Sun-Kissed Baby

Carlee wrote a check and tried not to think about using most of the money she had left in the bank. The rest would barely cover the bank’s service charge, and payday was not for another week.

Hurrying back to the ER, she took up her vigil once more. Finally a man wearing green scrubs, paper slippers over his shoes and a stethoscope looped around his neck came out of the trauma room. “I’m Dr. Vance. Your son is going to be fine.”

Carlee bolted to her feet and burst into tears of relief. “Oh, thank God. Thank God…”

“He has croup, but we’ve got it under control. His heart rate is down to 120 and respiration to forty-eight. Those are good vital signs. He’s also awake and alert and taking a bottle without wheezing.”

“Croup.” She mouthed the word. It was familiar, but she could not recall what it meant.

“It’s a viral infection of the upper and lower breathing tract. It can come on suddenly, without warning, most often at night, and sometimes it’s triggered by exposure to cold air.”

Carlee blanched. Cold air. It had been damp and cold at the cemetery. She had not wanted to take him, but wanted to be able to tell him one day that he had gone to his mother’s funeral. “It’s my fault,” she whispered, overcome with guilt. “I had him outside today. I shouldn’t have.”

Dr. Vance was quick to assure her, “Now, now. I said triggered, not caused. He already had the virus, only you didn’t know it. There was no way you could have. So don’t blame yourself. I deal with croup several times a night. It’s one of the few diseases I can think of that can give the impression a child is going to die. Unfortunately some do, but you acted quickly and did the right thing in calling an ambulance, and now the danger is over. We’re going to admit him overnight for observation, though, and keep giving him humidified oxygen and epinephrine every four hours as needed. By morning, I expect all the symptoms to be completely gone. We’ll send him home with a prescription for prednisone and keep him on that for the next four days.

“You’ll have a copy of his records,” he continued, “so you can take them to his regular pediatrician. He’s going to need a follow-up in about a week to make sure he’s doing okay. I suggest you keep him inside, in bed if you can, till he’s completely over this. Being weak, he doesn’t need to be exposed to other children who might have another kind of infection. Just keep a close eye on him.”

“I’ll watch him every minute, believe me,” she promised.

The door to the trauma room opened, and a nurse came out pushing Scotty in a rolling cradle. Carlee thanked the doctor and fell into step beside the nurse.

The woman smiled. “He’s so cute. And such a good baby, too. You can stay with him in the pediatric unit if you like. They have recliners for parents.”

Carlee wasn’t about to leave Scotty’s side. They’d have to drag her out of the hospital if they tried to make her. And she didn’t care about recliners. She would stand on her feet all night if necessary. She didn’t want to take her eyes off him for one second.

The nurses in the pediatric unit were just as kind as the ones in the ER. They brought her a pillow and a blanket and said she should let them know if there was anything they could do to make her more comfortable.

Scotty was sleeping soundly, his breathing even and normal. Carlee watched his little chest rise and fall, and gave thanks that the worst was over. Tomorrow she would buy a book on child care and read it cover to cover so she’d be able to recognize illnesses.

Tomorrow.

She shuddered to think once again of the problems she faced.

Tomorrow she would lose her job, because there was no way she was going to leave Scotty with a sitter until he was completely well. And if she had to drop out of school, a new course wouldn’t start until after it was time for her to report for work at the grove gift shop. There would be no promotion and no raise this year.

She was also going to have to tell the apartment-complex manager that since she had no job, she had no idea when the rent would be paid.

And what about the hospital bill and Scotty’s medicine?

Leaning her head on the crib railing, she had never felt so alone or desperate in her life. There just didn’t seem to be any solution. Asking for welfare or food stamps was out of the question, because she was afraid when it was discovered she was not yet Scotty’s legal guardian, the authorities would take him away from her because of her inability to support him. He would be placed with strangers, and Carlee could almost hear Alicia crying in her grave if that happened.

Carlee was glad Scotty was in a semiprivate room. She did not want to be around anyone else. But then another baby was brought in, a little girl about Scotty’s age, also recuperating from a croup attack. The parents looked as though they had been through the same traumatic experience as she had, weary and worn from the experience.

A nurse pulled the privacy curtain, but Carlee could hear the conversation between the couple.

“I’ll stay with him, honey,” the father was saying. “You go home and get some rest. Then you can come back and pick us up in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” the mother responded, sounding doubtful. “You’ve got to work tomorrow.”

“I can manage. I want you to feel up to taking care of Cindy and not be sleepy. So you run along.”

“But tomorrow night you start that second job at the gas station.”

“And I’ll take a third job if that’s what it takes to support you two. Now go home and go to bed, honey.”

Silence. Carlee knew they were kissing. Then they said their good-nights, and the mother left.

There was a good father, Carlee thought wistfully. The kind she wished she’d had growing up. Who could say that Scotty’s father wouldn’t be like that if he knew he had a son?

If Alicia had told him she was pregnant, things might have been different. He might have agreed to help Alicia financially had he known about Scotty.

So maybe it was time he found out.

Carlee had reached the end of her rope and had nothing to lose by letting him know he had a son.

But first she had to find him.

Chapter Two

Carlee had never been to the Blue Moon Lounge but quickly recognized the decor Alicia had described—potted palms, ficus trees, hanging baskets of ferns and philodendron, and brilliant-colored tropical birds squawking in bamboo cages. Water trickled down a rock wall into a rock-bordered pool swimming with goldfish, and floor-to-ceiling windows offered a spectacular view of the azure sea beyond. Alicia had enjoyed working there, and had made good tips.

Carlee figured the late afternoon was a good time for her to drop by. She intended to be finished before the “happy hour” crowd arrived.

A man wearing khaki slacks and a bright floral shirt greeted her. “May I help you? I’m afraid the bar isn’t open yet.” He gave Scotty a questioning glance. “I hope you aren’t planning on bringing him to Happy Hour.”

“Oh, heavens, no! I was a close friend of Alicia Malden. This is her son, Scotty. I assume you knew her?”

“I sure did,” he said, his tone instantly compassionate. “I’m Jim Martin, the manager. We all thought so much of her, and I want you to know how sorry we are. I wanted to make it to the funeral, but there was something else I couldn’t get out of. I pitched in on the flowers, though, and I know that some of the girls here went.”

“They did, and the flowers were beautiful. Tell me, how long did you know Alicia?” Carlee asked.

“I’ve only been the manager for seven months, so I knew her for that long. I thought she was nice, very hardworking.” He looked puzzled. “Is there something you need from me?”

“No, because you didn’t know her very long, you won’t have the information I’m after. Is Marcy Jemison around?”

He motioned to glass doors opening out to a deck overlooking the beach. “She’s outside taking a breather with some of the other girls before the rush starts.”

She thanked him and made her way out to where Marcy was propped on a railing with two other young women, all dressed in the familiar white shorts and blue blouse that Carlee remembered Alicia wearing.

Marcy squealed with recognition and held out her arms to Scotty. This time, he went to her with a big grin.

“This is Alicia’s baby,” she announced to the others, whirling him around and hugging him. “Isn’t he adorable?” Then to Carlee, “What brings you to the beach?”

Soberly, Carlee replied, “Our conversation at the cemetery.”

Marcy’s eyes went wide. “Oh, wow. That’s great. So you’re really going to nail the guy. Good for you.”

Carlee hadn’t thought of it in quite that way. All she wanted was to ask Scotty’s father to accept his responsibilities. If he refused to believe Scotty was his, then it would be a different story. She wasn’t going to let another man mess with her life if she could help it. Besides, Scotty deserved the support of his father.