Chapter 7: Fever

By Wednesday Eli's skin was burning and his teeth would not stop chattering.

He tried to get up for the six o'clock tray, and the floor tilted.

He tried again and sat down on the carpet with his back against the bed.

The door to Laurence's room opened.

"Sorrell?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm coming. I'll be right there."

"Stay where you are," Laurence said.

Laurence crossed the room in three strides and went down on one knee.

He put the back of his hand to Eli's forehead, and his face changed.

"You're on fire."

"It's nothing. I can still..."

"That's not a request," Laurence said.

He slid one arm behind Eli's back and the other under his knees and lifted him.

Eli had not been carried since he was six years old.

His head fell against Laurence's collarbone, and he smelled cedar and soap and cold air.

Laurence laid him on the bed, pulled the blankets up and stood looking down at him with both fists clenched.

"Stay."

He was gone for a minute.

When he came back he had a thermometer in his hand.

The housekeeper followed him in, a grey-haired woman carrying a tray.

"Mr. Laurence, I can sit with him if you've a class..."

"No."

The housekeeper tried again.

"I've nursed four children through the fever..."

"Nobody gives him orders but me," Laurence said. "Leave the tray. Go."

The housekeeper's eyebrows went up, then down.

She set the tray on the nightstand and left without a word.

"That was rude," Eli croaked.

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