She checked on Annie again before they went to bed, and she seemed no warmer, and in fact, she seemed a little less restless. She lay very still, breathing softly. Bess, the dog, lay near the foot of her bed, as she often did. And neither child, nor dog, stirred as Liz left the room and went back to her own bedroom.

“How is she?” John asked, as he slid into bed.

“She's fine,” Liz smiled. “I know. I worry too much. I can't help it.”

“It's part of why I love you. You take such good care of all of us. I don't know what I ever did to get so lucky.”

“Just smart I guess, to snap me up when I was fourteen.” She had never known or loved another man before or since. And in the thirty-two years since she'd known him, her love for him had grown to passion.

“You don't look much older than fourteen now, you know,” he said almost shyly, and pulled her gently onto the bed with him. She came easily to him, and he slowly unbuttoned her blouse, as she slid off the velvet skirt she'd worn for Christmas. “I love you, Liz,” he whispered into her neck, as she felt her desire for him mount, and his hands run smoothly over her naked shoulders to her waiting breasts and his lips came down on hers firmly.

They lay together for a long time, and then at last they slept, sated and pleased. Theirs was a life filled with the good things they had built and found over the years. Theirs was a love they both respected and cherished. And Liz was thinking about him as she drifted off to sleep in his arms. He held her close to him, as he lay just behind her, his arms tight around her waist, his knees just behind hers, her bottom cupped by his body, his face nestled in her fine blond hair, and they slept together peacefully until morning.

She checked on Annie again as soon as she woke up the next day. Liz was still wrapping her dressing gown around her as she tied it, and entered Annie's room, and saw her there, still sleeping. She didn't look sick, but as soon as Liz approached, she saw that she was deathly pale, and barely breathing. Liz's heart pounded suddenly as she shook her a little bit, and waited for her to stir, but there was only a soft groan, and she didn't wake to her mother's touch, not even when Liz shook her hard, and started to shout her name. Tommy heard her before John and came running in to see what had happened.

“What's wrong, Mom?” It was as though he had sensed something the moment he heard her. He still had his pajamas on, he looked half asleep and his hair was tousled.

“I don't know. Tell Dad to call Dr. Stone. I can't wake Annie up.” She was starting to cry as she said it. She put her face down next to her child's, and she could feel her breathing, but Annie was unconscious, and she could tell instantly that her fever had skyrocketed since the night before. Liz didn't even dare leave her long enough to get the thermometer in the bathroom. “Hurry!” she called after his retreating form, and then she tried sitting her up. She stirred a little this time, and there was a little muffled cry, but she didn't speak or open her eyes, or seem to wake at all. She seemed not to know what was happening around her, and Liz just sat there and held her, crying softly. “Please, baby …please wake up …come on … I love you …Annie, please …” She was crying when John hurried into the room a moment later, with Tommy right behind him.

“Walt said he'll be right over. What happened?” He looked frightened too, although he didn't like to admit to Liz that he was worried. And Tommy was crying softly just behind his father's shoulder.

“I don't know … I think she has an awful fever … I can't wake her up … oh God … oh John …please …” She was sobbing, clutching her little girl, holding her as she sat there, rocking her, but this time Annie didn't even moan. She lay lifeless in her mother's arms, while her whole family watched her.

“She'll be all right. Kids get things like this, and then two hours later, they're fine. You know that.” John tried to hide the fact that he was panicked.

“Don't tell me what I know. I know she's very sick, that's all I know,” Liz snapped nervously at her husband.

“Walt said he'd take her to the hospital if he had to.” But it was already obvious to all of them that he would. “Why don't you get dressed,” John suggested gently. “I'll watch her.”

“I'm not leaving her,” Liz said firmly. She laid Annie down on the bed again, and smoothed her hair, as Tommy watched his sister in terror. She looked almost dead she was so white, and unless you looked very carefully, you couldn't tell if she was breathing. It was hard to believe that she would wake up at any moment, giggling and laughing, and yet he wanted to believe that that could still happen.

“How did she get so sick so fast? She was fine last night,” Tommy said, looking shocked and confused.

“She was sick, but I thought it was nothing.” Liz glared suddenly at John, as though it was his fault that she hadn't asked the doctor to come the night before. It sickened her now to think that they had made love while Annie was slipping into unconsciousness in her bedroom. “I should have made Walt come last night.”

“You couldn't know she'd be like this' John reassured her, and she said nothing.

And then they heard him knocking at the door. John ran to open it and let the doctor in. It was bitter cold outside, and the promised storm had come. It was snowing, and the world outside looked as bleak as the one in Annie's bedroom.

“What happened?” the doctor was asking John as he strode quickly to her bedroom.

“I don't know. Liz says her fever has gone sky-high, and we can't seem to wake her up.” They were in the doorway by then, and barely acknowledging Liz or their son, he took two steps to Annie's bed, felt her, tried to move her head, and checked her pupils. He listened to her chest, and checked some of her reflexes in total silence, and then he turned and looked at them with a pained expression.

“I'd like to take her to the hospital and do a spinal tap on her, I think it's meningitis.”

Oh my God.” Liz wasn't sure what the implications of it were, but she was sure that was not good news, especially given the way Annie was looking. “Will she be all right?” Liz barely whispered the words as she clutched John's arm, and Tommy, crying in the doorway, watching the sister he adored, was momentarily forgotten. Liz could hear her heart pounding as she waited for the doctor's answer. He had been their friend for so long, he had even gone to school with them, but now he seemed like the enemy, as he assessed Annie's fate and told them.

“I don't know,” he said honestly “She's a very sick little girl. I'd like to get her into the hospital right away. Can one of you come with me?”

“We both will' John said firmly. “Just give us a second to get dressed. Tommy, you stay with the doctor and Annie.”

“I …Dad …” He was choking on his words, the tears coming faster than he could stop them. “I want to come too …I …have to be there …” John was about to argue with him, and then nodded. He understood. He knew what she meant to him, to all of them. They couldn't lose her.

“Go get dressed.” And then he turned to the doctor. “We'll be ready in a minute.”

In their bedroom, Liz was already pulling on her clothes. She had already put on her underwear and a bra, and she had put on her girdle and stockings. She stepped into an old skirt, a pair of boots, and pulled on a sweater, ran a comb through her hair, grabbed her bag and coat, and ran back to Annie's bedroom.

“How is she?” she asked breathlessly as she hurried into the room.

“No change,” the doctor said quietly. He had been checking her vital signs constantly. Her blood pressure was way down, her pulse was weak, and she was slipping even further into a coma. He wanted her in the hospital immediately, but he also knew only too well, that even in the hospital there was very little they could do for meningitis.

John appeared dressed haphazardly a moment later too, and Tommy appeared in his hockey uniform. It was the first thing that had fallen into his hands in his closet.

“Let's go' John said, scooping Annie up off the bed, as Liz wrapped her in two heavy blankets. The little head was so hot it almost felt like a lightbulb. It was dry and parched and her lips seemed faintly blue. They ran to the doctor's car and John got into the backseat holding Annie. Liz slipped in beside him, as Tommy got into the front seat next to the doctor. Annie stirred for a moment again then, but she never made another sound as they drove to the hospital, and the entire group was silent. Liz kept looking down at her, and smoothing the blond hair back from her face. She kissed her forehead once or twice, and the white heat of her child's head horrified her as her lips touched her.

John carried her into the emergency room, and the nurses were waiting for them. Walt had called before they left the house, and Liz stood next to Annie, holding her hand and shaking as they did the spinal tap. They had wanted her to leave the room, but she had refused to leave her daughter.

“I'm staying right here with her,” she said fiercely. The nurses exchanged a glance, and the doctor nodded.

And by the end of the afternoon, they knew for a fact what he had suspected. Annie had meningitis. Her fever had gone up still further by that afternoon. She had a hundred and six point nine, and none of their efforts to lower it had had any effect whatsoever. She lay in the hospital bed, in the children's - ward, with the curtain pulled around her, and her parents and brother watching her, and she moaned softly from time to time but she never woke or stirred. And when the doctor checked her, her neck was completely rigid. He knew she couldn't last for long unless the fever broke, or she regained consciousness, but there was nothing they could do to bring her back or battle the disease for her. It was all in the hands of the fates. She had come to them as a gift five and a half years before, and had brought them nothing but love and joy, and now they could do nothing to stop the gift from being taken from them, except pray and hope, and beg her not to leave them. But she seemed to hear nothing at all, as her mother stood next to her, and kissed her face, and stroked her blazing little hand. John and Tommy alternately held the other hand, and then left to walk in the hall and cry. None of them had ever felt as helpless. But it was Liz who refused to let go, or give up without a fight. She felt as though leaving her for a moment might lose the battle. She wasn't going to let her slip silently into the dark, she was going to cling to her, and hold on, and fight to keep her.

“We love you, baby … we all love you so much …Daddy, and Tommy, and I …you have to wake up …you have to open your eyes …come on, baby …come on … I know you can do it. You're going to be fine…. This is just a silly bug trying to make you sick and we won't let it, will we? …Come on, Annie …come on, baby …please….” She talked to her tirelessly for hours, and even late that afternoon, she refused to leave her. She finally accepted a chair, and sat down, still holding Annie's hand, and sometimes she sat silently, and sometimes she talked to her, and sometimes John had to leave because he couldn't bear it. By dinnertime, the nurses took Tommy away because he was so beside himself he couldn't take it anymore, watching his mother beg her to live, and his little sister whom he loved so much, still so lifeless. He could see what it was doing to his dad, and to his mom, and it was all too much for him. He just stood there and sobbed, and Liz didn't have the strength to comfort him too. She held him for a moment, and then the nurses led him away. Annie needed her too much. Liz couldn't leave her to go to Tommy. She would have to talk to him later.

He had been gone for about an hour, when Annie let out a little soft moan, and then her eyelashes seemed to flutter. For a minute it looked as though she might open her eyes, and then she didn't. Instead, she moaned again, but this time she gently squeezed her mother's hand, and then as though she'd simply been asleep all day, she opened her eyes and looked at her mommy.

“Annie?” Liz said in a whisper, totally stunned by what she was seeing. She signaled John to come closer to them. He had come back into the room and was standing near the door. “Hi, baby …Daddy and I are right here, and we love you so much.” Her father had reached her bedside by then, and each of them stood on one side of her pillow. She couldn't move her head toward either of them, but it was obvious that she could see them clearly. She looked sleepy, and she closed her eyes for an instant again, and then opened them slowly, and smiled.