Chapter 22 The Next Right Thing

• Maerilee
• I’m a broken shell of myself, held together only by Permiton’s gentle embrace. My mother, still lying pale and motionless on the bed, is slipping away. Her chest rises and falls so faintly that, at times, I can barely tell if she’s breathing. I squeeze her hand, willing her to hold on, to give me some sign that she can hear me, that she’s still fighting. But there’s nothing.
• Someone sends for my father while the four of us wait in the room.