Page 129 of The Enchanted Land

“I’m here, baby. Mama’s right here and Daddy’s gone for the doctor. When he gets here, he’ll make you well. You’ll feel better then. The doctor will make it all stop hurting.”

“Mrs. Colter!” Roselle entered the room. “I heard Mr. Blake running down the stairs. Is everything all right?” She stopped when she saw Morgan’s face. Never had she seen such bleakness, such despair. She looked at Adam, too quiet, his mother holding his hand. “Adam!” She touched his burning little forehead and her eyes drooped.

Once before, this had happened. She was reliving that time. Her little girl had been like Adam, and about his age, too. Sarah, her sweet, always-active little girl. One morning she’d found her in her bed, so quiet and so hot. In less than a week, she’d died. She’d never really gotten over Sarah, or the pain of washing and dressing that sweet little body for the final time. Please, dear God, don’t let it all happen again.

“What can I do?” Morgan’s eyes implored the older woman.

Roselle tried to control her rising hysteria. “Did Mr. Blake go for the doctor?”

“Seth. He’s not Mr. Blake, he’s Seth Colter, Adam’s daddy.” She stroked Adam’s hand and arm.

“I thought so.” Roselle had to calm herself and calm Morgan. She left the room and returned with a dress and underclothes. She lifted Morgan from her knees and began dressing her, as if she were a child. She kept up a steady stream of talk. “It’s probably just one of those childhood things, the things children always get. I’m sure he’ll be well in no time at all.”

“Adam’s never sick. He’s never even had a bad cold.”

“Well, then, it’s time he had one.” Roselle tried not to let the fear into her voice.

“He’s so still. Why isn’t he yelling, ‘Eat, eat,’ like he always does? Adam.” She fell to her knees again. “Mommy will get you some chicken. Would you like some chicken? Or cookies? Would Mommy’s baby like some cookies?”

Adam made a great effort to open his eyes. Morgan gasped at the pain she saw in them.

Roselle put her arm around the other woman’s shoulders, forcefully lifting her. “Please, Mrs. Colter, sit here.” She pulled a chair close to the bed. “Adam doesn’t want to eat now. Just wait until the doctor comes. He’ll know what to do.” She started toward the door. “I’ll send Carol up with some breakfast for you.”

When Morgan was alone, she felt the full fear rising in her throat, threatening to choke her. For some reason, Roselle’s statement that Adam didn’t want to eat was more frightening than his extraordinary quiet or even his fever-ridden little body. Adam always ate. He was born hungry and his little life was controlled by food. His first word had been “Eat!” It had not been a quiet attempt at the word, but one day it had just exploded from his lips in a demand. She remembered how she and Jake, Lupita and Paul, had all laughed. Adam had ignored them. He had demanded food and he expected it to be served to him.

Adam didn’t want to eat. The words repeated themselves over and over in her brain. His face was flushed, the fever making his cheeks a vivid red. That couldn’t be Adam, she thought. Adam was always a blur of motion. He’s playing a game, to make me bake him some cookies. Yes, that’s what he wants. I’ll bake him thousands of cookies, but I can’t go to the kitchen now because I must be here when he opens his eyes.

She stroked his forehead. It was so dry. Adam was usually wet. He sweat all the time, just like his father. He played hard, running and laughing so much that perspiration often soaked his hair.

“When you get over your bad cold, Adam, Mommy will bake you some cookies, and some little cakes with lots of icing. We’ll write ‘Adam’ on them and ‘horse’ and ‘eat’ … and we’ll draw pictures.”

Adam opened his eyes and stared at his mother in bewilderment. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. In his whole life, the only pain he’d experienced was scraped knees and skinned elbows. When those things had happened, he’d gone to his mother and her kisses had made the hurt stop. Now his mother was here and the pain didn’t go away. He didn’t understand, not at all.

Morgan didn’t know how long she sat there. She was vaguely aware of Roselle and Carol entering and leaving the room. A few times she heard someone telling her to eat. The lump was still in her throat and she knew she could swallow nothing. Didn’t they understand that if her baby couldn’t eat, then neither could she?

She heard voices outside the door and recognized Seth’s. He’d have the doctor. She felt relief flood her body. “The doctor’s here, baby. He’ll make you well. He’ll make the pain go away.”

She ran to meet Seth. “Where’s the doctor?”

“He’s coming. Is he any better?”

“No, Seth. He’s so hot. So hot, and he’s so little.”

Seth held his wife’s hand. It was cold. They went together to Adam’s bed. Seth’s fears mounted. In the few hours since he’d been gone, Adam looked as if he’d shrunk. His entire face was red, splattered with ghostly white splotches.

“This is Dr. Larson, Morgan, and this is Mrs. Colter.”

“Our son, doctor! He’s so little and he hurts. He’s never been sick before.”

Seth took her arm, quieting her. He noticed she’d said “our son.” He was glad she was ready to admit their relationship because, in his haste, he had given the doctor his real name.

“I’ll do what I can, Mrs. Colter.”

The doctor, an older, corpulent man, pulled back the covers and began to examine Adam. As he pulled up Adam’s nightshirt, Morgan gasped at the redness. Seth’s grip on her arm tightened.

“I think this is the culprit.” He turned Adam’s leg to show a bump, large and inflamed, on the calf of his left leg. “It seems to be some kind of insect bite.”

“Some kind?Whatkind? What kind of insect bite?!”

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