The Widow's Choice by Gilbert Morris

guided his brother to a chair and sat him down, bending over him anxiously. “I’d better go get Dr. Roberts.”
    “No,” Oscar wheezed, struggling for breath. His right hand went to his chest and he kneaded the flesh. “I’ll be all right. These things pass away.”
    “Don’t be foolish! Something’s wrong. It’s your heart again.”
    “All I need . . . is to be quiet. I’ll talk to Dr. Roberts later.” Jason stood there uncertainly. Oscar was a difficult man, but he himself was difficult. The two of them had always been different in appearance as well as in behavior. Oscar took after their father, inheriting his short stature and bulky muscles, along with his fiery temper. Jason’s mother, Karen,had been a tall, willowy woman with auburn hair and light blue eyes, which Jason had inherited. No one ever took them for brothers, for physically they had nothing in common.
    As Jason stood beside his half brother, waiting for the spell to pass, watching him carefully and ready to run for the doctor, he thought about how different they were on the inside. Jason was accustomed to thinking of his older half brother more as a father, for Oscar had raised him after Jason’s mother died. It had been a hard struggle, and Jason would always be grateful, for he would have been in an orphanage if it had not been for Oscar. But he himself was so different temperamentally. He naturally had a light spirit, whereas Oscar was a sober man, even gloomy at times. Jason had early shown a love for having fun, which Oscar had tried to suppress. This particular trait had caused Jason to get into many difficulties as a teenager, but Oscar had always been there, ready to take him back, although not without sermonizing.
    “I still think I’d better go get Dr. Roberts, or let me take you to his office if you won’t let me bring him here.”
    Oscar was breathing more easily now. “Just leave me alone for fifteen minutes.” He took a bottle of pills out of his desk and put one under his tongue. “I’ll be all right. These pills help a lot.”
    “You really should go home and get some rest.”
    “And who would take over here if I did? You certainly couldn’t do it.”
    “Fred’s a good man. He knows everything about the business.”
    But Oscar’s stubborn spirit showed in the set of his chin. He sat in his chair, taking deep breaths and still rubbing his chest. “It’s going away now. I’ll be all right.” He took a slow, deep breath. “You’re not any good around here, Jason, so I’ve got another task for you.”
    ****
    “Don’t try to talk. I can’t take your temperature if you won’t be quiet.”
    Zac Jennings had great difficulty staying quiet even long enough to get his temperature taken. And his occasional coughing spells didn’t help the situation either. He was propped up on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, as was Carl on the other end of the couch.
    Zac waited impatiently until his mother took the thermometer out of his mouth and then piped up at once. “Mom, Carl was makin’ faces at me while you were taking my temperature.”
    “Don’t look at him, then.”
    “I have to!” Zac responded.
    “No you don’t.” Alona looked at the thermometer and shook her head. “You’ve still got a fever. How do you feel?”
    “I feel rotten.” He started coughing.
    “Well, you’ll feel better tomorrow.”
    “You said that yesterday!” Zac snapped with irritation after he finally stopped coughing.
    Alona almost bit her tongue to keep from snapping back. “I’m going to go out and get some more wood. You boys can listen to the radio.”
    “I get to pick what we listen to!” Zac said at once. “I’m the sickest.”
    “No you ain’t! I’m the sickest!” Carl said.
    “You’ll have to take turns. It’s ten o’clock. You can pick the station for an hour, Zac.”
    “I want to be first,” Carl said.
    “You can be second. Every hour you can switch turns, but you’ve got to be still and get plenty of