"Hello, Uncle."
It was Uncle Herbert.
"How is Aimy?"
"She's much better now."
"That's good," he said, relief evident in his voice. "And how are you?"
"I'm fine, Uncle. You don't need to worry."
There was a brief pause. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"You know you can always tell me if something is wrong."
"I know. And I will. For now, please tell Aunt Margaret and Aunt Veronica not to worry."
He sighed softly. "All right. I'll call again later."
"I know you will," I said with a quiet laugh.
He hung up the call.
When I turned around, Maria was already feeding Aimy. I returned to the couch and watched them quietly. Aimy's appetite was still poor, but the doctors had assured me it would improve with time. After only a few bites, she pursed her lips and declared that she was full.
Maria tried to coax her into eating more, but in the end we let her be. Even this was an improvement.
"I'll take the tray back," Maria said, rising from the bed.
"Can I go with Grandma?" Aimy asked.
