Except …
At that moment, Chuck came trotting into the bedroom.
“You!”
They’d have to get rid of the dog. The kids loved the germ-infested little guy, but he’d have to go. All those little hairs. Luke probably had one stuck in his incision. It was probably covered in bacteria. And Summer would have to disinfect the entire house. Again. Having made the decision, Summer hurried into the boys’ room, where Derek was helping Luke change.
“Aren’t we supposed to take him to the ER?” she asked, her voice coming out panicked even though she meant to conceal her fear.
Derek nodded. “I haven’t taken his temperature, yet but I’m sure it’s at least a hundred and two. That’s pretty high. Ghost or no ghost.”
Luke giggled. “Da-ad.”
Derek shrugged. “What? It is. Nobody should have a temperature this high, buddy. No big deal, though. That’s what they made medicine for. We’ll get you fixed up.”
Summer could see the wheels turning in Luke’s head as he figured out what this all meant. Derek must have noticed, too, because he put an arm around Luke’s shoulders. “Seriously, bud. No biggie. Why don’t you go grab some books and stuff to bring with you?”
Luke nodded and headed for the living room.
Not for the first time, Summer wished she could be a child again so someone could reassure her. Derek would try, but she could also see the tiny vertical line between his eyebrows, a sure sign he was worried, too.
Luke returned with a bag full of books and Derek said, “Shall we go?”
Wait. Why did Derek think he was taking Luke? Shouldn’t Summer be the one to take him? She wanted to be with him. If she was with him, she could make sure the nurses and doctors at the ER did everything correctly.
“Why are you taking him?” she said, her voice coming out low and growly.
Derek jumped as if her words had stung him.
“I just assumed I would, since—”
“You just assumed, huh? You know what they say—”
Now she could see him getting angry. His shoulders tensed and his jaw set. Good. Anger was better than fear.
“Summer. Bring it down a notch, okay? You know how it is at the ER. We could be there for hours. I thought you’d want to stay with Olivia. We’ve used up all the frozen breastmilk and we don’t want to bring her into the hospital and expose her to all those germs.”
Summer took a deep breath and felt herself stepping away from the cliff that was anger and resentment. Derek was right, of course. She nodded. “Okay. I’ll stay here. Hold down the fort.”
She cupped Luke’s face in her hands and kissed him on the forehead. Yikes, he was hot.
“Okay, buddy,” Derek said. “Let’s hit it.”
As they walked out the front door, Summer bit her lip to keep from crying.
***
Somehow, fifteen years after Summer had taken the privileges and duties of motherhood away from Willow, Willow’s mothering instincts kicked in. Her timing couldn’t be worse. Just as Summer put the teapot on the stove to boil, Willow walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Why are you up at this time of night?” Summer said.
“I don’t know. You were being quiet, but I sensed you were awake. Instinct.” She tapped her temple.
Summer snorted. “Luke woke up with a high fever. Derek’s taking him to the hospital.” She got a mug out of the cupboard and didn’t offer Willow one.
“Can’t you just give him some ibuprofen or something?”
Willow missed Summer’s reaction—an annoyed sigh and rolled eyes—because Summer’s head was in the pantry. Summer chose a teabag and turned around, but didn’t make eye contact.
“No,” she said. “He just had surgery, Willow. We can’t risk an infection. He could just have a virus, but we won’t know until a doctor examines him.”
“Hm. Well, why aren’t you going back to bed?”
“You would ask that,” Summer said. “I’m worried, that’s why. I know I won’t be able to sleep until Derek calls with an update and I know Luke’s okay.”
She tore open the teabag’s wrapper and put the bag into the mug, her movements sharp and jerky.
“Well, I’ll sit up with you.”
Wonderful. Summer didn’t answer.
“I’ll just get myself some tea,” Willow said. She retrieved a mug for herself and set it on the counter next to Summer’s before digging her own teabag out of the pantry. The teapot whistled. Summer poured water into the mugs and carried hers to the kitchen table.
Willow followed.
Summer inhaled the steam from her peach tea, and Willow tapped her fingers on the tabletop. Willow sighed and began to talk.
“I went to see your father again,” she said.
“So that’s where you went yesterday?” Summer said.
“I kept waiting for you to ask.”
“Well, it’s none of my business, is it?”
Willow raised a shoulder. “I guess it is.”
“Hm.”
Summer knew she should ask how it went. But she didn’t really care right now. So she stared into her tea and waited. Willow would tell her eventually.
“I was nervous,” Willow said, and Summer braced herself for the long story, in which Willow’s feelings would undoubtedly play the starring role. “I walked up to the school just as the final bell rang.”
As Willow went on to describe the way her fingers tingled with nerves, and the way she’d worn certain shoes to ensure her calf muscles stood out, Summer’s mind wandered to Derek and Luke. They would have made it to the hospital by now. She could picture Derek sitting on a chair in the triage area, snapping impatient answers at whichever unfortunate soul had the job of inputting Luke’s details. Any minute he would send her a text message asking for some critical piece of information like Luke’s blood type or the insurance policy number or Summer’s star sign. She checked her phone again. No text.
Luke was probably sitting on the chair next to Derek, his knees pulled up under his chin, his eyes big as he took in all the activity. Summer hoped he wasn’t traumatized by anything disgusting in the ER. Hopefully they’d get him into a room quickly.
“So I decided, ‘This is it, Willow,’” Willow was saying. “And I marched right into his classroom.”
Summer brought her mind back to the kitchen. Willow had marched right into Dennis’s classroom?
“So what happened?”
He looked surprised, for sure,” Willow said. “And not as angry as he did the other day. Not as happy as I expected, either.” She took a sip of her tea. “He looks exactly the same. He’s aged well.”
She would talk about his looks rather than the actual conversation, Winter said.
Willow continued: “He has some graying around the temples, but it’s actually quite sexy. I never would have thought I’d like that. And his chest hair sticks out above the top of his collar. He’s obviously gotten more hairy.”
“Obviously,” Summer said. She heard the wry tone of her own voice and wondered if Willow did, too. She must have because she switched gears.
“Anyway,” she said. “He said my name. ‘Willow?’ Like a question. Like he wasn’t sure. I said, ‘Hi, Dennis.’ He didn’t smile, exactly, but something changed in his eyes. He asked about you, Summer. He said, ‘How is our daughter? I suppose she’s all grown up by now.’”
Knowing Willow, she was probably hurt that he’d asked about Summer first.
“Initially, it annoyed me that he asked about you, first.”
Summer took a breath to respond, rapid fire, and say that showed he was a good guy, but Willow held up a hand to stop her. “I know,” she said. “I came to my senses. The fact that he asked about you first shows that he’s a good guy.”
Ugh. Why are you on the same wavelength? Winter said. This never happens.
Summer nodded, drank some tea, checked her phone. No messages.
“Then what?”<
br />
“So I told him all about you. I told him how you’re married to a nurse—a man nurse, of course—and how you just had your fifth child. I told him how you work as a graphic designer and how you have his eyebrows. Well, his old eyebrows. Not his new ones. His new ones are kind of bushy.”
Summer surprised herself by laughing. So Willow had given Summer’s father the demographics. But she probably hadn’t told him anything about Summer’s personality or tastes. Willow probably didn’t even know. She probably hadn’t bothered noticing that Summer abhorred the texture of shrimp and that she took cream but not sugar in her coffee. She probably hadn’t noticed that Summer valued honesty above everything else, and that she was a steadfast friend and a patient mother.
“I told him you’re kind of a hippie,” Willow said. “What with your yoga and inner peace and all that.”
When Summer raised her eyebrows, Willow laughed. “But don’t worry. I told him you don’t burn incense or wear tie-dye.” She laughed. “He said you sound like a really good person.”
Willow probably took credit for the way you turned out, Winter said. But we all know that’s a lie.
“I told him I couldn’t take credit for how well you turned out,” Willow said. “I mean, I can’t, can I?”
Huh.
“Since when did you become so introspective?” Summer said.
“Oh, Summer. I’ve always been. I just don’t like thinking or talking about it. If you were me, would you like looking in the mirror?” Before Summer could answer, Willow added, “And I don’t mean the actual mirror. I mean the proverbial one.”
“Probably not,” Summer admitted. She was surprised that Willow didn’t look hurt by the admission. “So what else did you talk about?”
“Well, I asked him what he’s been up to, which, of course, we know is teaching, and he asked me what I’ve been up to, which, of course, is drinking, mostly. Just kidding. I just told him, ‘A little of this and a little of that.’ Gotta keep the mystery going, right?”
“I guess so,” Summer said. “So how did you leave it?”
“We exchanged numbers. The real shit of it is, he’s single. Divorced, actually. I couldn’t decide whether I liked that or not. I always fantasized that when I saw him again, he’d tell me he waited for me. Pined away, you know? But it turns out, he got married shortly after we, um, broke things off.”
Willow answered the next question before Summer could ask it. “You have a brother. Well, a half-brother.”
Millions of questions came to Summer’s mind then. To hide her surprise and all the thoughts racing around like balls in a pinball machine, she looked down at the table. How old was this brother? (A few years younger than her, probably.) Had she ever met him? (Most likely she had. Such was small-town life. He’d probably stood in front of her in line for coffee, or held the door for her at the bank.)
It felt strange to think she may have crossed paths with him and not even known it. Weren’t they cosmically connected somehow? Wouldn’t her soul recognize his?
She looked up to see Willow watching her expectantly, and she became infuriated. Willow didn’t really care about Summer’s reaction to discovering she had a brother. She just cared about the drama. Well, Summer wouldn’t give it to her.
She shrugged. “That’s nice.”
Willow didn’t answer. Summer continued to feel antsy and helpless as she waited for Derek to text with a Luke update.
“Well, I’d better get to disinfecting,” she said.
She stood up, retrieved the can of disinfectant spray from under the sink and began spraying surfaces—again.
“I guess I’ll go back to bed,” Willow said.
By the time Summer turned around, Willow was gone, her mug on the table, still full of tea.
***
Alone with her thoughts, Summer ran through that list of a household’s most bacteria-infested places. She’d seen it in an article once. The kitchen sink, the bathroom, the door handles. She’d have to scrub those as well as spray them. Scrub. Spray. Scrub. Spray. Scrub. Spray. She started to feel a little dizzy, and figured it was just because she was inhaling aerosol. Derek and Luke had been gone two hours. Summer hadn’t finished scrubbing or spraying, but she took a break to text Derek.
Any updates?
After a few minutes, he replied: Still waiting in triage. He’s still pretty hot.
She went back to cleaning, feeling her resentment toward Derek building. Why wasn’t he demanding that a doctor see Luke? He should be pushing through triage like a man on a mission. He was just too nice. He’d wait until Luke’s fever climbed even higher, because he didn’t want to stress the nurses and doctors out or make them think he was a jerk. Luke was probably droopy-eyed and miserable next to him. Why wasn’t he forcing them to examine him? He needed antibiotics.
Even though she knew she was being totally irrational, she texted Derek again: Don’t let them make you wait. Get in there.
She could imagine him, sitting on one of those plastic chairs, holding the phone in his lap, reading the message and closing his eyes in exasperation. When he didn’t respond, she knew he was biting his virtual tongue.
She kept cleaning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Just after dawn, Summer woke up on the couch, the spray can on the floor next to her, a wad of paper towels still clutched in her hand. She didn’t even realize she’d fallen asleep, but her trusty alarm clock, Olivia, was now going off, ensuring she didn’t miss the start of a new day.
Her phone. Where had she left it? Surely Derek had texted by now. She went to get Olivia and then carried her through the house, frantic, looking for her phone. Lack of sleep made her eyes dry and rough, and she blinked repeatedly to moisten them. As she hunted for her phone, Olivia’s cries became more insistent, and Summer bounced her, making shhh noises as she retraced her steps from the night before. Tea at the table with Willow. Scrubbing the kitchen sink. Wiping down door handles.
She found it under the sink in the kids’ bathroom. That’s right, she’d run out of paper towels and had looked there for a new roll.
5 Messages.
She scrolled frantically for a message from Derek, and found it at the bottom of the list, received just after four a.m.: They’re just now admitting him. Obviously he has an infection of some kind. They’re starting IV antibiotics, and they’ll run tests to see what’s going on. They think he’ll be fine, once we get the infection cleared up. I texted Josie and Delaney to see if they could help you in the morning.
“I don’t need help,” she said to no one. Her voice sounded grumpy and pouty in the ringing silence.
Olivia wailed. Summer went into the living room to feed her and read the remaining messages.
The first was from Josie, who had copied Delaney. She’d sent it just after six—so only about fifteen minutes ago: We’ll be over at 6:30. Why didn’t you call us last night when Derek took Luke to the hospital?
Delaney had responded just after that: You need to learn to ask for help.
Then Josie: We know you’re practically perfect. ;) But it’s okay to lean on us. That’s what we’re here for.
Delaney: Preach it, sister.
Summer smiled despite herself.
***
The girls came in like drill sergeants (well, drill sergeants with donuts). All the kids were up by six forty-five, and Delaney and Josie fed them and got them dressed while Summer showered. Willow continued sleeping.
“Your house is spic and span,” Josie said when Summer returned to the kitchen, dressed in holy jeans and a raggedy T-shirt (because they were the only clean clothes she could find), her wet hair piled into a bun.
“When did you do all this cleaning?” Delaney asked.
Summer felt trapped when she heard the threatening tone in Delaney’s voice. She glanced around at the kids, who stared at her with wide eyes. Then she looked at Josie, who was cutting a donut into tiny pieces for Hannah and alternately feeding her bites of scrambled egg, and
then at Delaney, who was twisting Sarah’s hair into a fancy braid.
Her friends stared back at her, their eyes piercing.
She sighed because she knew what was coming. “Last night.”
“Last night, when? When you should have been sleeping?”
Summer shrugged and nodded, like it was no big deal.
“Woman. How can you take care of all these people if you won’t take care of you?” Josie said.
She had a point. “I couldn’t sleep,” Summer said.
“Look,” Delaney said. “We can’t stay here all day. I’ve got a full schedule at the clinic and Josie’s got an in-service training thing at school. We’ve already discussed what’s going to happen. We’re going to finish getting the kids ready. We’re going to make them lunch and leave it in the fridge. You’re going to leave for the hospital so you can be with Luke. And Willow is going to babysit.”
Summer felt her head shaking before Delaney even finished her last sentence.
“It’s only for a couple of hours,” Josie said. “You have to be with Luke, and you need Derek there for support.”
“She’s still sleeping!” When she realized her voice sounded screechy, she took a deep breath and repeated herself.
“I’ll wake her up,” Sarah said. “And don’t worry, Mom, I’ll be here to help with Hannah and Olivia.”
Summer nodded. She was outvoted.
“Fine,” she said, and she didn’t miss the smiles Josie and Delaney exchanged before they answered, “Fine.”
***
A few minutes later, Willow entered the kitchen looking groggy, her hair sticking up in the back and her eyes only half-open.
“So you’re going to stay with the kids,” Delaney said in the same bossy tone she’d used on Summer a moment ago. “It’s just for a couple of hours. And then either Summer or Derek will come back to relieve you.”
The Motherhood Intervention: Book 3 in the Intervention Series Page 19