Miserably, she slumped down in the chair and gave vent to her tears. “Oh, Jace,” she wept. Unconsciously, she placed her hand over the breast which had so recently thrilled to the warmth of his touch. “I miss you,” she moaned before she lay her head on the table and sobbed.
She didn’t have the luxury of self-pity for long. Allison had been cross and fretful for the past two days. Her usually hearty appetite had waned. Her nose was stuffy, and, later that same day, she started coughing. As the day wore on, Katherine gave up trying to work. Her increasing anxiety over Allison’s health prevented her from thinking clearly or generating one cr
eative idea.
By late afternoon the baby was crying piteously and had developed a fever. Katherine paced the floor with her, trying to comfort her with pats on the back and soothing words. The congestion in her breathing passages became more pronounced, and the cough sounded harsher and deeper.
Unsuccessfully Katherine had tried to call Happy, and continued to notice that her car was still not parked in its usual place. When the telephone rang, she reached for it like a lifeline. Jace was calling to say he might be returning home late, but Katherine was so relived to hear his voice she forgot her pride and resolve to shut him out and quickly told him about the baby’s illness.
“Have you called the doctor?” Jace asked when she finished relating Allison’s symptoms.
“Yes. He said to give her liquid fever reducer, watch her closely, and call him if she gets any worse.”
“When was that?”
“Early this afternoon.”
“Well, I think I’d better call him and have him meet me there. Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said anxiously. “But, Jace, it’s just that she was so little when she was born, and her lungs—”
“I know, darling, I know. You sit tight, and I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
Katherine replaced the telephone receiver and felt a glow of love spread over her heart. Jace was coming to help her. Everything would be all right. Jace would be home soon. She whispered such to the crying, coughing Allison as she continued to pace with the infant or rock her in the wicker chair.
Allison became more agitated with each passing minute. Katherine’s anxiety turned into terror when the baby’s breathing became labored. She emitted a harsh, grating sound from deep in her throat. Her cough sounded like something out of a nightmare. Katherine was reminded of baying hounds.
She was frantic by the time she heard someone on the stairs and rushed to the door, flinging it open with the baby still clutched in her arms. Jace was running up the steps two at a time with Dr. Peterson, Allison’s pediatrician, in tow. Jace halted mid-stride when he saw Katherine’s wild eyes, but then leaped up the last few steps into the room.
He looked down at Allison as Katherine blubbered, “She can hardly breathe. Listen to her. She’s going to die. I know it. Her lungs—”
The doctor and Jace all but ignored her as they looked at Allison. Dr. Peterson heard the hard, wracking cough and said hurriedly, “Into the bathroom.”
Jace shoved Katherine toward the specified room. He seemed to know what to do, for he reached for the hot water tap in the bathtub before Dr. Peterson had time to follow them in and close the door behind him.
“What—” Katherine started, but Dr. Peterson interrupted with, “Do you have any Mentholatum, Vaporub, anything like that?”
Katherine nodded dumbly and pointed toward the medicine chest behind the mirror. The doctor grabbed a jar and started liberally spreading the pungent gel on Allison’s throat.
Meanwhile, the bathroom was becoming like a steam room with the hot water tap running full strength in the tub. Jace took a towel off a rack and held it under the faucet in the sink, soaking it in warm water. He rung all excess water out of it and placed it gently over the small chest.
“I should have known—” Katherine began apologizing for her own ignorance.
“Not if you’ve never had a child with croup before.” Dr. Peterson interrupted her again. “It’s one of the most alarming things to experience. It sounds a lot worse than it is.” His voice was reassuring, and Jace placed a supportive arm around Katherine’s shoulders. Unmindful of the schism between them, she leaned against his hard strength gratefully as the doctor replaced the warm, moist towel over Allison’s chest.
He continued his patient ministrations as the minutes ticked by. The three adults in the cramped space were dripping with perspiration when, finally, Allison coughed long and hard. Katherine reached for her, but Dr. Peterson put out a restraining arm. “This might be it,” he said.
A bubble of thick mucus sprouted from the baby’s nose at the same time she coughed chokingly and spat out what had given them all such grief.
“There we go,” the doctor cried cheerfully. He wiped Allison’s nose with a tissue and cleaned out her mouth with a gentle, probing finger.
Almost immediately Allison’s breathing returned to normal. She lay back sleepily and closed her eyes. For the first time in hours she wasn’t crying.
Jace restored the ravaged bathroom. Katherine hovered over Dr. Peterson as he carried Allison into her room. He laid the baby down gently in her crib and pulled out a stethoscope, placing it on the rising and falling chest.
When he straightened up, he said, “Just as I thought. Her lungs are clear. She’s probably had a viral cold for the past several days, and got a little clogged up. The harsh breathing and coughing came from her throat, not her lungs.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Peterson. I was so scared.”