CHAPTER 67
“How’s your daughter doing?”
I’m sitting in the cafeteria with Eliot. It’s been another long day, and it’s already past nine. Eliot just got off work, and we’re sharing a late dinner.
“I thought she was getting better, but it looks like she’s had some setbacks.”
He frowns. I can’t believe this put-together, handsome MD is Smelly Elly, the boy I tormented so badly back in Massachusetts. “What’s going on?” he asks with more compassion in his voice than I’ve heard from anyone other than Dr. Bell back in Orchard Grove.
“Well, she had something like a seizure last night. It stopped by the time they got her hooked up to the EEGs, but she was doing that foot pedaling thing and stuff. The doctors think it was from the fever.”
He nods. It’s nice talking to someone from a medical ba
