Page 30 of The Problem Child (Emerson Pass Historicals 4)

Fiona washome by the time I went back downstairs. She’d been out all day teaching her piano students. By the worried expression, it was obvious she’d been filled in on the situation. Mama, Papa, and Theo were also there, talking quietly. They looked up expectantly when I approached.

“Anything?” Mama asked.

I sat down next to my brother. “She told me why she won’t eat.” I gave them the description as delicately as I could. “So, as you can imagine, she doesn’t want to eat and then be sick. It’s especially embarrassing for her when she’s at school.” I told them what she’d said about the other girls.

“Poor Addie,” Fiona said. “How awful for her. I had no idea.”

“She hasn’t said a word about any of it,” Mama said.

“Son, do you have any idea what could be ailing her?” Papa asked.

“No, I don’t. But my guess would be something environmental,” Theo said.

“Something around us?” I asked.

“That’s correct. Something she’s breathing or eating that’s making her sick. I’ll put a call in to some colleagues in the city and see if anyone has seen a patient with these same symptoms. I can’t think of anything from my textbooks, but I’ll go over them tonight. It can’t be in our water or food, or the rest of us would be sick too.”

“Unless it’s something that just Addie is bothered by,” Fiona said.

Theo nodded. “An allergic reaction of sorts.”

“Like Mrs. Cassidy and the mold,” I said. Last year, Theo had figured out that Mrs. Cassidy was being sickened by mold on a box of old letters. Since his diagnosis, she’d made a full recovery.

Theo had began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace. We all felt the urgency to find out what was making her sick now but perhaps no one more than the doctor of the family.

“There’s only one thing to do.” Mama brushed her skirts. “We must pray with all our might.”

“Yes, Mama,” Fiona said. “We will.”

“I’m going to sit with her,” Mama said.

“I’ll go with you.” Papa embraced Theo. “God’s by our side through this. The burden’s not yours alone.”

“I know, Papa.” Theo set his jaw the way he did when he was determined to do something. “I’ll figure this out if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

When the three of them were gone, Fiona sank into the big armchair. “Cym, I’m scared.”

“Me too.” I plopped down next to her. She tucked a throw blanket around our legs. We snuggled as we had when we were little and would read together by the fire. For a long time we remained thus, wrapped together for warmth and comfort. I don’t know if she prayed as hard as I but knowing my angelic Fiona, she probably did.