She pressed both hands flat against her waist, her knuckles going white against her dark navy skirt.

She moved fast, stepping right between where I sat on the bed and Chloe’s little face.

“She needs complete quiet, Brenda,” Victoria whispered in a sharp, breathy voice.

“She’s in a cold sweat, Victoria,” I said, staying put on the edge of the bed.

“Her hairline is wet.”

“The doctor said noise and light will set off another bad panic attack,” Victoria whispered, reaching down to take hold of my elbow.

She steered me up off the mattress, her grip firm on my coat sleeve.