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“Charles.” She eventually calls my father’s name. “Get drinks.”
Her order down the stairs is said like she’s ordering a scotch instead of getting hydration for her severely ill granddaughter, who isn’t even talking right now. Her lack of urgency is disheartening. I get up and run downstairs myself, fetching a bottle of water and a gourmet ice pop from the freezer.
When I get upstairs, Luke is in the bathroom by himself, and my mother has disappeared. I hand him the supplies. He lifts Ainsley upright. She groans, upset to be woken up from her sick-induced sleep.
“Kiddo, you have to sit up and have some of this ice pop.” He watches me open the ice pop haphazardly. He smells it and asks, “Lychee?”
I shrug. “Lychee, coconut, and lime. There were no kid-friendly flavors there.”
Knowing this is the best option, he prods Ainsley to open her mouth. He wets her mouth with the cold sugar. She seems to like the sweetness and sucks on the pop some more before falling to his arms and curling up again.
My mother reappears with a towel and a plastic spray bottle. “Jillian, clean up the bedroom, will you? I can’t stand the smell. I’m gonna gag.”
I drop the towel and bottle on the floor and look back to Luke. “See if she’ll drink water.”
He gets her to take a sip and shakes his head in disappointment. “What did she eat tonight?”
“I already told you on the phone, she had nothing out of sorts.” Mother’s hands are held up in explanation as she looks down at Luke. “You look very familiar.”
“I’m Luke. Ainsley’s father.”
“Daddy, I want to go home,” she sobs as she takes another sip of water.
“This is the man who left you?” Mother gasps, and Ainsley looks up at Luke with urgency in her voice.
“You’re leaving? Can I come with you? I want to leave.” She pouts quietly.
“I know, kiddo. We’ll get you home as soon as you have something to drink. You threw up a lot.”
The water in her stomach must trigger something because she grips her stomach, rolls over in Luke’s arms, and vomits into the toilet.
“What did she eat tonight?” I ask incredulously.
“A lemon ice sorbet. That’s all.”
“There had to have been something else,” Luke bites out as he holds Ainsley’s hair back.
My mother seems exasperated at the inquisition. She tosses her hands up and looks at the ceiling with annoyance. “Fine. I had her try Nutella.”
“You know she can’t eat that.” My disgust radiates through my body. Ainsley’s intolerance to it is something we’ve discussed many times before.
Her hand rests on her hip. “Jillian, this dairy thing is very inconvenient, and frankly, it’s quite disruptive. She can’t grow up without eating dairy. That kind of dietary restriction is the kind of thing that burdens those around you. Frank Hollenford was telling me how some people can build a tolerance toward their food allergies by being exposed to them a little at a time. Tonight didn’t go as planned, but getting her to try some dairy is good for her.”
Steam, metaphorically, pours from my ears. “You can’t play God like that!”
“She’s lactose intolerant, not anaphylactic.” Her tone drops. “You’re very dramatic. It’s just vomit, which will pass.”
“You could have killed her,” Luke chimes in as he holds a wet cloth to Ainsley’s mouth.
“Says the man who wanted her dead to begin with.”
“Mother!” I’m beyond shocked and outraged by her lewd comment.
My blood runs cold, yet as revolted as I am by her comment, she looks at me with an air about her, as if my disdain is bothersome.
“Please, don’t act all self-righteous, Jillian. It’s unbecoming,” she says, and then she turns to Luke, who is on his knees with Ainsley. She looks down at him like he’s a wasp she’s ready to step on. “As for you, I heard the sordid details of your past. What kind of man abandons a woman who is having his child? And what kind of disease do you have that my daughter had to accompany you to Valor County Hospital?”
I take her by the elbow and escort her into the bedroom. “This is not for Ainsley to hear.”
