Page 31 of Colorado Christmas Carol
She told one of her staff on the way out what had happened and where she was going. She had the woman stay with Mellie in the lobby while she brought her car around. Then they got Mellie into the front seat and Essa burned rubber getting her to the ER.
She explained the situation to a clerk, who got Mellie right into a treatment room. Luckily, there were very few people who needed to be seen.
The young doctor examined Mellie, called in a nurse, and gave instructions.
“Your daughter will be fine,” he told Essa, assuming she was responsible for the girl, “but she needs to see an allergist. This is an asthma attack, and I’m betting it’s not the first one.” He smiled. “People don’t realize it, but pollen can be a problem year-round, not just in the warm months.”
“But she was only coughing,” Essa replied, not correcting his assumption about her relationship with her little friend.
“It sometimes presents that way, which is why people don’t see allergists. It’s not uncommon. She’ll be fine. We’re giving her breathing treatments, and I’ll prescribe an inhaler. You got her here in good time. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks,” Essa choked. She was really upset. The child could have died.
“All in a day’s work,” he said.
“I’ll be okay,” Mellie said as she did the breathing treatments. “Really, Essa.”
Essa hugged her. “I’m so sorry! I never should have taken you out when pollen was in the air . . . !”
“Yes, but we didn’t know I had asthma, did we?” the child asked gently. “Really. I’m fine.”
Essa swiped at her eyes. “Okay.”
Mellie’s phone rang. Essa plucked it out of her pocket and answered it.
“Where the hell is my daughter?” came a familiar voice.
“We’re in the ER,” she said. “She’s okay,” she added quickly. “She has asthma.”
“She has . . . what?” he asked curtly.
“Asthma. She started coughing while we were walking under some trees, and it wouldn’t stop. I was so scared . . . I rushed her to the ER. They’re giving her breathing treatments . . . Here, she can manage a few words . . .”
She handed the phone to Mellie.
“I’m okay, Daddy,” Mellie said in a rasping tone. “Essa took great care of me. Yes. Yes. I will. Okay. Bye.”
She handed the phone back. “He’s on his way here,” Mellie managed.
“Okay.” She smiled at the little girl, mentally hoping somebody, a doctor, a nurse, an orderly, somebody, would come to save her when he walked in the door. He was certainly going to blame her for the attack. And she blamed herself.
* * *
Duke walked right into the treatment room. Mellie, still doing the breathing treatment, gave him a smile and a thumbs-up from her perch on the examination table.
Essa, standing beside it with her arms crossed over her chest, looked devastated.
Duke hugged his daughter. Then, to her surprise, he pulled Essa into his arms and hugged her close.
“Thanks,” he said huskily.
She felt funny. He smelled of spicy cologne and soap, and he was as solid as a wall. All muscle. He was much taller than she was, but they fit together perfectly. She never wanted him to let go. She sighed and smiled and nuzzled her face into his shoulder.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He lifted his head and looked down into her eyes with affection. “What for?”
“Not being mad at me,” she replied solemnly. “I didn’t know she had allergies,” she said miserably. “She could have died, and it would have been my fault!”
