Then she took a deep, long gurgling breath. The effort sounded painful, but she took in enough air to take another breath, and another, and then finally she was breathing normally—with a bit of a rasp, but getting enough air at least.

Still supporting her, I collapsed back onto the bed and laid her out on the mattress. She was limp, but breathing.

Agatha gave a shuddering sigh, and suddenly a whisper of air escaped her lips.

“What?” I asked, leaning over her. “What did you say?”

Her eyes struggled to stay open, then quickly lost their focus and rolled back in her head. She dropped out of consciousness without even a hint of struggle.

I looked at the floor. Gross. and it wasn’t my job to clean it . . . but I didn’t feel like involving Laura.

Was I scared of her? Maybe.

I spent a half hour cleaning up, then maneuvered Agatha back under the covers, gently wiping her unresponsive face before I finally switched off the light. I was beyond exhausted, myself, and as I dumped the dirty towels in the bathroom hamper—I’d worry about explaining that another time—fatigue washed over me. I washed my hands and splashed water on my face and wondered how I would make it back to bed before collapsing. But as I lay restlessly under the covers, I couldn’t stop thinking of how Agatha had looked, struggling for air.

I carried my pillow and Blue Bunny back out to the nursery. I peeled back the covers on the bed opposite Agatha’s and climbed under. If I pulled my pillow back a little, I could rest my head but still see the rise and fall of Agatha’s chest as she breathed. When I closed my eyes, I could hear her soft snoring.

Go.

Yes. It was time to go.

CHAPTER

26

THE NEXT MORNING, I felt strangely out of sync. Whether it was my own fear or Laura’s suspicion, something hung in the air between us.

I awoke to her small sniff of surprise when she came into the nursery to find me sleeping across from Agatha.

“Good morning, Margot . . . ?” she said. It was a question.

“Oh, hi.” My mouth was cottony. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “Agatha had kind of a rough night, so I thought I should stay close.”

Oh, crap. I hadn’t meant to tell the truth. Laura raised her eyebrows. “What kind of a rough night?”

“Uh . . . I think there’s a chance that maybe whatever the new medication dose is . . .” I felt like I might burst into flames under the intensity of Laura’s gaze. “Maybe it’s too high?”

She was politely interested. The way a cat shows polite interest in a mouse. “And what makes you say that?”

The obvious thing would be to explain the throwing up. But something nagged at me, and I dodged. “Just . . . bad dreams, maybe?”