Chapter 97

On the radio, the Florida Georgia Line was explaining about SunDaze. I bopped along like the country-music-loving swamp fiend that I was.

“Daddy?” Amelia said, appearing suddenly behind me.

“What?”

There was a note of worry in her voice.

“I think he’s sick,” she said.

“Really?”

“He doesn’t look right.”

I turned off the stove, wiped my hands on my apron, and hurried upstairs.

Tony had a fever.

A very high fever.

“Oh, shit,” I said, feeling something in my stomach take a nosedive.

Thus far, we’d been lucky. No colds, no flus, no serious illnesses. With his compromised immune system and constant regimen of pills, there was no telling where such things could lead.

Now that I thought about it, Tony had been looking rather poorly these past couple of days.

“You’d better wake your papa up, sweetie. And please hurry.”85: What’s Wrong?

“Wiley? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Tony, Mama,” I said, feeling my strength giving out.