Jamie had tried putting his pillow over his head but, so far, that wasn't working. His older brother's coughing seemed to be getting worse, instead of better.
At first, it had been annoying.
Annoyance had long since slipped into a form of concern for his older brother. Jamie hated being sick and he somehow thought that Philip might hate it even more, being that they were away from home and their mother.
Finally, deciding that he wasn't going to get any sleep, Jamie slipped out of his bed as quietly as he could and grabbed his glasses. He was awake now and with no interruptions, he figured he might as well go out to the living area and read his book.
He hadn't planned on his dad being up.
"Jamie, what are you doing up?" Joe asked him.
Jamie took in the fact that his father was sitting on the couch nursing a hot beverage.
"Philip's coughing was keeping me awake. I figured I could read until I got sleepy."
"Oh," Joe said.
"You okay Dad?" Jamie asked.
"Yeah, I'm just a little congested and, like you, I couldn't sleep."
Jamie frowned. Somehow something told him that his dad was more than a little congested.
Joe King saw the look of concern flash across his youngest son's face and hurriedly spoke to reassure him.
"Don't worry, Jamie. You know how your mom likes to be prepared. I already took some of the cold medicine that she packed. I'll finish my tea, go back to bed, and in the morning we'll go fishing."
"What if Philip isn't feeling any better? He sounds horrible."
"Well, he took some medicine before he went to bed, so, with some sleep tonight, he should be better. You know how summer colds are, they hit you fast and they vanish just as quickly."
"Yeah," Jamie nodded, not sure if he believed his dad or not.
"Well," Joe stood up. "I finished my tea, so I'm going back to bed. Don't stay up too late reading. I don't want you falling asleep and having some monster of a fish dragging you into the lake."
"I won't," Jamie promised. "Goodnight Dad."
"Goodnight son."
Jamie watched his father head into the other bedroom and frowned. Maybe he was being childish and maybe even a little silly but something told him they weren't going fishing tomorrow.
He settled himself down onto the couch and pulled the afghan up over his legs. Then he opened up his book and tried to read. One paragraph later and he was suddenly wishing that his mother were there. She'd know what to do.