She shadowed Mama on the slow walk to her bed, wanting to be reassured by the fact that she didn’t need help. She made herself smile as she slipped out with the promise to return momentarily. And then she tried to hide the shaking of her hands as she poked her head into the breakfast room.

Ivy hadn’t eaten more than a bite, and she stood the moment Lily appeared. “Well?”

“She says it’s just that canned fruit from last night that smelled a bit questionable.” She had a feeling her smile was unconvincing, though. “I’m going to stay with her. Daddy, will you drop a note by Charing Cross for me on your way in? And let Admiral Hall know?”

“Of course, my dear.”

She hurried out to find paper and a pen, scribbled a note for Ara, and left it on the entryway table for Daddy to grab on his way out. A basin then in hand, she returned to Mama, who had drifted into sleep in the five minutes Lily was away. Good. Rest was always a necessary ingredient of healing. Rest and prayer.

Making herself comfortable in Mama’s chair by the window, Lily picked up the Bible sitting on the side table and flipped to the page her mother had marked. Her eyes refused to focus on the words, but even feeling the weight of the book against her palms brought a measure of comfort. A small one, but a measure nonetheless. A reminder that He had been Lord long before she entered this world, and He would be Lord long after. That history would always march on, humanity living and dying, loving and losing, praising and cursing, but that He was unchanging.

Daddy slipped in a minute later, kissed Mama’s forehead and then Lily’s, and promised to let everyone know she wouldn’t be in today. He’d no sooner left than Ivy came in, a cup of tea and plate of toast in hand. “You still need to eat,” she whispered, sliding both offerings onto the table where the Bible had been.

Lily forced a smile. “Thanks.”

Her sister’s gaze rested on the bed. “I should stay too. I’ll send word to the school—”

“You said last night you were already down two teachers. They need you there.” She reached for Ivy’s hand and squeezed. “Go. I’ll send word if she gets worse, I promise. I know what to watch for.”

“More than I would. Even so.” Ivy let out a blustery breath, but then she pulled away. “All right, I’m going. And I’ll be praying all day.”

“I know.” Lily held her smile until Ivy left, and then she glanced again at the book in her hands. This time, familiar words came into focus for her. Psalm 56:3. A verse she had memorized ages ago. What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.