Dance with the Doctor (15 page)

“Darcy!”

She opened one eye. Taylor stood by the side of the bed. “What is it, honey?” Darcy came more fully awake, both eyes open now. She pushed herself up on her elbows.

“I don’t feel good,” Taylor said, her face contorting.

Then she threw up on the bed.

Old skills long forgotten came rushing back. Darcy dodged the shower of vomit and within seconds she had a wet washrag and was cleaning a sobbing Taylor and escorting her back to bed. The child was burning up, but Darcy did her best not to show her concern. “Where does it hurt?” she asked, looking into Taylor’s eyes as she tucked her in.

“My stomach and my head and my chest, a little.”

“Your heart?” Darcy’s voice rose.

“Behind it. When I try to take a deep breath there’s a sharp tug.”

Sharp tugs in the chest were not in Darcy’s Mom repertoire. “Where does your dad keep the thermometer?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think we have one.”

“I’ll see if I can find it. You rest for a bit.”

Back in the master bedroom, Darcy set about cleaning up the mess, holding her breath and some how keeping from gagging. When the bed was stripped and the carpet scrubbed, she went in search of a thermometer.

The master bathroom was depressingly bare, with only a single unwrapped bar of soap and a package of toilet paper in the cabinet. Mike must carry his personal toiletries back and forth.

Taylor’s bathroom was more cluttered, with a bottle of strawberry shampoo and another of grape bubble bath, along with a pharmacy’s worth of medications.

Darcy’s hand froze in the act of pushing aside a tall bottle of antacid. Taylor had thrown up her lunchtime meds. Had they been in her system long enough to do any good? Did she need to take them over again? Where was Mike when she needed him?

She groped in the back of the shelf and brushed against what she thought at first was a mini hair dryer or travel iron. On closer inspection, it proved to be one of those fancy ear thermometers like those used in doctors’ offices.

Taylor lay on her side, sobbing quietly. “What is it, honey?” Darcy sat on the side of the bed and rubbed the girl’s back.

“I want Daddy!” Taylor moaned.

“He’ll be back soon. Just as soon as he can. Meanwhile, I’ll look after you. I need to take your temperature, okay?”

Taylor nodded and Darcy inserted the thermometer in her ear. A hundred and three. Very high. She tried to remember what Riley’s pediatrician had told her about fevers and children, but it was all a blur. She patted Taylor’s back. “I’ll see if I can find something in the kitchen to settle your stomach.”

A search of the refrigerator and cabinets yielded nothing helpful. Mike had stocked the pantry, but not with a sick child in mind. Darcy called his cell phone. “Hi, this is Dr. Mike Carter. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

She supposed the doctor was for the benefit of his answering service. She left a brief message and hung up. Maybe he was already on his way back, traveling through one of the areas where it was impossible to get a cell phone signal, or over an icy pass where it wasn’t safe to answer the phone.

“Darcy!” Taylor’s cry was weak but urgent.

Darcy raced back to the bedroom in time to see the child throw up again. “It’s all right, honey. I’m here.” She hurried to get another washrag, praying Mike would be back soon.

Fine
was a relative term when dealing with chronically ill children.
Fine
might be a lower temperature than usual or less pain than the child normally experienced.

His cell phone beeped, reminding him he had a message. He hit the voice mail button. “Mike, this is Darcy. I don’t want to worry you, but Taylor has come down with some kind of bug. She’s vomiting and has a fever of a hundred and three. I’m worried she might have thrown up her noon meds and I’m not sure what to do. I hope you’ll be back soon.”

He was already pulling on his coat by the time the message ended, punching in Darcy’s number with his thumb while he searched for his gloves.

“Mike?” She answered on the second ring.

“I just got your message. What’s up?”

“Mike, I’m so glad to hear from you. Are you on your way here?”

“I’m just leaving. What’s going on with Taylor?”

He listened to her list of symptoms. “It sounds like the stomach flu that’s been going around,” he said. “Nasty stuff, but it usually resolves within a couple of days.”

“Then you don’t think it’s serious?” He could hear her relief through the phone.

“You say she’s not keeping down her medication?”

“She’s not keeping down anything. The lunchtime doses were only in her for an hour before she threw up. Should I try to give her everything again?”

“No. Overdosing is as bad as underdosing in these cases. Just try to keep her quiet and I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

He hung up and finally found his gloves in his coat pocket. He put these on as he headed for the elevator.

“Dr. Carter, where are you going?” A young nurse—Daphne, he thought her name was—intercepted him near the elevators.

“I’m headed back to Breckenridge. My patient seems stable for now, but call me if you need anything.”

“But you can’t drive to Breckenridge,” Daphne said. “It’s a howling blizzard out there.”

The storm Friday hadn’t kept him from his daughter; he certainly wouldn’t let a little more snow keep them apart. “I’m a good snow driver,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I mean, you really can’t go. All the roads are closed.”

“They shut down I-70 again?” His shoulder muscles tensed as he thought of the torturous drive over three mountain passes on Highway 285.

“Yes. And they’ve closed 285 too. The news re ports I heard said there were wrecks everywhere.”

“The roads are closed,” he repeated, numb.

“Yes. The police are advising people against even traveling locally. We’re setting up all our empty rooms for personnel to spend the night here. I can see if there’s something available for you.”

“Do you know what the weather’s like in Breckenridge?” he asked.

“Oh, I think the high country’s getting lots of snow, too. The skiers are loving it.”

The skiers might love it, but what if Taylor took a turn for the worse and needed advanced medical care? Breckenridge had a small hospital, but what if an ambulance couldn’t get to her? Darcy had sounded pretty stressed on the phone just now. She didn’t have any experience looking after a child as sick as Taylor could get.

He was Taylor’s father. It was his responsibility to look after her. He’d have to find a way, if he had to commandeer a team of sled dogs to take him to her.

“Honey, you have to. It’s almost time to take your medicine again.”

“I don’t want to. I’ll just throw up again.” The girl pulled the covers over her head, like a small, burrowing animal retreating from a fox.

Darcy set the tray of tea and toast on the bedside table, fighting despair. If she were at home she’d try to tempt Taylor with Popsicles and cherry Jell-O, or ginger ale and saltines. But she had none of those things in this condo, and no idea where to get them, even if she dared leave Taylor and venture out in this blizzard.

She sat on the side of the bed and patted the Taylor-shaped lump under the blankets. “You have to take your medicine,” she said. “And you can’t do it on an empty stomach. If you have the toast and tea and take the pill that’s for your stomach first, then after a bit you can take the other pills and your stomach will be able to handle them.”

“No.”

“Taylor, please. Do this for me.”

Taylor’s head emerged from the covers. “Where’s Daddy?”

Darcy smoothed her hands over the blanket, determined not to betray her nervousness. “He’s stuck at the hospital in Denver. It’s snowing really hard and the roads are closed.”

“I want my daddy.” Taylor’s face crumpled and she began to sob.

Darcy pulled her close, blinking back her own tears. She wanted Mike here, too. He’d know how to get Taylor to eat. He’d have medication to settle her stomach and lower her temperature. Darcy felt helpless.

How long could Taylor go without the antirejection drugs before her body rebelled against the heart she hadn’t been born with? What were the signs of organ rejection? Darcy could call Mike and ask, but she hated to worry him further.

And she hated to hear more doubt in his voice. She was doubting herself enough for both of them. Was he thinking, as she was, that her best hadn’t saved her own child?

She forced back the guilt and tears. This was no time for self-pity. She made her voice stern. “You’re going to eat something and you’re going to take your medicine,” she said. “No more whining.”

“I’m not whining.” Taylor glared at her and sniffed.

“It sounds like whining to me.”

“I want to talk to Daddy.”

“After you eat and take your medicine, we’ll call him.” At least then she’d be able to report that much progress.

“You can’t keep me from calling my own father.”

“You can call him—after you eat.”

“Why are you being so mean?”

“Obviously because I’ve been waiting to get you alone to pick on you. Now come on, sit up. Your toast is getting cold.”

Taylor ate the toast and took the pills. Darcy felt a small surge of triumph. She felt even better when the girl didn’t throw up again right away. Apparently exhausted from the effort of arguing and eating, Taylor fell asleep before Darcy could call Mike. Darcy breathed a sigh of relief and prayed the worst was over.

The phone rang and she answered it on the first ring. “How is she?” Mike asked without preamble.

“I got her to eat some toast and take her medicines,” Darcy said. “She’s sleeping now.”

“I spoke with a doctor at the hospital there in Breckenridge. He said they can send an ambulance for her.”

“An ambulance?” Darcy’s heart pounded. “Is that really necessary?”

“It would be safest. They can administer antinausea drugs and IV fluids.”

“Oh. If you think that would be best…”

“Let me talk to her.”

Taylor was groggy, and slow to wake, but Darcy finally made her understand her father was on the phone. Darcy could hear Mike’s voice clearly as he spoke to his daughter.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Not so good. When are you coming back, Daddy?”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, but this storm has all the roads closed. I’ve got a doctor friend there in Breckenridge who’s going to look after you though. He’s sending an ambulance to take you to the hospital.”

“No! I don’t want to go to the hospital.” Taylor’s wail startled Darcy. The girl’s cries drowned out Mike’s reply.

“I want to stay here with Darcy. I don’t want to go to the hospital with a bunch of people I don’t know.” Taylor began to sob again, and handed the telephone to Darcy.

“You’ve got to persuade her to go to the hospital,” Mike said.

Darcy wanted Taylor in the hospital, where she’d receive expert care. But she was torn. She hated to see the girl so distressed. “She’s really upset,” Darcy said. “And she seems better now. She didn’t throw up after she ate, and she doesn’t feel as warm to me.” She hadn’t taken Taylor’s temperature in a couple of hours, but she would as soon as she got off the phone.

“I’d feel better if she was with medical professionals,” Mike said.

Darcy sighed. Of course she wasn’t qualified to look after Taylor, but did Mike have to be so sure of it? “You’re right,” she said softly.

“Then persuade Taylor to go to the hospital.”

Taylor sent Darcy a look, her big brown eyes brimming with tears. “I hate hospitals,” she moaned. “Please don’t make me go.”

How sick was she if she could argue so forcefully against going to the hospital? Darcy hated hospitals herself, with their antiseptic smells and constant activity. She’d often thought they were among the worst places to try to get well. “What if Taylor stays here with me and I promise to call the ambulance if she gets any sicker?” she asked.

In the silence that followed, she wondered if Mike was grinding his teeth. “All right. But I’m going to call in some meds and arrange for them to be delivered, and if anything changes, you call me.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hung up without saying goodbye. Darcy gripped the phone, swallowing her hurt. Of course he was concerned about Taylor, but wasn’t Darcy important to him at all? Did he have to be so brusque? She was doing the best she could, and it seemed to be working.

“Am I going to have to go to the hospital?” Taylor asked.

“No, honey. Not now, anyway.” Darcy plumped the pillows behind Taylor’s head and smoothed the sheets over her. “Your father is sending over some medication.” Though how the delivery driver would get to her in this storm, she had no idea. “As long as you don’t get any sicker, you can stay here with me, and your dad will join us as soon as he’s able.”

Taylor enveloped Darcy in a fierce hug. “I love you,” the girl said. “I want you to stay with me forever.”

“I love you, too.” Darcy returned the hug.

She sat with Taylor until the girl drifted back to sleep, then moved into the living room, where she watched snow fall in a white curtain past the window, trying hard not to think about Mike and all the things she wished he’d said.

She must have nodded off. A knock on the door startled her. Groggy, she shuffled across the room to answer it and confronted what might have been a mini abominable snowman, but on closer inspection turned out to be a woman bundled in layers of down and polyester. “I’m Renee Jorgenson,” the woman said as she stripped off gloves, goggles and hat and began unzipping a blue snowmobile suit. “I’m the nurse Dr. Carter hired to look after his daughter.”

Darcy stared as Renee peeled off more layers, until the nurse stood before her in stocking feet, ninety pounds of skin and bones in a pink sweater and jeans. “How did you get here?” Darcy asked.

“Snowmobile. I stopped at the pharmacy on the way over and picked up the prescriptions Dr. Carter ordered.” She lifted a backpack. “Where’s my patient?”

“In her bedroom. She’s sleeping now.”

“I’ll just take a look at her. Is it down this hall? No, you don’t have to come with me. You must be exhausted. Why don’t you get some sleep.”

Darcy stared after her, relieved that a professional had arrived, and disappointed that she herself was so inadequate for the job. She sank to the sofa, the knowledge taking all the strength out of her legs. As much as she loved Taylor—and…Mike, too—Taylor’s precarious health terrified her. The idea that Darcy might do something, even inadvertently, to endanger the girl was like an ax hanging over her relationship with Mike. Clearly he didn’t trust her with his daughter. Maybe she wasn’t qualified but she would never have done anything to endanger the girl. If Taylor had continued throwing up her medications or if her fever had risen Darcy would have been the first to call the hospital. Was it so wrong of her to wish the man had more faith in her than she had in herself?