Daddy in the Making

by Lyn Cote

  The fence post stood to her right. If she walked straight, she would go up the drive. What if she missed the house, invisible in the storm? Normally that thought would be ridiculous. Not today.

  She sidestepped once, twice, on and on to her right till the third fence post was right behind her. If she walked straight ahead now, she would hit some part of the house. She stiffened herself to do this.

  As much as possible in the driving wind and snow, she made herself put one foot in front of the other. The wind hit her from all sides. She breathed through her nose and bent almost double to protect her eyes, the only part of her exposed to the elements. Moving through the snow drifts was like swimming through thick mud.

  Then she stumbled and fell forward. She’d tripped on the first of the front steps. She moved along the step and found the railing. She crawled up the steps, over the porch to the front door. She dragged herself erect and then battled the wind to wrench open the snow-encrusted storm door. She banged the brass knocker on the door. “Jake! Jake!” she yelled.

  The door opened and she fell inside.

  “Jeannie?”

  Strong hands pulled her up. The door slammed behind her. Someone pulled away her sodden scarf and she looked up into Jake’s face.

  “Jeannie, what’s wrong? Why did you come?”

  Bummer was barking wildly.

  Her heart pounded. Her throat closed. She burst into tears.

  Jake trapped her cold face between his warm hands. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  “Mimi,” she gasped. “She’s much worse. I think it’s pneumonia. She’s having trouble breathing. High fever. Can your dad come? She needs a doctor.”

  Jake pulled her farther inside, calling to Bummer to be quiet. Before she could stop him, he dragged off her snow-coated jacket and hung it to drip by the door. Then he led her to the hearth where a healthy fire burned. She huddled by it, warming her numbed hands and feet. Mike, Bummer, and Jake hovered near her.

  “Jake.” She shivered, stuttering again. “Mimi’s really bad. She can hardly breathe. I have to go right back. Can your father go with me?”

  Jake nodded for her to look at the sofa. Dan lay there. He tried to sit up. “I’m not in much better shape, Jeannie.”

  He did look terrible, pale and shaky. She glanced up at Jake.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I passed out again, and my blood pressure is dangerously high,” Dan said, sounding disgusted. “If the weather weren’t so bad, Jake would have driven me to the E.R. this morning. The county roads are all closed, and we’ve been warned that not even ambulances are running.”

  “Earlier I intended to take the girls there, too. But I couldn’t even get them to the car. Snow drifts.”

  Jake motioned toward their bright yellow weather radio on the table beside Dan. “The storm is supposed to last through the night.”

  All her hopes had been here, getting help here. She sagged against the fireplace. “What can I do then? What if Mimi can’t breathe?”

  Jake put an arm around her. “I’ll come. But I’m a vet. I can’t prescribe drugs for or treat humans.” Bummer whined as if he knew something was very wrong.

  “Tell you what,” Mike said. “I parked my snowmobile in the barn the last time I used it. Use that and take Jeannie up behind you.”

  “That’s right,” Dan said, sounding encouraging. “I’ve got my cell. Jake, you can assess Mimi’s condition and call me with her symptoms. If she needs me, I’ll come. But you go first and see if she’s critical.”

  Jake opened his mouth and then closed it.

  “Jeannie,” Dan continued earnestly, “I’m taking it for granted that you know that a child with a cough or congestion is better in a cool, but not cold room, right?”

  Jeannie nodded. “Yes, I’ve got the wood stove keeping us warm. But Mimi is across the room, not near it. And I don’t have her all bundled up. I am a certified nursing assistant, but I can’t do more than I have. She’s got a bad fever and her breathing is labored. She’s spit up blood traces, too. I understand enough to know those are bad signs.”

  Dan looked more serious at this. Bummer woofed as if urging action.

  “Okay,” Dan urged Jake, “go. I know you don’t want to have anything to do with a snowmobile. But you remember how to use one. Look at Jeannie. You can’t think of making her trudge through a blizzard twice.”

  Jeannie hung on each word. Jake had to come. He must.

  “Just follow the fence line and you’ll be fine,” Mike said.

  “Call me when you get there,” Dan said. “Examine the child and tell me what you find. Mike, will you get him my stethoscope from my room. You can listen to her lungs for congestion. It’s the same sound in animals or humans. If she needs something, I have some meds in the emergency medical supply I always carry with me.”

  Jake hesitated.

  Dan made as if to stand. “Jake, if you won’t go, then I’ll have to—”

  Jake motioned for his dad to stay on the sofa. “I’m on it. Come on, Jeannie.”

  Her knees were jelly, but she managed to grip Jake’s elbow.

  “Get her something dry to wear,” Mike said.

  Jake led Jeannie through the dining room to the kitchen and the back hall. Bummer trailed after them. Jake handed her one of the extra jackets hanging there along with large mittens and a scarf. Her heartbeat thrumming, she struggled into the outerwear, her fingers and toes still numb.

  He quickly dressed himself in a one-piece black-and-white snowmobile suit that looked at bit short on him. “Mike’s,” he explained.

  Even though she wanted to get home, she grabbed his arm. Worry ratcheted her nerves tighter. “I’ve never ridden a snowmobile.”

  “Don’t worry. I remember how.”

  “But you haven’t ridden for a long time, right?”

  “Right. But it’s like riding a bicycle. I remember.” His tone was grim and Jeannie thought she knew why. But she couldn’t let anything interfere with taking care of her girls.

  Mike came to them and handed Jake a doubled plastic bag, wrapped tight around something narrow. “I put the stethoscope in this.”

  Jake nodded. “You go back and stay with Dad. I’ll call when I get there.”

  Mike squeezed Jake’s shoulder and turned back, holding onto Bummer’s collar so he couldn’t follow them.

  Jake paused and looked into Jeannie’s eyes. “I tied a line between the barn and the back of the house before the blizzard got up to speed. I put my outdoor dogs in the barn with the shelter animals. I needed to be able to get to them. So we can follow that.” He opened the door and led her out. Bummer bayed wildly against the wind. The snow surrounded them and shoved them against each other.

  She clung to Jake’s greater body mass as ballast. He wrapped his arm loosely around her shoulders, shielding her. Ahead, she could see glimpses of the tall red barn flicker between gales of snow.

  More and more she leaned into Jake’s embrace. Struggling in the wind, assaulted by the heavy wet snow, her strength lagged. She was panting now and sweating under her jacket while her face, feet and hands numbed again with cold.

  They reached the barn and Jake drew her inside. She bent forward, her hands braced against her knees, gasping for air. The dogs and cats greeted them loudly. Jake shouted to his dogs to be quiet.

  He patted her back and then swung a tarp off a snowmobile. He handed her a helmet and donned one himself. “It’s good we’re not going far. I only have one face mask. You hide behind me and keep your head low, okay?”

  “Right.” She’d never ridden a snowmobile, but she could hang on from here to Milwaukee if she had to. She could do whatever it took to get Mimi the help she needed.

  Straddling the machine, Jake walked it forward. He reached the door, leaned forward to open it and nosed the machine into the storm. He started the engine and then helped Jeannie straddle the rear seat.

  “Hang on tight!” he called over the wind as he
remounted the machine. She hugged his waist. They were off!

  Jake leaned his head low, seeking the protection of the windshield. He drove down his drive and when he saw the fence post and mailbox, turned sharply, heading toward the little house on the dead end.

  They rode at an angle, following the high side of the roadside drainage ditch. The machine ran rough. Jake glanced down at the gas gauge—only a quarter of a tank. He strained his eyes, keeping track of the fence posts, his only reference point in the white world around them.

  He slowed, knowing that the fence would turn soon. He didn’t want to, couldn’t overshoot the fence line. He located the last fence post and hung a left. Not far now. He hated to think of the girls alone in the little house. And of Jeannie braving the blizzard, alone and on foot, to get help.

  Again, the fence turned left. He swung wide around the corner, up the drive to the little house. He tucked the vehicle right inside the shelter of the lean-to where Mike usually kept it.

  Jeannie leaped off, shouldered by him, and rushed inside. “Cindy! Mimi! I’m back with Dr. Jake!”

  He turned off the motor and headed in after her. In the kitchen he stripped off his snowmobile suit and set his helmet on the counter. He hurried into the living room. Jeannie had shed her outerwear on her way to Mimi. She knelt beside the little girl.

  Jake ripped open the plastic bags to get the stethoscope. Murmuring soft soothing words to Mimi, he breathed on the metal instrument to warm it and then slid it under the back of her pajama top. “When I press the stethoscope on your skin, take a deep breath for me, okay?”

  “Do what he says, Mimi,” Jeannie coaxed, sitting on the other side of the child.

  Mimi tried to obey, but each time she inhaled, she began coughing. Jeannie murmured and stroked the little girl’s arm.

  The other twin hovered nearby, holding both kittens and looking near tears. “Is my sister going to be okay?”

  Jake persevered and listened to Mimi’s lungs. He slipped Jeannie’s thermometer under the girl’s tongue. And he frowned when finding she had a fever of just over one hundred and two degrees. Not dangerous, but not good. When he finished, he hoped to sound reassuring. But he couldn’t evade the truth.

  “How is she?” Jeannie asked.

  Jake rose. “I think she does have pneumonia. And—”

  Mimi began to shake, her teeth chattering. “Mom,” she moaned. “I’m so cooold.”

  Jeannie looked to him, her face drained of color.

  “She’s having chills, another symptom. I’m going to call my dad.”

  “Can I give her some more tea with honey?” Jeannie asked.

  “Yes, she needs liquids, and the honey will help soothe her throat and quiet her cough.”

  Jake flipped open his cell phone and speed-dialed his dad’s cell.

  His father picked up on the first ring. “What did you find?”

  “She has a fever of one hundred and two, chills and her lungs are congested.” Jake didn’t try to lower his voice. The girls needed to learn about illness, and Jeannie needed the facts.

  “Then you better come back and get me—”

  “Dad, I—”

  “Jake, I’m going to give her an antibiotic and an expectorant to break up the congestion. She might not have bacterial pneumonia, but we can’t get her to the hospital for a lab test. Even if she has viral pneumonia, an antibiotic will keep her from developing complications. Come and get me. I’ll be dressed and standing by the back door.” His dad hung up on him.

  Jake relayed this to Jeannie. Shrugging on the snowmobile suit in the kitchen, he looked back to see Jeannie and Cindy in the doorway watching him. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His stomach did a figure-eight lurch. His dad shouldn’t be out in this harsh weather. Suddenly how much he loved his father flooded him, nearly overflowing into tears. He stepped outside into the gale and swung his leg over the snowmobile. God, keep us. Keep Mimi and my dad safe. Lay Your healing hands upon them.

  Chapter Twelve

  His father was waiting for him just inside the back door. Hearing his master come in, Bummer bayed from the kitchen. Jake recognized the challenging glint in his dad’s eye. His dad had dressed warmly and had a muffler wrapped around his face. Through the weave of the muffler, Jake glimpsed a white mask over his mouth. Cold like this would dangerously stress his dad’s hearts and lungs. Dan climbed on back and Jake zoomed off, his nerves buzzing. I hope Mike’s gas gauge is accurate. God, get us there and back without any bad consequences.

  Memories of his mom and brother flashed in his mind as he navigated the storm-ravaged landscape. The half mile had never seemed as far before. At last, he turned up Jeannie’s drive and zipped into the lean-to. As Dan got off the machine, he staggered.

  Jake grabbed his arm and steadied him. Then he swung his leg off the machine and pushed his dad toward the kitchen door. Inside, they stripped off their outerwear. Cindy ran to them and threw her arms around Dan’s waist. “You came! Dr. Dan, my sister needs you.”

  Cindy dragged Jake’s dad by the hand into the living room. Jake followed them. Jeannie sat with her arm around Mimi, who reclined against her mom.

  “Dr. Dan,” Mimi whispered. Jeannie didn’t say a word aloud, but her eyes implored Dan for help.

  Jake moved to stand behind Jeannie to support her. Adrenaline had his heart on high idle.

  His father knelt by the sofa. He pressed his palm to Mimi’s forehead. “I’m going to give you some medicine that should make you feel better. First, though, we need to get some moisture in this air.”

  He looked up. “Jake, go out and get a heavy pan full of snow and put it on the wood stove. We’ll let it warm and put some moisture in the air. That will make it easier for this girl to breathe.”

  Dan rose. “Cindy, please stay with your sister. I have to break up this pill. It’s too big, too strong for a little girl.”

  Jake squeezed Jeannie’s shoulder and started for the kitchen to snag a bucket from the pantry.

  “Will the medicine taste bad?” Cindy asked, taking her sister’s hand. The kittens hovered close by.

  “I’ll mix it with a little jelly and then it shouldn’t be too bad,” Dan said, heading toward the kitchen. “Jeannie, I need a set of measuring spoons and Mimi’s favorite jelly.”

  Jake walked outside and returned with a bucket of fresh snow. Jeannie was handing his dad a jar of grape jelly.

  “Jeannie, do you have any acetaminophen in the house?” Dan asked.

  “Yes. I didn’t give it to her because I didn’t know if it would help her or make her condition worse.”

  “As a general rule, acetaminophen is safe for children as long as you follow the dosage. It’ll help lower her fever. Aspirin is what you want to avoid because of the possibility of Reye’s syndrome. So let’s give her the antibiotic and the fever reducer. She should be feeling a bit better soon.”

  He looked at Jake. “Get that pail on the wood stove. Moist air will help her breathing.”

  The three of them joined the twins in the living room. Jeannie coaxed Mimi to sit up straighter. She sat down beside her daughter again, letting the child lean against her. Too sick to object, Mimi took her two doses of medicine. Then Jake and his dad sat down across from Jeannie. Cindy climbed onto Jake’s lap and lay against him.

  Jake studied his father. He appeared spent, and Jake knew he’d crash soon from his own adrenaline high. Dan laid his head back and closed his eyes. Cindy closed hers, too, so Jake rose and carried her to bed and laid her down and covered her. “Will Mimi be all right?” Cindy asked in a scared little voice.

  “Yes, you can rest now. My dad won’t let anything bad happen to her.” Jake leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  Then he went to Dan. “Dad.” He shook his shoulder gently. “Come and lie down on Jeannie’s bed. You’ll be more comfortable.”

  Dan didn’t argue. He rose, and with a hand on Jake’s shoulder to steady himself, he followed his son into the bedroom. Jake p
ulled the covers up over the unmade bed and Dan lay down on Jeannie’s quilt. Jake found an afghan on the chair and spread it over his dad.

  “Jake, I’ve been carrying nitro tablets for a while. I’m going to finally take one.” His dad slipped a tablet from a small bottle and placed the pill under his tongue.

  Jake nodded his approval, relief nearly weakening his knees. “Get some rest, Dad. I’m going to stoke the fire.”

  Dan nodded and closed his eyes.

  Back in the small living room, Jake opened the wood stove door and set several new logs in and then shut the door. When he stood, he heard his father’s quiet whiffling snore.

  Jake staggered to the sofa, drowning in a sudden backwash of emotional exhaustion. “Jeannie, let me carry Mimi to bed.”

  She looked up. “I’m afraid to let go of her.”

  Her plaintive tone brought him to his knees. He knelt by her. “You don’t have to be afraid. My dad’s here. He’s given her medicine and he’s sleeping on your bed. If he thought she was in critical condition, he would never have left her side.”

  She nodded and stroked his cheek once. Then she moved Mimi toward him.

  Jake lifted Mimi and carried her to her bed and laid her down. Cindy was already napping. Maybe the constant sound of the wind and lashing snow had lulled her to sleep, too. Jeannie covered Mimi with a light blanket and knelt beside the bed, obviously praying.

  Jake gazed at Jeannie. With her hair mussed and her clothing rumpled, she had never looked more beautiful to him. Her true beauty lay in the way she bent to kiss Mimi’s forehead and the gentle way she patted the very sick child.

  “Jeannie, I’m in love with you.” Hearing his own words out loud shook him. But he’d only spoken the truth.

  She looked at him, her expression full of worry, and he took her hand and helped her up. Her face drawn, she led him from the room. She sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her. “Something bad has happened.” Her voice sounded oddly disconnected.

  His mind took him back to her preoccupation last night. Brooke’s dinner party seemed ages ago. He sank down beside her and lifted her hand to his lap where he cradled it between his. “Tell me.”