“Is that a good idea?” asked Linnea with trepidation.

Cara’s smile fell. “Why not?”

“I mean, you’ll be in close quarters with someone who might have the virus. That means you could be a carrier too.”

“Oh no, I don’t think so,” Cara said dismissively. “First of all, he probably doesn’t have the virus. This is precautionary. Second, I won’t have any contact with David. I even wear gloves when I bring him food and wash the dishes, collect his laundry. And I spray the house with disinfectant all the time. I order groceries in, so I won’t have exposure. It’ll be fine.”

Linnea had her doubts. If Cara felt that secure, why was she bringing Hope to her house at all? she wanted to argue. Cara was usually very level-headed and was obviously having a hard time with the separation.

“We’ll be fine, won’t we, Hope?” Linnea asked, turning to smile at the little girl. Hope glanced up and returned the smile before focusing again on her new doll. “Now, off you go. Deal with your patient.” She leaned in to kiss Cara’s cheek, then caught herself. “Oops, no! We don’t do that anymore.”

Cara shook her head with a sad smile. “We’ll get through this.”

“We always do.”

LINNEA GLANCED AT her watch, feeling the need for a glass of wine. Yep, it was almost 5 p.m. She was sitting on the living room floor across a game board from Hope, who was lying on her belly, ignoring the game, obviously as bored as she was. Next to them was a scattered pile of games that they’d already played. Lunch had been a disaster. Nothing Linnea prepared was like Hope’s mother’s—therefore rejected. Hope had settled for plain bread and butter and a glass of water. Linnea put her head in her palm. My God, I’m feeding the child bread and water!

The afternoon had gone smoothly enough. But now the games were done, they both were bored, and the dreaded dinner hour was approaching. Linnea wanted nothing more than for Cara to come by and pick up Hope. Babysitting was done, thank you! How was she going to manage ten to fourteen days?

“I think we’re done with the games for the day, don’t you? How about I make us some dinner?”

Hope didn’t look at her. She appeared dejected and tired as she started picking up the red, blue, green, and yellow game pieces. “I want to go home.”

“I know you do, honey. And you will. As soon as your daddy gets better.”

“I want to go home,” she said, this time louder with a tremor in her voice.

Linnea took a deep breath, then climbed to her feet. They needed a change of scenery, some fresh air, before the child had a meltdown. “Let’s go outside and take a walk,” she suggested in a cheery voice. “What do you say?”

Hope looked up at her, frowning. “No.”

“Come on,” she cajoled. She reached out her hand. “It’ll be fun.”