Honor Bound(70)

"Oh, Gene, help him," she pleaded. "He's burning up. I think his fever has gone back up."

They all hurried toward the doors of the clinic, scrambling over each other in their haste. Aislinn carried Tony into an examining room. The clinic wasn't open for business yet, so there were no other patients vying for the doctor's attention.

Alice and Gene methodically went about examining the baby, kindly elbowing his hovering mother aside. Aislinn looked toward Lucas for reassurance, but he was staring down at the baby. He had said little on the trip into town. She wanted to offer him comfort, but knew that anything she said would sound like just what it was, an empty platitude. And how could she comfort him when she was so terrified herself?

Gene listened to Tony's chest through a stethoscope. When he lowered the earplugs he said, "He's got fluid in his lungs. That upper-respiratory infection has gotten much worse."

"But he was getting better," Aislinn protested. "I've been giving him his medicine faithfully."

"No one's blaming you, Aislinn," Gene said kindly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "These things happen."

"He … he got wet last night. And chilled." She told them about the storm. "When Lucas took us back to the house, I kept Tony covered up as well as I could. Is that why this happened?"

There was a trace of hysteria in her high, thin voice. Both Alice and Gene hastened to assure her that the infection could have spread in any event. "He wasn't on any antibiotics," Gene said. "And it certainly wasn't negligence on your part."

"Make him well."

Lucas, who had remained silent until then, spoke from the side of the examination table where he continued to stare down at his son as though Tony were the center star of the universe and the light was about to burn out.

"I don't think I can, Lucas."

"What!" Aislinn gasped. She clasped her hands together and raised them to her white lips.

"I can't do much here," Gene said. "My suggestion would be to take him to one of the hospitals in Phoenix. Get him to a natal intensive-care unit where specialists can treat him. I'm not properly equipped."

"But that's hours from here," Aislinn said frantically.

"A guy I went to med school with heads up a helicopter ambulance service. I'll go call him. Alice, give the baby a shot to bring down the fever."

Unable to shake off the paralysis of fear, Aislinn watched Alice prepare a syringe and give Tony an injection. When that was done, she rediapered him and handed him to his anxiety-ridden mother. Aislinn leaned against the examination table and rocked back and forth, comforting the baby as best she could.

Gene returned and informed them, "He's dispatching a chopper immediately. It'll set down in that pasture on the north side of the highway just outside town. The pilot he's sending was here last year to pickup a snakebite victim, so he knows the way. Aislinn, Lucas, there will be a pediatric nurse, in the helicopter and specialists standing by when you reach the hospital."

"Is he that critical?" Aislinn asked, her voice wavering.

Gene took her hands in his. "I wouldn't alarm you unnecessarily. Yes, he's that critical."

* * *

A few hours later, the specialist at the Phoenix hospital confirmed Gene's diagnosis. Those intervening hours had been a nightmare for Aislinn. Lucas and she had met the helicopter and were hustled aboard. From that moment on, she realized she would forever have a greater appreciation for people in medicine. The nurse on board the chopper began administering to Tony immediately; by radio, she was in constant contact with the doctors at the hospital, so that by the time they set down on the roof, Tony was already getting the best of medical treatment.

As soon as he was carried into areas of the hospital restricted to them, Aislinn turned to Lucas, seeking the strength of his embrace. But even though he folded his arms around her, it was a mechanical gesture. His heart wasn't in it. She could feel the spiritual distance between them, yawning as wide as a gulf. Since they had left their home that morning, she had felt him slipping further and further away from her.

His face was closed, as though he had removed himself from the tragedy. But Aislinn knew he was suffering terribly. How he could enforce such rigid control over his emotions, she didn't know. She felt that at any moment she would begin banging her head against the wall, stamping her feet, tearing out her hair.

They waited, sharing a silence that was intolerable to Aislinn. Where was the loving comfort Lucas had given to Joseph and Alice when the old man had lain dying? Why was there none for her now? But Joseph had been an old man. Lucas had had years to prepare himself for the day his grandfather would die.

She was relieved when the specialist approached them. "Mr. and Mrs. Greywolf?" he asked politely. They nodded. "Your little boy is very sick," he began. He delivered a spate of medical terms that meant nothing to Aislinn, but he finished with, "Pneumonia."

"Then it's not so bad, is it?" Aislinn cried in relief. "I've known many people who have had pneumonia. They recovered without any difficulty."

The doctor glanced worriedly at Lucas before looking back into Aislinn's expectant face. "The recovery rate for pneumonia is high, but we're talking about a three-month-old pair of lungs. I'm afraid that reduces your child's ability to throw it off quite so easily."