I carried June upstairs to her nursery without taking off my wet winter coat, laid her gently on her back in the crib, and pulled the cellular cotton blanket up over her tiny chest.

She didn’t open her eyes, only letting out a faint, tired sigh as her head settled into the mattress.

Downstairs, the kitchen fluorescent lights hummed against the white ceiling.

Ethan sat at the wooden kitchen table with his leather messenger bag pulled tight against his ribs, his wool overcoat still buttoned up to his chin.

Rainwater dripped from the soles of his shoes onto the linoleum floor.

I walked over to the table, took the brown glass bottle of liquid amoxicillin out of my coat pocket, and set it right in front of him along with the yellow discharge papers from Dr.