Page 33 of Christmas with Holly

It had begun to rain outside, water glittering on the windows. The rain was slow but steady, the clouds piled like unfolded laundry. Buildings crouched patiently beneath the elements, letting the storm water run through paved cascades and across vegetated swales, and into roadside rain gardens. Seattle was a city that knew what to do with water.

As Mark watched the oblique patterns of rivulets sliding along building exteriors of stone and glass, he couldn’t help thinking of the rainy night, less than a year ago, that had changed everything. He realized that before Holly, he had measured out his emotions as if they were some finite substance. Now there was no hope of stopping or containing them. Was parenting ever going to get easier? Did you ever reach a point where you could stop worrying?

“This is a new side of you,” Shelby said with a quizzical smile as she saw Mark checking his phone for the twentieth time during dinner. “Sweetie, if Sam hasn’t called, that means everything’s okay.”

“It could mean something’s wrong and he hasn’t had a chance to call,” Mark said.

Allison and Bill, the other couple, exchanged the smiling, slightly superior glances of experienced parents. “It’s hardest with the first one,” Allison said. “You’re scared every time they get a fever…by the time you have the second or third, you stop worrying so much.”

“Kids are pretty resilient,” Bill added.

Knowing that all of this was intended to ease Mark’s worry didn’t help one bit.

“He’ll be a good father someday,” Shelby told Allison in a smiling aside.

The praise, which probably should have pleased Mark, elicited a flare of irritation. Someday? He was a fathernow. There was more to being a parent than a biological contribution…in fact, that was the least part of it.

“I need to leave for just a minute to call Sam,” he told Shelby. “I just want to find out if the fever’s gone.”

“Okay, if it will help you to stop worrying,” Shelby said. “Then we can enjoy the rest of the evening.” She gave him a meaningful glance. “Right?”

“Right.” Mark leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Excuse me.” He stood from the table, went to the restaurant lobby, and pulled out his cell phone. He knew that Shelby and the other couple thought he was overreacting, but he didn’t give a damn. He needed to know that Holly was okay.

The call was picked up. He heard his brother’s voice. “Mark?”

“Yeah. How is she?”

A nerve-wracking pause followed. “Not great, actually.”

Mark felt his blood turn to ice water. “What do you mean, ‘Not great’?”

“She started throwing up not long after you left. She’s been puking her guts out. I never would’ve believed one little body could produce so much evil stuff.”

“What are you doing for her? Have you called the doctor?”

“Of course I did.”

“What did he say?”

“That it’s probably flu, and to give her sips of an oral rehydration fluid. And he said the ibuprofen may have made her sick to her stomach, so we’re going to go with just Tylenol now.”

“Does she still have a fever?”

“One hundred two, last time I checked. Unfortunately she can’t keep the medicine down long enough for it to do much good.”

Mark gripped the phone tightly. He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted to be back on the island, right then, taking care of Holly. “Do you have everything you need?”

“Actually, I have to pick up some stuff at the grocery store, like Jell-O and clear broth, so I’m going to get someone to babysit for a little while.”

“I’m coming back.”

“No, don’t. I’ve got a whole list of people I can call. And I…oh, Jesus, she’s throwing up again. Gotta go.”

The connection went dead. Mark tried to think above the rush of panic. He called the airline for a reservation on the next flight to Friday Harbor, called for a cab, and strode back to the table.

“Thank goodness,” Shelby exclaimed with a taut smile. “I wondered what was taking you so long.”

“I’m sorry. But Holly’s very sick. I have to go back.”

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