I picked the rabbit up, laid it gently on the blanket, and sat down on the edge of the mattress.

I reached out and touched Chloe’s damp forehead with my fingertips.

Her skin was cool, like cold river water, and a thin film of sweat lined her hairline.

Chloe opened her eyes halfway, her small brown eyes unfocused in the dim light.

Her little fingers reached out and tugged gently at the hem of the floral quilt.

“Grandma,” she murmured, her tiny scrap of a voice barely audible.

Before I could answer, Victoria stepped out of the dark shadow of the open closet door.