Waite to handle. Whether the rest of the family had noticed or not, Mrs. Waite appeared to be growing weaker with each passing day. Thursday night, Mrs. Waite asked to speak with Sarah in her room. She had decided to go to bed just after the sun set that evening. Sarah knocked lightly on the door of the master bedroom. “Come in, Sarah,” Mrs. Waite murmured. She was lying propped on her side in the king sized bed. Her bare scalp shone from the candles flickering on the nightstand. The shadows playing across her face gave her eyes a sunken appearance. Sarah tried to look happy and carefree as she made her way to the bed, but she was never good at hiding her emotions. And right now she was afraid. She feared that the end was closer than anyone had imagined. She worried that Mrs. Waite might not even last the night. A lump formed in her throat as she tried to picture Brian’s reaction when the inevitable happened. I’ll be there for him, she vowed.
