Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(63)

Then Megan coughed. It sounded like a seal barking.

“Well, you could use some help with that,” Mel said.

“Where’s Jack?” Denny asked. He put the bag of canned soup on the table next to the big box Jack had delivered.

“Out back, helping Frank with something,” Mel said.

“I’ll go see if he needs me,” Denny said, disappearing at once.

Becca stood, waiting, balanced on her crutches, while Mel checked Megan, listening to her chest, looking in her ears. A few moments passed, then Dr. Michaels poked his head into the living room. “I need you in here,” he said to Mel.

When Mel went into the bedroom, Megan noticed Becca and her little face lit up. “Mama said I probably wouldn’t see you again!”

“I still haven’t left,” she said, moving closer. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m mostly well,” she said. “But I think I gave it to the little boys. I tried not to!”

“Megan, you might have all caught it at the same time. You never know where germs come from.” She lowered herself carefully to the edge of the sofa. “You still have a cough.”

“If I’m Mary, I promise not to cough!”

“Hmm,” Becca said, thinking. “Mary was sitting outside in a stable. Chances are she had a cough. Or at least a sniffle. What do you think?”

“Maybe. Will you stay for the pageant?”

She shook her head. “I’m sure we’ll be on our way by then. We were planning to leave by tomorrow morning, but weather reports aren’t good. We might be stuck another day. But I’m planning on getting home by Christmas to be with my mom and dad.”

“You know what I wish?” Megan said. “I wish you lived here.”

Becca smiled and brushed the little girl’s hair back from her brow. “I’m so glad I got to meet you. I’m just visiting, but I’ll visit again. Promise.”

“I know, but…”

Mel came back into the room. She handed a couple of bottles to Becca. “Tylenol for fevers, cough syrup as directed.” Then she leaned down. “Megan, we’re going to take Jeffie and Stevie to the hospital for X-rays and medicine. Your mom is coming. Jeremy will be here with you and your dad. Probably the little boys will be back home tomorrow, the next day at the latest. They’re going to be fine—it’s for precaution. I don’t want them stuck out here, caught in the snowstorm if their fevers and congestion gets worse. You understand?”

Megan nodded, but her eyes were a little scared. Becca squeezed her hand.

“Everything is going to be fine. Jack and everyone will stay till they’re completely sure you have all the firewood and food you need, okay? And your mom will call you from the hospital to let you know the little boys are just fine. Okay?”

Again she nodded.

“Becca, hang out with the kids until Frank is briefed. Give him the medicine. Make sure these little ones are getting what they need. Tell him Jeremy has been dosed and should stay in bed. He gets more Tylenol and cough syrup in four hours. And try not to breathe the air if you can help it. No kissing sick kids, no matter how tempting!”

“Right,” Becca said, thinking that all she wanted to do was pull Megan onto her lap and cuddle her, reassure her.

Mel disappeared into the bedroom. In just seconds, Cameron Michaels came through the living room, carrying a child wrapped in a blanket. Right on his heels came Mel, also carrying a little boy. Behind them came Lorraine, her coat hanging open, carrying two doctors’ bags. She leaned down and kissed Megan’s forehead. “Tell Daddy I’ll call home as soon as we know what the chest X-rays say. Can you remember that?”

Megan nodded.

“It’s going to be just fine, Megan,” Lorraine said. “Dr. Michaels and Mel know exactly what to do.”

“I know….”

Becca watched Lorraine quickly race out the door, closing it.

She was filled with emotions she couldn’t quite label, but one of them was a fierce longing. She wanted to throw down the crutches and walk; she wanted to carry one of these children to safety.

She patted Megan’s hand. “I brought some soup. I’m going to warm it for you.”

Fifteen

Denny stood back and watched as Jack, up on a ladder at the Thicksons’ shed, dumped a pile of snow on top of Preacher’s head as Preacher was backing out of the same shed, his arms laden with firewood.

“Hey! Watch it!”

“Sorry, Preach.”

“Like the three stooges,” Frank Thickson muttered.

Preacher filled Denny’s arms with the firewood. “Here. Make yourself useful.”

“Gimme a load,” Frank said.

“Since we’re here and willing to help, why don’t you go back to the house and check on the family. We’ll bring your wood.”

“I don’t like being done for,” he said.

“Get over yourself,” Jack said from up on his ladder. And then he scooped another pile of snow on his cook’s head. He grinned. “Sorry, Preach.”

“Come down here and do wood!” Preacher commanded. “I’ll clean the roof!”

“That’s okay, buddy,” Jack said. “I got it.”

“You’re gonna get it!” the big man threatened.