Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8)(43)

“Jordan wanted you to bake cookies? When?” He’d died in August and it was unlikely that their mother would’ve been baking cookies on one of the hottest days of the summer.

Olivia threw Justine a puzzled look. “This morning.”

Justine froze. When she spoke, she kept her voice soft. “You couldn’t have talked to Jordan this morning, Mom.”

Olivia stared at her blankly and then, seemingly embarrassed, shook her head. “Of course it wasn’t this morning. I don’t know what I was thinking. Jordan can’t ask me to bake cookies, can he?”

“No, Mom, he can’t.” Alarmed, Justine studied her mother carefully. Her eyes were far too bright, and they glittered with fever.

“I’m so thirsty,” Olivia said. She picked up her cup and this time her hand shook uncontrollably. Tea splashed over the sides before the cup fell from her fingers and crashed to the table, spilling tea on the Christmas-themed place mats.

Leaping to her feet, Justine dashed to her mother’s side.

“What have I done?” Olivia cried. “Look at this mess!”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m getting you back to bed.”

Olivia regarded Justine with a confused expression, as if unsure where she was.

Supporting her mother, Justine managed to get her out of the kitchen and down the long hallway to the master bedroom. With one arm around her waist, she half carried, half dragged her to the bed.

Once Olivia was covered by the sheet, Justine felt her mother’s face and nearly gasped aloud at how hot she was to the touch. She located a temperature strip in the bathroom, then pressed it against Olivia’s forehead.

The reading nearly sent her into a panic. No one needed to tell her that with a temperature of a hundred and five degrees her mother was in a life-threatening situation.

“I’ll be fine, Justine,” Olivia insisted in a slurred voice. “Jack will be home soon.”

“I’m calling him right this minute!”

“No…don’t do that. No need. I’ll go back to sleep and…be fine.”

Rather than argue, Justine left her mother and rushed into the kitchen. She ignored the spilled tea as she scrambled to find Jack’s cell number. Ever organized, her mother had written it neatly in the telephone directory under Jack.

He didn’t answer for three rings.

It felt more like three years. When he did pick up, Justine burst out, “Something’s wrong with Mom. Her temperature’s a hundred and five…she’s talking to Jordan…. Jack, what should I do?”

To his credit, Jack didn’t ask any questions. “I’m on my way,” he said urgently. “I’ll get in touch with her oncologist right now. I’m close…I’ll be there in under ten minutes.”

Justine went back to check on her mother, only to find that Olivia appeared to be having entire conversations with Jordan now. She chuckled at something and murmured, “Oh, Jordan, you always made me laugh.”

“Mom, Mom.” Justine sat on the edge of the bed and took her mother’s hand. Her heart raced and she struggled to hold back the tears.

The sound of a speeding car reached her. Justine ran into the living room, praying frantically that it was Jack. Instead it was a teenage boy, driving recklessly in a souped-up vehicle without a muffler. She scanned the road for any sign of Jack.

In another five minutes, he was there. He banged the door open and dashed into the house, shouting for her.

“In here,” Justine cried.

Jack tore into the bedroom. Olivia gazed up at him as though she’d never seen him before.

“She’s out of her mind with fever,” Justine said, not even trying to hide her fear. “It’s high, Jack. Way too high.”

“Dr. Franklin said we’re to get her to the hospital.” He scooped Olivia into his arms, blankets and all, and started for the front door. By this point Olivia was too weak to protest.

Justine hurried along at his side, gathering up the dragging blanket. They got Olivia into the backseat of his car and drove straight to the hospital in Bremerton. Justine rode with her mother.

“He never grew up,” Olivia said, turning to Justine.

“Do you mean Jordan, Mom?”

She smiled and laid her head against the seat. “When he asked about the gingerbread cookies, he was thirteen. He still is…”

Justine clutched her mother’s hand, working hard to keep the emotion at bay. Jack went over the speed limit when he could, with the windows open so the cold December air blew into the car. It was his desperate attempt to bring down her fever. Olivia closed her eyes as the icy breeze touched her heated face. Justine shivered. She hadn’t bothered to grab her jacket or purse, and her teeth were beginning to chatter.

Once they arrived at the hospital, everything happened quickly. Her mother’s physician had phoned ahead and the hospital staff was waiting for them.

Justine and Jack sat in silence until Dr. Franklin, the oncologist, appeared. His face was grim. “I’m afraid Olivia has a massive infection at the site of her incision,” he said.

“How could this be?” Jack demanded. “We were so careful. We followed all the instructions to the letter.”

“We probably won’t ever know the exact cause. Our biggest concern at the moment is to get her temperature down. We’ll be starting her on antibiotics intravenously.”