「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(279) This Feeling

Charles' POV

Pecking Lynn lightly on her temple, I left her to rest and proceeded to fetch her a moist towel. As I entered the bath, there was that similar sense of differences amidst the familiarities, but so subtle they were practically unobservable, just eliciting a mild feeling or bizarre uneasiness.

Quickly filling a basin with tepid water, I grabbed a small face napkin and delivered them to her bed side. I lifted the sheets slowly, intending to sponge her body, but instead of soft silk, my palm was welcomed by a fabric of rather brittle feel.

The same pastel pink night dress I donned onto her the night before was now mysteriously more crusty than before, as if her dreadfully high body temperature had somehow heated it to baking point, but the strange phenomenon paled in comparison to the importance of her fever.

Speedily but prudently, I swabbed her entire body, hoping to soothe her aches and alleviate her torture. As she was nicely cleaned, I laid a cool towel to her forehead and finally headed to wash up myself.

As I dapped my face dry, two eager knocks travelled distinctly from the main door and I scurried to answer it before the rambunctious banging could disturb Lynn's rest.

I carefully unbolted the entrance to Jean, supported by a pair of forearm crutches as she hovered her thickly bundled ankle off the floor. Tapping her fingers anxiously on her handles, Jean glanced up from the parquet, spontaneously pausing in all her little edgy motions when only my thighs met her eyes.

Immediately, Jean jerked her head up, blatantly scanning her eyes all over my standing frame through the small gap between the ajar doors. Her jaw dropped slightly, in incredibly reminiscent ways to Lynn's when she was utterly astonished, and I smiled, wholeheartedly.

"Morning, Jean," I greeted kindly and her jumpy eyes eventually locked with mine.

"Morning, Professor," Jean whispered with a sheepish smile.

"You really shouldn't be walking around. I don't want Scott to blame me when you become lame," I advised sincerely.

"Like husband, like wife," she joked in a casual tone, shrugging her shoulders, and we both chuckled, albeit only briefly.

"How is she?" Jean probed with a solemn expression.

Unmistakably, the smart and observant girl, though actually already matured into a wonderful lady, inferred from my unusual stance the stark severity of Lynn's indisposition, and attempted to peep behind me but the simple task was deemed more complicated in her maimed condition.

Widening the passageway, I gestured her in and Jean hobbled through anxiously. Her face wallowed in ostensible worry as she staggered over to Lynn and she paused near the foot of our bed, staring at me with an appalled expression.

"She's been running a fever since last night," I declared cheerlessly.

"I missed my alarm. She was still burning when I woke up but I already gave her another dose," I informed in a guilty tone as I crossed my arms exasperatedly.

"You never miss alarms," Jean refuted in bafflement.

"I know," I affirmed wistfully, sighing deeply.

"Is everything alright?" Jean probed, scrutinizing me with a suspicious face.

There was certainly no lie I wished to impose on the one who was essentially as dear as our own daughter but it was not anymore straightforward to discuss my concerns that seemed to be raised upon no logical bases.