--Maggie, pounding on Liam’s chest with both hands, over and over again. “No!” she screamed. “No! *No!”*
Béatrice rushed to Maggie’s side, trying to pull her back, but got an elbow to the chest as Maggie went back at it, shaking Liam furiously, tears streaming down her face.
“Madame Kelly, he’s not—”
“He is!” Maggie said, and then glared over her shoulder with the fury of a wronged god: “He’s not dying here.”
She slammed both fists down on Liam’s chest again, and this time, he convulsed, seizing upward as a long, desperate gasp filled his lungs with air. He collapsed back down again, limp but alive.
Béatrice said a quiet prayer as Maggie moved closer, feeling his cheek, his forehead, brushing the sweat from his brow.
“He’s still feverish,” she said, like what had just happened hadn’t really happened. “We need more snow.”