“I really don’t mind watching her,” I say. “I’m a nurse. So this is totally in my comfort zone.” I can only hope Joe didn’t catch the tiny hitch in my voice as I said the words. I’ve beenalmosta nurse for so long, it still feels weird to drop the almost and just claim the job title.
“Oh, wow. That’s great then.” He crouches down in front of his daughter. “I won’t be far, okay? If you need me, I’ll be here in seconds.”
As soon as Joe is back in the dining room, I take up the spot he just left, crouching in front of the little girl. “What’s your name, sweetie?” I ask as I brush her hair off her face.
She licks dry lips, her eyelids fluttering closed. “Sabrina,” she says softly.
“Hi, Sabrina. My name’s Megan.”
She’s warm enough that I wish I had a thermometer to take her temperature. She definitely feels like she has a fever.
“Can you tell me what hurts?”
She winces, drawing her knees up to her belly. “My tummy,” she says.
“Do you think you ate something that didn’t sit right? Maybe too many Christmas cookies?”
She shakes her head no. “I haven’t eaten anything.” She frowns, her forehead creasing as she lets out a little whimper. “Ow, ow, ow.”
Suspicion nags at my brain as I look at her curled up form, at the tension in the set of her shoulders. “Sabrina, how long has your tummy hurt? Do you know? Did it hurt before you came to the party?”
“A little,” she says. “Mommy said I might just be hungry.”
“Does it hurt worse now than it did before?”
Sabrina nods.
I move closer and sit on the coffee table, debating my next steps.
It’s probably nothing. When kids have a stomachache, it usuallyisnothing.
But Sabrina’s pain seems severe. With the fever and her lack of appetite, it could be something more serious. Appendicitis, maybe. And if that’s what it is, Sabrina needs to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.
I reach out and put a tentative hand on her knee. “Hey, do you think you can lower your legs for me? Just long enough to point out where you’re hurting.”
At first, Sabrina shakes her head.
“If we’re really quick?” I say.
Slowly, she lowers her legs, letting out another whimper as she does. I move my hand to the lower right quadrant of her abdomen and lightly press against the outside of her party dress. “Right here?”
She nods, then cries, “I want my dad.”
I pull the blanket back over her. “Let me get him for you, okay?”
I hurry to the dining room and motion for Joe to get back to his daughter, then I make a beeline for Noah’s room.
I’m pretty sure it’s appendicitis. But I’m not technically a nurse yet—not until I pass my licensing exam. Can I really be sure enough to break up a reunion and send a family down the mountain to the hospital in Silver Creek?
Maybe—if I were the only one here.
But I’m not. And I’m guessing Noah has diagnosed appendicitis a lot more times than I have.
I knock on his door, heart hammering.
“Noah?” I call, knocking again when he doesn’t answer, this time with a little more urgency.
Finally, the door swings open. Andoh. Oh my.It’s like my earlier imaginings conjured him because Noah is standing in front of me very,veryshirtless. Sweatpants sitting low onhis hips. Bare chest. Shower damp hair. And the tattoo on his forearm—I can see the whole thing now since there’s no shirt to block my view. It’s a tree, branches and leaves growing up his arm and wrapping around his bicep.
