Five Days in Summer

mistake. He welcomed all their distractions, and had already forgiven them, in advance, for any of their life’s errors. He tried to recall hisfather’s face when the mowing was done and he prepared to go inside, but it vanished as if erased by the efforts of his memory. If he could just remember, if he could see it, he would be forgiven.
    “Dad,” David said, “your phone’s ringing.”
    Will heard the crescendo of his cell phone and wondered how long it had been ringing. He shifted Maxi so he could get the phone out of his pocket.
    “It’s Charlie.” He sounded rushed.
    “Are you at the house?” Will asked. “I had to run out—”
    “I wanted to tell you we got a late start. Val wasn’t feeling well last night. She was worried about the baby. The obstetrician told her to sleep before we got going, but we’re on our way now.”
    “Is she okay now?” More hours of waiting split open in front of Will. Had he made a mistake relying on them, given Val’s pregnancy? But she’d been healthy and the baby wasn’t due for nearly three months. “Maybe she should stay home and rest, Charlie. You could come alone.”
    “We’re already in the car,” Charlie said. “We should be there by noon.”
    A woman in a white coat hurried toward Will. She wore a badge reading MARY LAO, M.D., PEDIATRICS.
    “All right,” Will said. “We’ll see you then.”
    Before he could flip shut his phone, Dr. Lao reached for Maxi, who had fallen asleep on Will’s shoulder. “Come with me,” she said, and they followed her through the swinging doors that had swallowed up the injured family. The bloodied mother was being frantically worked on by a team of doctors under a bank of lights. Will turned away from her and kept moving.
    Dr. Lao hurried past them until she found a free examining table. She placed Maxi gently down,snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, pressed open Maxi’s right eye and shone a penlight directly into it. The pupil rapidly contracted. Dr. Lao repeated the procedure with the left eye. She took Maxi’s pulse with her finger. When the doctor slid the tip of an electronic thermometer into Maxi’s ear, she screamed.
    It was one of the most beautiful sounds Will had ever heard, as good as a baby’s first cry after birth. She was conscious enough to respond to pain; it had to be a good thing. He ground his jaw and choked back tears. The boys watched him, bewildered.
    Dr. Lao nodded her head. “How long has she had an ear infection?”
    “My wife took her to the doctor on Saturday.” Will handed Dr. Lao the bottle of antibiotics. She looked at the label and quickly reached the same conclusion as had Will, moments earlier.
    “She hasn’t been getting her medicine,” Dr. Lao said. “The infection’s spread through her sinuses, hopefully no farther. She has a fever of 106. That’s too high. I’ll have to admit her and get her on intravenous meds right away. She should be fine, but when she goes home she’ll have to continue on her antibiotics for the full course. Will that be a problem?”
    “No,” he said. “I can explain what happened.”
    “Not now. We have to get her admitted.” Dr. Lao saw a nurse and snagged her with an order. “Get this baby upstairs to three. I’ll be right up.”
    Sarah found them just at the moment Maxi was whisked away by the nurse and Dr. Lao turned to look at Will. She seemed to notice David and Sammie for the first time. “Are these your children too?”
    “Yes.”
    “Sometimes the younger ones get lost in the shuffle, don’t they?” Dr. Lao didn’t smile. “Make sure yourbaby gets every single dose of her meds after she’s released. This could have been very serious.”
    “It’s my fault,” Sarah said.
    “No.” Will gently squeezed Sarah’s arm. “I take full responsibility. She’s my child.”
    “Where’s the mother?” Dr. Lao asked. “I’d like to talk to her too.”
    Standing there in the hospital with his damaged family and not a clue to the answer to Dr. Lao’s question, Will felt an onslaught of warped proportions. He was four years old again, standing in the Jack Sprat Funhouse with his three cousins careening around him. Laughing. Testing their transformations in the multitude of bent mirrors. He stood fixed in one spot. There was a rounded mirror on the ceiling and he looked up into it and saw himself, all alone, squashed flat. His tears, when he cried, seemed to fall backward for miles.

Chapter 15
    “Dr. Geary, this is not