The Baby Consultant. Anne Marie Winston
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she shrieked louder than ever. He paced around the table in his dining area so many times he was sure he’d worn a path. God, what could be wrong? He knew next to nothing about babies before Alexa. Now he knew almost next to nothing.
He wished he had Frannie’s expertise and years of experience. He’d bet Frannie would have Lex happy and gurgling in her usual good-natured way if she were here.
The thought barely registered in his brain before he knew what he was going to do.
He fumbled the phone book out of the drawer, found her number and punched buttons with his thumb.
One ring. Two rings. Oh, no, he’d forgotten it was the middle of the night. She was probably sleeping.
Or out on a date.
“Hello?”
He’d never felt a rush of relief so sweet. He didn’t know whether it was because he needed help or because he knew she wasn’t out with some other guy, and he didn’t much care. “Frannie? Hi, it’s me. Jack. I’m really sorry about the time. I forgot it was so late, but the thing is—”
“What on earth is wrong with that baby?” Her voice sounded alarmed.
“I don’t know,” he said, speaking loudly to be heard over the screaming. “I’ve tried everything I can think of. I thought maybe you could suggest something.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“Please. That would be great. If it’s not too much of an imposi—”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
On her end, the phone clicked off abruptly.
His knees felt weak and he sat down before he fell down. Lex was still screaming bloody murder, but now he could handle it. Frannie was coming.
Her van whipped into his driveway exactly eight minutes later. He knew because he was counting. How many traffic laws had she broken? Didn’t matter. He’d gladly pay every ticket she incurred.
“Let me look at her.” That was all the greeting she offered. He surrendered his screaming niece to another pair of arms and waited expectantly.
Frannie had barely touched Lex’s little body when she raised her head, and the look on her face scared him to death.
“What is it?”
“She’s burning up with fever. Jack, call your doctor right now. I’m going to put her in a cool bath and sponge her down until you talk to him.”
He scrambled for the phone again, listening as Frannie carried the screaming baby up to the bathroom. It occurred to him that she would need towels, but as the doctor’s answering service came on the line, he decided Frannie would find anything she needed.
Twenty minutes later they were on their way to the hospital.
The nurses in the emergency room steered Frannie to an exam room the minute they walked in. Frannie didn’t even hesitate as she carried the infant down the hall. A doctor walked toward him, explaining that he had spoken with Jack’s doctor and that he’d be examining Alexa.
He nodded. He was dying to be back there with them, but first he had to stop at the desk and give them his insurance information.
As soon as possible, he joined Frannie in the exam room. She stood against a wall, arms folded tightly over her chest, as a doctor and nurse bent over Alexa, who was shrieking and screaming on the table. Without speaking, he slipped an arm around her shoulders. Just that simple action was comforting. He didn’t feel so alone, or so terrified.
They had a diagnosis in under ten minutes. Alexa had whopping infections in both ears.
He felt like the lowest of the low as the doctor handed him a prescription. “We’ve given her a little medication to bring that fever down and knock out the pain. Once that takes effect and I’m satisfied the fever’s on its way out, you can take her home. Right now, you could go and have this filled. There’s an all-night pharmacy right across the street. Your wife can stay with the little one.”
He caught Frannie’s startled glance out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t even bother to correct the guy. If she really was his wife, they probably wouldn’t be here right now. She would have known Lex’s personality change wasn’t sheer contrariness, but a sign of illness. She would know about diaper rash and when to start solids, about shot schedules and growth curves and developmental delays... all the stuff he’d been reading about in the few spare moments he’d had since he became Alexa’s father by default.
If he were to marry again, not that he was considering the idea, Frannie would be the type of woman he’d choose, he thought as he waited for the pharmacist to fill the prescription. She loved Alexa, and she knew stuff about raising kids that he’d never even heard of. Their sex life would be fantastic. At the mere thought, his body went on full alert—and he did mean full alert, he thought ruefully, so that he had to turn hastily and examine the display of literature on the wall near the pharmacy. If he wasn’t careful, the lady pharmacist was liable to have him arrested as some kind of pervert who got off reading medical pamphlets.
So enough about what it would be like to sleep with Frannie every night. Even the idea of falling asleep with her snuggled close against him was appealing.
Forget it. Wanting to be close was what got you in trouble the last time, dope. Why would you want to set yourself up to get shot down again?
The answer was simple: he wouldn’t.
With prescription in hand, he jogged back across the street and into the emergency department. Seeing him, the girl at the desk smiled warmly and stood. “I think they’re ready to go.” She disappeared, and in a few minutes Frannie came out through the swinging doors from the E.R.’s interior, carrying Alexa.
He held up the bag to show Frannie he’d gotten the medicine, suddenly feeling incredibly weary. Alexa wasn’t screaming anymore, but the sound of her pained cry would haunt him for a long time. Why in the world hadn’t he realized she was hurting? It didn’t take a rocket scientist to be a parent, even a half-decent one. Which, no doubt, was what Frannie would say.
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