"Why are you in such a daze? The fever didn't hurt your brain, did it?" Grace Winslow sighed. The little guy wasn't reacting at all, just staring at her with wide, curious eyes.
The doctor said the little one had been running a fever for at least three days and also had pneumonia. He was lucky to be alive. If he hadn't run into Grace Winslow, he likely would have died.
It was normal for him to seem dazed now. After all, it was reasonable for a two-year-old's reactions to be sluggish after having a fever for so many days.
Grace Winslow gently rubbed his head. "Alright, if you can't remember, don't worry about it. When you're feeling a bit better, I'll help you find your family."
"Just rest up here."
It was only nine o'clock when Irene Lynch arrived. She was worried Grace Winslow wouldn't know how to take care of a child alone, so she had brought plenty of supplies.
The moment she entered and saw the adorable, cherubic child, her heart instantly filled with affection.
