Closed Windows
When Veronica got home from school she was surprised to discover her parents.
“Why aren’t you at work?”
“Your father and I have something difficult to discuss with you,” Mrs. Morgan said. Cadbury lay limp at her feet.
“But what about your patients? Shouldn’t you go back?”
“Veronica,” her father said, “Mary told us Cadbury hasn’t eaten for days.”
“He isn’t hungry. He is resting.”
Mr. and Mrs. Morgan looked at each other as though they had this all planned out.
“Honey, I know it’s hard. But it is time to start making arrangements,” her mother said.
For three weeks Veronica had worked day and night maintaining a positive attitude. She always gave him his medicine at the right time. She fed him with a spoon when he was having trouble eating. She cleaned out his water bowl two or three times a day. She researched about rosemary and lavender oils. She bathed him so carefully. She had tried as hard as a person could try to protect him. But she had obviously failed. And now her parents were asking her to abandon hope. She looked into Cadbury’s eyes but he didn’t see her.