Chapter 24 Daisy - Preacher’s Kid
DAISY Preacher’s Kid
Mason and I had barely made it through his front door before we were totally tangled up in each other.
I knew I should probably take a step back and assess whether I was going to sleep with him because I’d had a terrible day and wanted to feel better—which, I mean, to be fair, was an okay reason—or because our relationship had progressed to that point.
I knew his reputation, and I didn’t want this man to be a one-night stand.
I felt things for him that I knew I hadn’t felt in a long time.
And, right now, what I felt, as I was unbuttoning his shirt, was that I wanted his skin on my skin.
That was about the only reasoning I was capable of.
As I pulled the shirt off his shoulders, my face in his neck, I said, “You smell so good.” He pulled the bag in his hand up. “Is it me or the cheesesteaks?”
He set the bag on the counter and scooped me up fireman-carry style, and I just could not have been any more taken with him. He laid me down on his bed and, as I reached for him, he stopped and, staring at me, said, “Daisy, you are so beautiful. I am the luckiest man in the world tonight.”
It was kind of a line, but he said it with such sincerity that I believed him.
I finished shimmying his shirt off, putting my hands on those flat, tight abs that women say we don’t care about until we experience them in real life and then they are all.
We. Can. Think. About. I pulled him down onto me and kissed him, every cell in my body tingling and feeling more alive from the proximity of him.
As he was pulling my dress up, there was a knock at the door.
I pulled back and looked up at him. “It’s fine,” he whispered. “I’m sure they’ll go away.”
He leaned down and kissed me again. Another bang on the door followed by, “Coach! You there? It’s an emergency.”
My eyes widened, and, okay, yes, a wave of disappointment washed over me.
“Shit,” he said, pulling his shirt on. “I’m so sorry.”
Not as sorry as I am.
I heard the door open as I arranged myself. One should not have the inconvenience of sex hair without the joy of the sex itself. I was taking my time primping until I heard Mason call, “Daisy!”
He sounded frantic. I ran out and spotted Drew, his star pitcher, with a girl I did not know, who was shivering on the couch.
I rushed to her and, instinctively, put my hand to her forehead. “Sweetheart,” I said, “you’re burning up. What is going on?”
“My stomach,” she managed, clutching her abdomen and curling up in the fetal position.
“Mason, do you have a thermometer?” I asked. I didn’t really need one. I knew she was dangerously febrile. “Drew, get us a glass of water, please.” I just needed a moment alone with her.
“When did this start?”
“A few days ago,” she said.
“Are you having any bleeding?” I asked.
She nodded tearfully. “A lot.”
As Mason and Drew returned, I started to put some pieces together that I really didn’t want to. “What’s your name?” I whispered as I lifted the thermometer to her forehead.
“Sarah,” she said.
The thermometer beeped, and my heart thumped.
As I predicted, her temperature was over 103.
“Sweetheart,” I said, “we’ve got to get you to the hospital.
” I was staying as calm as I could manage, but I knew enough to know that time was of the essence here.
We were dealing with what was rapidly becoming a life-threatening infection.
“No,” she wailed, shaking her head. “I can’t go to the hospital.”
“Why can’t you go to the hospital, Sarah?” Mason asked, kneeling down beside her.
“I don’t want my parents to know I’m sick.”
Mason put a hand on Sarah’s. “Daisy met your mom, Ms. Theodora. Daisy, don’t you agree that she would want her sick daughter to go to the hospital?”
“She can’t know!” Sarah protested.
“Sarah, you’re being crazy,” Drew said. “Your parents would want you to go to the hospital!”
Drew looked at me pleadingly, adding, “Her parents are out of town at a church conference, and I went over to see her and found her like this.” Mason looked mystified. But I was only focused on Sarah.
“Hey,” I said. “Look at me. Are you sixteen?”
She didn’t answer, and I said, “Hey, guys. We need a minute, please.” I was firm but calm, just like I would have been with a patient’s family in the hospital.
They walked away and I said, “Sarah?”
“I’m seventeen. I’m a senior.”
“Your parents don’t have to know. You can seek medical care without their consent.”
“But I’m the preacher’s kid,” she whispered. “Everyone knows me.”
I looked at her seriously. “Sarah, you are going to be the preacher’s dead kid, and then everyone is really going to be talking.”
Her eyes widened. She looked around. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”
I couldn’t know what she was getting at.
Because if I knew, I would be obligated to do something.
So I said, “Sarah, people get abdominal infections all the time, for all types of reasons. And that’s all I’m going to say.
” I knew that a physical exam thorough enough to ascertain that Sarah had just given birth was unlikely in a crowded emergency department.
“I just don’t know. What if someone calls the police?” she whispered.
“I’m not trying to scare you,” I said. “If we can get you to the hospital, you are going to be fine. But there’s nothing I can do to treat you here. You need intravenous antibiotics.”
Mason came back over. “Um, Daisy?” He looked at me questioningly. Drew walked up behind him.
“This is a very serious abdominal infection,” I said, locking my eyes on his.
It took a second, but a knowing washed over him.
Drew, of course, was too young for that same knowing to wash over him.
He said, “She’s being crazy. Can’t fever do that to you?
Her parents obviously would want her to go to the hospital. ”
Sarah was quietly weeping. “Look at me, Sarah,” I said. “I’m going to take care of you. You have to trust me, okay?”
She gave me a small nod, and I got out of the way so Mason and Drew could half carry her through the house and down the stairs.
As Drew got Sarah situated in the back seat, Mason walked to me in the dark, by the car. “Shit,” he said. “Maisy?”
“Has to be,” I said. Panic flooded me. This girl was sick, very sick.
I knew we were days if not hours away from her leaving us if she didn’t get treated.
My mouth went dry, my heart pounded, and the world around me went just a little hazy.
I couldn’t lose a patient. Not another one. Even if she wasn’t really mine.
“What the hell do we do now?” Mason asked. He put his hand on my arm, bringing me back to myself, steadying me. “Daisy?” he said quietly.
I shook my head. This was an infection in a healthy girl. She was going to be fine. I had to get myself together.
“For now,” I said firmly, more to myself than to Mason, “we treat this little girl.” I took a deep breath. “After that, I have absolutely no idea.”