“I think we’ve passed the crisis point,” Megan said in tired triumph. “He’s still a sick little baby, but he’s holding down water, food, and medication. If the antibiotics don’t kill him now, I think he stands a chance.”
“I tried holding him and feeding him, and he only seemed to get worse. What did you do that was special?”
“I don’t know if it was special,” Megan said, “but I sang to him.”
“Sang?”
“Music hath charms, you know. But you’ll have to take over in that department now, my throat’s giving out. I’m out of practice, I’m afraid.”
“I… I don’t sing.”
“Nonsense. Everyone sings. Some just do it better than others.”
“I don’t know any good songs.”
“You mean to tell me you’ve lived, what, twenty-five years without learning any songs? I can’t believe that.”
Jade searched her memory
