The night had fallen.
Gem Atkinson sat on the sofa at the head of the bed, listening to the sound of water from the bathroom, feeling a softness in his heart.
In the bathroom, Forsythia Brown had adjusted the water temperature and was bathing Audrey. Because Audrey was happy, she occasionally hummed a nursery rhyme or two, her clear, childlike voice like the sound of heaven, bringing a sense of peace to Gem.
Soon after, the crisp voice of the little creature came, "Forsythia, can I really sleep with you?"
"Of course," the woman said.
Gem's face darkened, and upon recalling the afternoon's events, he touched his nose: Well, the wife is angry.
"Then I'll go get the storybook," the voice of the little creature came again.
"Umm, I meant I would come to sleep in your room with you."
"How can that be? Gem is sick and shouldn't be without someone by his side. It's better if I come to your room and sleep with both you and Gem."
