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“Of course. Almost every day. I’m telling you they were fine. You can ask Uncle Rob—my father’s twin brother. They were all there, and they were fine. You can ask him. He’s in London.”
“Can you give me his contact number?”
“I’ll do that.” Tony gripped Katie’s hand. “I’ve got all that, and I’ll give you whatever you need. But Katie needs to see her mom.”
Once the family members were gowned and gloved, Rachel did what she could to prepare them.
“Your mother’s being treated for dehydration. She’s running a high fever, and we’re working on bringing that down.” She paused outside the room with its glass wall, a fine-boned woman with what would have been an explosion of black curls had they not been clamped ruthlessly back. Fatigue dogged her deep chocolate eyes, but her tone remained brisk.
“The plastic curtaining is to protect against infections.”
All Katie could do was stare through the glass, through the film of the plastic inside the room, to the woman in the narrow hospital bed.
Like a husk of my mother, she thought.
“I just talked to her. I just talked to her.”
She gripped Tony’s hand, stepped inside.
Monitors beeped. Green squiggles and spikes ran across the screens. Some sort of fan hummed like a swarm of wasps. Over it all she heard her mother’s rasping breaths.
“Mom,” she said, but Angie didn’t stir. “Is she sedated?”
“No.”
Katie cleared her throat, spoke louder, clearer. “Mom, it’s Katie. Mom.”
Angie stirred, moaned. “Tired, so tired. Make the soup. Sick day, we’ll have a sick day. Mommy, I want my lambie jammies. Can’t go to school today.”
“Mom, it’s Katie.”
“Katie, Katie.” On the pillow, Angie’s head turned right, left, right, left. “Mommy says Katie, bar the door. Bar the door, Katie.” Angie’s eyes fluttered open, and her fever-bright gaze rolled around the room. “Don’t let it come in. Do you hear it, rustling in the bushes? Katie, bar the door!”
“Don’t worry, Mom. Don’t worry.”
“Do you see the crows? All the crows circling.”
That bright, blind gaze landed on Katie—and something Katie recognized as her mother came into it. “Katie. There’s my baby girl.”
“I’m here, Mom. Right here.”
“Dad and I aren’t feeling our best. We’re going to have chicken soup on trays in bed and watch TV.”
“That’s good.” Tears rushed into Katie’s throat, but she pushed the words through them. “You’ll feel better soon. I love you.”
“You have to hold my hand when we cross the street. It’s very important to look both ways.”
“I know.”
“Did you hear that!” Breath quickening, Angie dropped her voice to a whisper. “Something rustling in the bushes. Something’s watching.”
“Nothing’s there, Mom.”
“There is! I love you, Katie. I love you, Ian. My babies.”
“I love you, Mom,” Tony said, understanding she thought he was Katie’s brother. “I love you,” he repeated, because he did.
“We’ll have a picnic in the park later, but … No, no, storm’s coming. It’s coming with it. Red lightning, burns and bleeds. Run!” She shoved herself up. “Run!”
Angie dissolved into a violent coughing fit that sprayed sputum and phlegm on the curtain.
“Take her out!” Rachel ordered, pressing the button for the nurse.
“No! Mom!”
Over her protests, Tony dragged Katie from the room.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but you have to let them try to help her. Come on.” His hands shook as he helped her take off the gown. “We’re supposed to take all this off here, remember?”
He pulled off her gloves, his own, disposed of them as the nurse rushed into the room to assist.
“You have to sit down, Katie.”
“What’s wrong with her, Tony? She was talking crazy.”
“It must be the fever.” He steered her—he felt her shaking against him—back to the chairs. “They’ll get the fever down.”
“My father’s dead. He’s dead, and I can’t think about him. I have to think about her. But—”
“That’s right.” He kept his arm around her, drew her head to his shoulder, stroked her curly brown hair. “We have to think about her. Ian’s going to be here as soon as he can. He may even be on his way. He’s going to need us, too, especially if Abby and the kids can’t come with him, if he couldn’t find enough seats on a flight back.”
Just talk, Tony thought, just talk and keep Katie’s mind off whatever just happened inside that horrible plastic curtain. “Remember, he texted back he’d managed to book a hopper to Dublin, and got a direct from there. Remember? And he’s working on getting Abby and the kids on a flight out of London as soon as he can.”
“She thought you were Ian. She loves you, Tony.”
“I know that. It’s okay. I know that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Aw, come on, Katie.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’m having contractions.”
“Wait, what? How many?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know, but I’m having them. And I feel…”
When she swayed in the chair, he gathered her up. He stood—holding his wife and their babies, feeling the world fall apart under him—and called for help.
They admitted her and, after a tense hour, the contractions stopped. The ordeal following the nightmare, and the conclusion of hospital bed rest and observation, left them both exhausted.
“We’ll make a list of what you want, from home, and I’ll run and get it. I’ll stay right here tonight.”
“I can’t think straight.” Though her eyes felt gritty, Katie couldn’t close them.
He took her hand, covered it with kisses. “I’ll wing it. And you have to do what the doctor said. You have to rest.”
“I know, but … Tony, can you just go check? Can you go see how Mom’s doing? I don’t think I can rest until I know.”
“Okay, but no getting up and boogying around the room while I’m gone.”
She worked up a wan smile. “Solemn oath.”
He rose, leaned over, kissed her belly. “And you guys stay put. Kids.” He rolled his eyes at Katie. “Always in a hurry.”
When he stepped ou
t, he just leaned against the door, struggled against the gnawing need to break down. Katie was the tough one, he thought, the strong one. But now he had to be. So he would.
He made his way through the special care section—the place was a maze—found the doors to the waiting area, check-in, elevators. Tony suspected Katie would have to stay long enough for him to learn his way around.
As he stepped to the elevators, a slightly built, pretty black woman in a white lab coat and black Nikes stepped off.
His mind cleared. “Dr. Hopman.”
“Mr. Parsoni, how’s Katie?”
“It’s Tony, and she’s trying to rest. Everything’s good. No contractions for the last hour, and the babies are both fine. They want to keep her at least overnight, probably for a few days. She’s asking about her mom, so I was coming up to check.”
“Why don’t we sit down over here?”
He’d worked in his family’s sports equipment store since childhood—managed the main branch now. He knew how to read people.
“No.”
“I’m so sorry, Tony.” She took his arm, guided him to the chairs. “I told Dr. Gerson I’d come down, but I can have him paged, have him come talk to you.”
“No, I don’t know him, I don’t need that.” He dropped down, lowered his head into his hands. “What’s happening? I don’t understand what’s happening. Why did they die?”
“We’re running tests, looking for the nature of the infection. We believe they contracted it in Scotland, as your father-in-law had symptoms before he left. Katie said they stayed on a farm, in Dumfries?”
“Yeah, the family farm—a cousin’s farm. It’s a great place.”
“A cousin?”
“Yeah, Hugh, Hugh MacLeod. And Millie. God, I need to tell them. Tell Rob, tell Ian. What do I tell Katie?”
“Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thanks. What I could use is a good, stiff drink, but…” He had to be strong, he remembered, and wiped at his tears with the heels of his hands. “I’ll settle for a Coke.”
When he started to get up, Rachel put a hand on his arm. “I’ll get it. Regular?”
“Yeah.”
She walked over to the vending machines, dug out change. A farm, she thought. Pigs, chickens. A possible strain of swine or bird flu?
