Shalma Hughes obediently took the bowl. She glanced at the large portion of ginger soup. Although her cold had robbed her of her sense of smell, she could easily imagine the taste. She had never been a picky eater, but ginger was the one thing she absolutely could not stomach. Sighing inwardly, she gritted her teeth and chugged the entire bowl in one breath.
The moment she finished, she hurriedly grabbed a tissue. She was terrified that if she couldn't suppress the rising nausea, she would throw it all back up.
Mrs. Lewis stood by, watching with an aching heart. "Mrs. Winslow, let's go to the hospital. I'll go tell the driver," she urged once more. With that, she turned to head out the door.
But Shalma called out, stopping Mrs. Lewis in her tracks. "Mrs. Lewis, come back. I don't really like hospitals, so I don't want to go. Let's wait a couple of days. If I'm still not feeling better by then, we'll go. Okay?"
