The Daddy Dilemma. Karen Rose Smith
next Wednesday.”
“Do you know what it is?” Kyle asked, looking interested.
“Nope. I have no idea.”
“Is he staying lots of days?”
“Two or three.”
“That’s okay,” Kyle replied with a grin.
Nathan was relieved to see that happy spark back in his son’s eyes. He pointed to the jeans one size up from the short ones Kyle wore now. “Why don’t you pick the pair you like the best. I’ll check out the coats.”
The boys coat rack was a few steps away. Nathan watched Kyle lift a pair of denims, flip them over and wiggle his little fingers into the back pocket.
Engrossed in trying to whittle down the selection of coats to two or three for Kyle to try on, Nathan wasn’t sure he heard a low voice calling “Dad.” But he turned anyway.
When he saw his son gasping for air, he dropped the coats and hurried to him. Fear shone in Kyle’s eyes, and his breathing was labored.
“Hold on.” Nathan tried to keep the panic from his voice as he reached for the inhaler in his pocket. Kyle hadn’t suffered a serious asthma attack in over a year. That day he’d been outside playing too long, and the fall grasses had set him off.
Trying to stay calm, Nathan shook the inhaler, then held it to his son’s lips. Twice Kyle sucked in the puffs of medication.
A store clerk was at Nathan’s side, asking if she could help. The scent of her perfume was strong. He ignored her, all of his attention riveted on his son.
Holding the inhaler himself now, Kyle shook his head to signal the medicine wasn’t helping. “I can’t breathe,” he rasped.
Although he realized he had to give the medication a few minutes to work, Nathan still scooped Kyle up into his arms. His boy’s face was gray and he was struggling to draw in air. Waiting wasn’t an option.
“Should I call emergency services?” the clerk asked.
Nathan hated watching Kyle suffer. His own pulse was racing and his heart pounded in his ears. He had to keep a clear head. If the woman called the paramedics, they would take at least five minutes to get here.
“Call the E.R. and tell them I’m coming—asthmatic child in crisis.” Then he raced out of the store, running faster than he ever had run even when he’d sprinted in a track meet. He could be at the hospital in less than five minutes. Even one minute could be crucial now.
That minute could save his son’s life.
As the automated doors opened for Nathan, he ran into the emergency room of Rapid Creek Community Hospital, yelling for a doctor. Although the hospital was small, it was well-equipped, with a dedicated staff. The clerk’s call must have prepared them, because a doctor rushed to Nathan and showed him to a cubicle. While he administered a dose of medication, a nurse pulled the curtains around them. Kyle’s lips had turned blue and his little face was ashen. Nathan prayed like he’d never prayed before.
As the doctor, whose name tag read Dr. Marshall, began Kyle’s inhalation therapy, Nathan stayed by his son’s side, holding his hand to keep him calm. Every few moments he said, “I’m right here. You’re going to be fine.”
Kyle was breathing easier now.
Dr. Marshall, who was wearing a white coat over a blue oxford shirt and khakis, looked to be in his forties. “I paged Dr. Redding.”
Dr. Redding was the town’s pulmonary specialist. Kyle had seen him for a checkup at the end of the summer.
“This treatment will last about ten minutes. We’ll let him rest for a while, then give him another. When Dr. Redding arrives, he’ll examine him thoroughly and check his blood gases. My guess is after an attack like this, he’ll want to keep him overnight.”
Hearing every word, Kyle’s eyes widened in fear.
The doctor patted his arm. “Your dad will be able to stay if he’d like. We have a comfortable recliner he can roll next to your bed.”
Nathan squeezed Kyle’s hand. “If you have to stay, I’ll be right here with you.”
Kyle seemed to relax again at his words.
With a frown, Nathan asked, “I can’t use a cell phone in the hospital, can I?”
The doctor shook his head. “No. But if you’d like us to call someone for you, I’m sure the desk nurse would be glad to do that.”
“I don’t want to scare my father.”
“Jeannie is very good at public relations. But you will have to sign a form giving her permission to call.”
“Paperwork,” Nathan muttered.
“More and more every day,” the doctor agreed, examining Kyle again. After studying the monitor he was hooked up to, the doctor pulled back a curtain. “I’ll go get that form.”
Two hours later, Nathan was seated by Kyle’s bed in the pediatrics unit when his father appeared at the doorway with two cups of coffee and beckoned to him. This was his third cup of high octane caffeine. Nathan knew there’d be no sleep for him tonight. But there wouldn’t have been, anyway. He’d be watching Kyle. With the oxygen tube at his son’s nose and the breathing apparatus on the bedside stand, Nathan wouldn’t forget why his son was here.
There was another sleeping child, a ten-year-old boy, in a bed across the room. He’d been in an accident and had his spleen removed. His parents had decided not to stay for the night.
After making sure Kyle was still sleeping, Nathan went to the door and stepped out.
Galen handed him a cup of coffee.
Nathan took off the lid and tossed it into the nearby trash can. Then he sipped it and grimaced.
“It’s hot,” his father warned.
“It tastes like motor oil.”
“What do you expect? A latte from Javaland? I can go get you one, but I know you don’t go in for that kind of thing.”
“Instead of fetching coffee for me, you should just go home.”
“I thought we should have a talk first.”
Nathan met his dad’s steel-gray eyes. “What about? What caused this episode? I spoke to his doctor. It could have been the dyes and the smells of the fabrics in the store. It could have been the clerk’s perfume. It could have been—”
Galen raised a brow. “Before Kyle fell asleep, I asked him if he took his medicine this morning.”
“I gave him his tablet with breakfast.”
“That doesn’t mean he swallowed it. And let me tell you, son, that boy can’t lie any better than you could when you were a kid. He nodded that he took it, but he wouldn’t look at me dead-on.”
Nathan started to get angry, then reminded himself that Kyle was five years old. How could he possibly understand the gravity of his condition? “I’ll have to have another talk with him. But today’s scare should have been enough.”
After taking a couple of swallows from his cup, Galen hooked a thumb in his suspenders and gnawed on his lower lip for a couple of seconds. “There is something else that could have caused this, you know.”
“What?”
“Stress. Kids get stressed just like adults. You know it can be a factor in bringing on an asthma attack. Kyle’s been way too quiet ever since Sara Hobart visited him. He watches the mail every day as if he expects a letter from her. That’s emotional stress on the boy. Maybe you should let him know you’ve forbidden her from having any contact with him again, so he doesn’t expect anything from her. Or…maybe you should change your mind about her visiting him again.”