style="font-size:15px;"> The voice came to him—peaceful and soothing.
“Tina?”
“Fiona. I won’t leave you. Allow the medications to work on you. You’re doing fine. You’re safe,” she repeated.
Of course he was safe. It was Jill he’d left unguarded.
Fiona knew that tonight would be the crisis. Three nights had passed since her visitor had arrived. She had stayed with him ’round the clock except for short breaks to eat and bathe. When he was quiet, she managed to nap in the chair in his room. There were times when he would have lucid moments before falling back all too often into some nightmarish scene that haunted him.
She lost track of time. She measured her hours by bathing him with cool water to bring his fever down. Was his cough sounding less congested? Were his lungs taking in more air? She wasn’t certain. All she knew was that she couldn’t leave him to fight his battle alone.
His fever broke somewhere between four and five o’clock the morning of the fourth day, and Greg slipped into a deep, healing sleep.
Fiona was exhausted.
She forced herself to climb the stairs to her room, pulling herself up each step by hanging on to the handrail. With the last of her reserves, Fiona stumbled into her room, found her nightgown and dropped into bed.
She immediately slept.
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