The Doctor's Secret Baby. Teresa Southwick

a cold.”

      “Fever?” he asked.

      “Yeah. A little bit.”

      “Do you want me to take a look at him?” Cal asked.

      “I thought you didn’t do that stuff. It’s not an emergency—” She glanced over her shoulder when someone behind her spoke. “You’re a doctor, right? A pediatrician?”

      “That’s what my diploma says. Does Henry have a pediatrician?”

      “Not a regular one. We take the kids to a clinic.” Again, there was a muffled voice before she opened the door wider. “But maybe it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a look at him.”

      Cal nodded and stepped inside on the beige carpet. From what he could see, this apartment was a carbon copy of Emily’s floor plan—living room, small kitchen with dinette and a hall with two bedrooms on each side of it. On one wall sat a re-covered sofa, not a professional job, but still a charming floral print. The coffee table looked like a do-it-yourself dark-stained plywood number, but complemented the rest of the decor. The walls were filled with photos of children and kid-friendly prints. Other than toys scattered around, the place was spotless.

      A blond girl about Lucy’s age stepped forward with a whimpering, sniffling, towheaded toddler in her arms. “I’m Patty. And this is Henry.”

      “Hi.”

      “Lucy said you’re a doctor.”

      “That’s right.”

      “Since you’re here…Would it be okay for you to take a quick look at him?” she asked, worry widening her big blue eyes. She should be at cheerleader practice and fretting about finals, not sharing an apartment with another teen mother.

      “Sure.”

      Another baby, Oscar, he remembered, was on a quilt beside the sofa with stuffed animals spread out around him. The little guy looked clean and well fed, what with the chubby arms and legs sticking out of his denim overalls.

      Cal walked over and said to the under-the-weather boy in her arms, “Hey, buddy. You’re not feeling so good?”

      The kid’s nasal discharge was clear, a positive indicator of no infection. Cal palpated his neck for enlarged lymph nodes or swelling and didn’t find anything abnormal. “He feels warm.”

      “I just took his temp,” Patty said. “It’s a hundred.”

      Cal nodded. “That’s not too bad. Do you have a flashlight?”

      Lucy looked more puzzled than hostile now. “What for?”

      “I’d like to look in his throat and I can see what’s going on better with a light.”

      “We have one in the kitchen,” Patty said, walking into the room and opening a drawer.

      “Set him on the counter for me, and let’s see if we can get him to open wide,” he directed. “How old is he?”

      “Eighteen months.”

      Patty did as directed and when Cal came close, Henry started to cry, which meant opening his mouth. Attaboy. He aimed the light and saw some mild redness, which was probably a result of postnasal drip. “I don’t have an otoscope—”

      “A what?” Lucy asked.

      “That’s the thing the doctor at the clinic uses to check their ears,” Patty answered.

      “Right,” Cal said. “Has he been pulling at them?”

      “No.” Patty held on to Henry’s arm with one hand and smoothed the hair off his forehead with the other. “He had one ear infection when he was six months old and I’ve been watching for that. But he’s just not acting like himself.”

      Cal didn’t have a stethoscope on him, either, so he pressed his ear to the boy’s chest and back, listening for any evidence of wheezing or labored breathing but breath sounds were normal.

      Patty grabbed the whimpering child when he held out his arms to her. “Is he okay?”

      “I think it’s just a cold.”

      “That’s what I said,” Lucy reminded him.

      “Is there some medicine he should take?” Patty asked, shooting her roommate a stand-down stare.

      “A children’s fever reducer will make him more comfortable. At this point an antibiotic won’t help because as far as I can tell it’s nothing more than a virus.” Which Henry had probably already shared with his pint-size roommate. “Is Oscar showing signs of not feeling well?”

      “Not yet,” Lucy said. “But I’m watching him. We’re trying to keep the kids separated as much as possible.”

      “That would be best. And be sure to wash your hands often.” Cal nodded. “As far as any other medications, they’re not indicated yet. If he takes unnecessary antibiotics, he’ll build up a tolerance and they won’t work when he really needs them.”

      “Okay.” Patty nodded. “Is there anything else I should do?”

      “Push fluids. Diluted soda. Juice. Popsicles. Water. Make sure his diapers are wet. That means he’s good and hydrated.”

      “I’ve been doing that,” Patty told him.

      “And if his fever goes up to a hundred and two, bring him to see me in the E.R. at Mercy Medical Center.”

      “As if,” Lucy said.

      “What?” he asked.

      “We can’t afford to go there,” Patty explained, looking apologetic. “No medical insurance. If either of them needs to go to the E.R. I’m not sure what we’d do.”

      “Emily will know,” Lucy said. “She always finds a way.”

      “I don’t know what we’d do without her,” Patty agreed.

      Both girls spoke about Emily Summers as if she had wings, a halo and walked on water. But he knew better. Angels didn’t lie about having a guy’s baby. Just because she’d told the truth about the lump didn’t mean he could forget about the months of his daughter’s life that she’d stolen from him.

      There was a knock on the door and Lucy went to answer it. “Hi, Em.”

      “Hey. How’s Henry?”

      “The doc says it’s probably just a cold,” the teen explained.

      “The doc?” Emily took one step inside holding Annie in her arms. “Cal?”

      “Hi.” He watched Annie babble something and squirm to get down, but her mom held her tight. That was a good thing since she shouldn’t get too close to Henry.

      “What are you doing here?” she asked him.

      “I was in the neighborhood,” he hedged.

      “Right.” Her tone clearly indicated she didn’t buy that for a second. Without moving any farther inside, she handed a small, white bag to Lucy. “I got the children’s’ Tylenol for you.”

      “Thanks.”

      “I hope Henry feels better soon,” she said, sending a sympathetic glance in his direction.

      “Me, too.” Patty handed him a sippy cup and he started drinking.

      “I need to get this little girl home,” Emily said, backing out of the apartment.

      Cal followed her, then looked back at the teens. “If you have any questions…”

      “Thanks, Doctor,” Patty said. “I really appreciate you looking at him.”

      “You’re welcome.”

      He followed Emily into her apartment next door. As she bent over