Near the flowerbed Maxine liked to dig in, dark clumps dotted the soil. “That’s new,” Mike said. Carrie followed his gaze. “Could she be allergic?” she asked. “That would explain the fevers.” It made sense. Too much sense. The kind of explanation that slides neatly into place and asks no further questions. Mike crouched, inspecting the gap. “I’ll fix it,” he said immediately.
He did it that weekend. Hammering boards back into place. Reinforcing the corner. Scrubbing the stones near the garden bed until his hands ached. Each nail driven felt like action. Control. Hope. For a moment, it worked. And then nothing changed. Maxine’s fevers returned by Wednesday. Then came the tea.