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Inside the house, the three of us part ways in the foyer. I head to the laundry room with my load, Caroline takes off for her room, and Ashton goes to see about Sophie. I’m putting away the cleaning supplies a minute later when my sister’s voice echoes throughout the house. “Hurry, Will! Come quick!”
I drop the bucket and dash down the hall to Sophie’s room. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s burning up with fever,” my sister’s fearful expression sends a jolt up my spine.
Sophie’s face is flushed, and when I press the back of my hand to her forehead like I saw Ashton do earlier on the beach, my daughter’s skin is hot to the touch. “What do we do?”
“We need to get her to the emergency room right away,” Ashton says.
I gently pick up my daughter and cradle her in my arms. “Her little body is on fire. We need to hurry.”
My sister and I dash through the house, all thoughts eclipsed by the urgency of getting help for Sophie.
Ashton stops me in the driveway. “What about Caroline? Do you want to take her with us? Or do you want me to stay here with her?”
“I need you with me.” I notice Bob in his front yard and yell to him, “Hey, Bob! I need a favor. Sophie’s sick. I’m taking her to the emergency room. Can Caroline stay with you?”
He drops his rake and strides towards me. “Of course. We’ll feed her dinner. She can spend the night if necessary. Is there anything else I can do?”
“Say a prayer.”
“Sure thing, man. Let me know how it goes.”
“You drive,” I say to my sister and get in the back seat of her convertible with my daughter.
I coo encouraging words to Sophie during the drive, but she’s unresponsive, a limp rag doll in my arms. This is all my fault. My incompetence as a parent may have cost my daughter her life. I close my eyes and pray to God and Tracy and everyone who will listen to please save my child.
The hospital is only a few miles away, and Ashton makes it there in record time. The emergency room is crowded with patients who suffered injuries during their Labor Day festivities.
“My daughter is burning up with fever,” I tell the woman at the reception desk.
She takes one look at Sophie and summons an orderly with a gurney, who whisks Sophie away. I understand their concern when I see the isolation sign on the examining room door. They’re worried Sophie has contracted an infectious disease. I fully expect the doctor to appear in a hazmat suit, and I’m relieved when he shows up in blue scrubs with a white coat.
“I’m Dr. Mitchell,” he says, listening to Sophie’s chest with a stethoscope. “What symptoms does she have?”
My voice is tight as I explain, “She’s been throwing up with diarrhea most of the afternoon. When it finally stopped, I put her in the bed and went to clean up. When we checked on her a little while later, she was burning up with fever.”
The doctor shines a pin light in my daughter’s ears. “Has she had any liquids?”
“I tried to get her to drink some water, but she didn’t want any.”
“Did you call her pediatrician?”
“I . . . um . . . I figured it was the stomach flu and would eventually run its course.”
The doctor looks at me like I’m an idiot. “That’s usually the case for adults. But it doesn’t take much to dehydrate a child. Who is her pediatrician?”
When I shrug, the doctor looks over at Ashton. “Mom?”
“I’m not her mother. I’m her aunt.” Ashton places a hand on my back. “Will’s sister. The child’s mother died in early July. As you can imagine, this has been a difficult time for him and his girls.”
“Is it bad, Doctor?” I ask. “Is my daughter gonna die?”
The doctor softens a little. “I certainly hope not. We’ll get her started on some IV fluids and take some blood work to rule out the possibility of something more serious. But I think it’s probably rotavirus. We’ve had a lot of it lately.”
“Wouldn’t she have gotten a vaccination for that?” Ashton asks.
“Yes. But what’s been going around appears to be a new strain.”
