?” she asked.