Before Our Dawn| ongoing

forty-five

Chapitre quarante-cinq
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Klaus's persistent fever had plunged the household into distress. Yves, concerned for the little one's health, managed to secure the services of a village doctor to examine him. The doctor confirmed what they had feared – it was the flu, though not severe. With proper care, he assured them that Klaus would bounce back.

The small living room became a makeshift clinic as the doctor meticulously checked Klaus, who lay pale and listless on the sofa. Isra and Hans anxiously hovered nearby, hoping for some good news. The doctor, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, sensed their anxiety and took a moment to speak to them.

"I understand your worry, but young ones like Klaus often recover swiftly with the right care," he explained professionally. "Keep him hydrated, ensure he gets enough rest, and the fever should subside in a few days."

Relieved but still watchful, she nodded, her fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of hair. Hans, silent but attentive, gripped her other hand for support. The doctor continued with his examination, offering practical advice on how to make Klaus more comfortable.

As the appointment concluded and he packed his medical kit, he cast a comforting smile. "You're doing well by bringing me in early. He'll be back on his feet in no time."

The doctor departed. Isra and Hans settled on either side of the sofa, keeping a watchful eye on Klaus as he slept, holding onto the hope that their little one would soon overcome the bout of illness.

Celine emerged from the kitchen, her apron slightly askew, drying her hands on a dishrag. Her concerned gaze immediately fell upon the couple. "How did it go?" she inquired softly.

Isra looked up, offering a faint smile. "The doctor confirmed it's the flu, but he said Klaus should be okay with rest and fluids."

Hans added, "He advised us to keep an eye on his fever and ensure he's getting plenty of rest."

"Oh, that's a relief to hear. Klaus is a strong boy. He'll fight this off quickly."

She could only hope. Given that she had lost Sophie, her protectiveness over Klaus bordered on paranoia. There were times Hans could sense it too. For three days in a row, she often woke up in the middle of the night to check on him or to hold him. Hans tried to coax her into letting their son rest and regain his strength, but she refused to leave his side.

"Love, let him sleep. He's doing better."

Isra shook her head vehemently, cradling Klaus to her chest as she sat on the bed. "No, I have to make sure he's okay. That he's breathing. I'm worried."

Klaus' chest rose and fell rhythmically, and his fever had dropped later that night. "Isra, he's fine." Hans sat upright and shifted closer to them, peering at the baby over her shoulder. "He's sleeping. He's not fussing. We took good care of him today, so please put him down in his crib and let him heal."

"Hans..."

He took Klaus from her carefully, making sure not to wake him, and stood up to place him in his crib. He then covered him with his blanket and felt his forehead, ensuring that he wasn't burning up again. "See, he's fine, Isra." He whirled around and smiled at her before heading back to the bed. "Just give him a day or two and he'll be fully healed."

She wanted to believe him, but her doubts lingered.

"Come on, we have a long day tomorrow. Let's get some sleep."

They settled into bed again and Isra finally managed to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

She stirred in the early morning, greeted by the subtle warmth of sunlight filtering through the window. Hans had already risen, leaving his side of the bed cool and empty. Glancing toward the crib, she found Klaus still nestled in peaceful slumber. It dawned on her that Hans had likely headed to the house to resume the renovations. Meanwhile, a day of farm chores awaited her – milking the cows, gathering eggs, and tending to the horses.