The fever came on fast.
One minute Nora was fine eating dinner, chattering about something Margaret had said that afternoon, swinging her legs under the table the way she always did.
The next she was quiet.
Julia noticed the quiet first. With Nora, quiet was always the warning sign. Noise was her natural state questions and observations and commentary on everything within eyeline. When it stopped, something was wrong.
She pressed the back of her hand to Nora's forehead.
Hot.
Not dramatically not the kind that sent you rushing for the car keys. But enough.
"Don't feel good," Nora said softly.
"I know baby." Julia lifted her from the chair. "Let's get you to bed."
She took her temperature. A hundred and two. High enough to take seriously, not high enough to panic. Julia had been
