AN: Mum's a nervous chef. When Ada had his appendix out she made enough food to last us a month. At least she's productive-when I'm worried I just panic.
But that was the problem. She was awake, somewhat, she just wasn't seeing him.
"I'm going to get your mother. Just...um...I'll be right back."
"I promise I'll be right back." She tried to grab his sleeve. "Don't go back to sleep."
He straightened his glasses and went downstairs.
"Yes, Ma'm. Um..." How to say this? "Kitty's...worse."
"What d'you mean, worse?"
"Make sure this doesn't boil over." She shoved the spoon into his hand and went upstairs. What was she making, anyway...soup. Huh.
Kitty hadn't been this sick before. Come to think of it, he didn't remember her ever being this sick before, even when she'd had the flu.
She wasn't going to die, was she?
He was stirring the soup when Mrs. Richardson came back down and took the spoon from him.
"Do you know anything about a diary?"
"I found one yesterday."
"Was there anything special about it?"
"No. She wanted me to give it back and I said I'd do it this morning."
"I don't like the doctor here." She seemed to have forgotten all about him. "But there's no one else to call...what are you still doing down here?"
"She's asking for you. Go on."
She hadn't moved, and she didn't react when he knocked on the doorframe.