Praise quickly went outside to call her brothers.
Within seconds they all rushed back into the house.
“What’s going on?” one of the boys asked.
“Your father is very sick,” I said.
They looked at each other nervously.
I went back into Richard’s room.
He was trying to sit up, but his body looked weak and tired.
“Ta-Rich,” I said firmly.
“We’re going to the clinic.”
He shook his head again.
“I’ll be fine,” he whispered.
But his breathing was heavy and uneven.
Every few seconds he would cough again.
This time the coughing sounded deeper, almost painful.
“You’re not fine,” I said.
Praise stepped closer to the bed.
“Dad… please go to the clinic,” she begged softly.
Richard looked at his children.
For a moment his eyes filled with tears.
He hated the idea of them seeing him lik
