Another Dawn (10 page)

Mrs. Fulton had known I was pregnant and desperate when she hired me to work at the Blue Pacific. I had trouble understanding why she was so generous about the whole thing—when my father and my so-called friends were certainly less sympathetic. I didn’t have to wonder for long. My first day at work was the day I met Jasmine. And Collin. He had been four then, the same age Dylan was now.

The front office of the bed-and-breakfast was nothing like the rest of the house—done up in Victorian elegance, quiet, serene. It looked like any other office in the city might look, two small oak desks crammed in a too-tight space, each stacked with papers, computer screens sending an odd glow, the smell of stale coffee wafting through the air.

The phone was ringing and ringing. Mrs. Fulton looked at the girl behind the desk. “Elizabeth, I just received a call from Jasmine. I don’t think she’s going to make it in today.”

“But, Mrs. Fulton, we need her. We’re swamped in here. The phone’s ringing off the hook, this is the end of the month, all the invoices are due. We have that big group arriving from Arizona this weekend.”

“I know, I know. We’re just going to have to muddle through as best we can. Grace will help answer the phones. You won’t mind staying a little late tonight, will you, dear?” She looked toward me, and her expression was so sweet, so utterly guileless that I couldn’t have refused her anything.

“I don’t mind.”

“Thank you so much. I knew we could count on you. Now, settle in at this desk right here. Elizabeth will show you what to do.”

“Mrs. Fulton, I have plans for tonight. This is not fair.” Elizabeth twisted her dark hair around her finger and glared at Mrs. Fulton, apparently not the least bit uncomfortable to have this conversation in front of me. The new girl.

Mrs. Fulton nodded briefly and I saw the hint of moisture in her eyes. “Unfortunately, there are a lot of things about this life that aren’t fair. The sooner you learn that, the better off you’ll be.” She walked out of the room as if the matter were completely settled.

The door had barely closed behind her when Elizabeth looked at me. “Jasmine is already half an hour late. Owner’s daughter or not, she needs to show up to work, just like the rest of us. I wish I could decide I just wouldn’t come in on a day when I’m running a half hour late.” She shook her head. “She was supposed to go to the market this morning and pick up some nonperishables that Chef Jonathan needs for breakfast in the morning. I am
not
running out for flour and sugar during my time off, mark my words.”

I pictured this Jasmine girl, a spoiled rich brat, still in her pajamas, maybe just now waking up to decide she couldn’t make it in today. Even though I’d never met her, I instantly disliked her.

Two hours of total chaos later, when the office clamor had finally begun to calm a bit,
she
walked through the door. Her hair was short and curly, almost frizzy, and she wore a long brown skirt and a yellow tank top. She didn’t look remotely like the glamour-puss I’d been picturing. I’ll never, for as long as I live, forget the look on her face. Her eyes were red and puffy from where she’d obviously been crying, but beyond that, her expression was completely hollow. As if her entire soul had fled from her, leaving nothing but this shell. “I brought in the supplies for the kitchen. Can someone help me unload them?”

Elizabeth refused to even look up at her. “I’ve got to finish these invoices.”

I stood. “Uh, I’ll help.”

She looked toward me. “You must be the new girl.”

“Yeah, I’m Grace.”

“Well, Grace, how about following me? We’ve got some stuff to unload from the back of the SUV parked around back by the kitchen.”

“I need her to help in here.” Elizabeth snarled the words in an I’ve-been-at-work-all-day-while-you-haven’t sort of way.

Jasmine didn’t bother to look at her. She turned and walked through the office door, calling over her shoulder, “I think you can spare her for just a few minutes.”

Not knowing what else to do, I followed after Jasmine. I was just to the door when Elizabeth called from behind me, “She would’ve had all the time you need if you’d bothered to show up for work today.”

Jasmine wheeled around, almost knocking me over in the process. I backed up so she could reenter the office. She crossed her arms across her chest and leaned on the doorway, frowning toward Elizabeth, something like a dare in her eyes. “You want to know why I was late?”

“I’m guessing I already do.”

“Oh, somehow I doubt that you came up with this one.”

I took a step backward, wondering if I should continue to stand here or return to sitting at the desk. Or should I walk out of the room and go unload the SUV and leave these two to work out their differences? Since Jasmine was blocking the door, this one wasn’t really an option.

“I took Collin with me into Trader Joe’s.” Jasmine looked at me then and said, “My son is autistic. Fluorescent lights and crowded places don’t make for a good combination with him. They tend to stimulate his already overstimulated mind.”

I nodded as if I understood, but in truth I didn’t. Yet.

“Right from the get-go, he was fussy, so I shopped as fast as I could. He saw some candy near the checkout that he wanted, but I’d already written the check and there was a line behind me. Collin went crazy on our way out of the store.”

She paused a minute and began to pick at her thumbnail. “Elizabeth, you’ve seen Collin when he’s in meltdown mode; you know how ugly it can get. I think it is safe to say that this was one of his bigger melts. So . . .” She looked up toward the ceiling, staring as if seeing the scene projected against the white paint. “I grabbed him out of the cart, and he was flailing and screaming at full tilt now. ‘No! No! No go!’ ”

Jasmine went silent and rubbed her hand across her face. Elizabeth’s irritation had cooled enough that she looked at me and said, “Collin doesn’t use many words. ‘No’ is one he has perfected.”

My stomach flipped picturing the scene. I thought about the baby growing inside me and wondered what my future held. Was this what motherhood might look like for me, as well?

“Yes he has.” Jasmine sighed. “He was kicking at me as hard as he could and hitting at me, although I was holding his arms against his side. I got him in the car and managed to buckle him in, but he was still screaming, kicking, and hitting, shouting ‘no.’

“I walked around to the back of the car, tossing the stuff in as fast as I could because I wanted to get out of there. I put the last bag in and closed the hatch and drove out of the parking lot. Fast. Meanwhile, Collin was kicking the back of the seat, hitting himself, hitting the windows, flailing like he was hurt.” She shook her head, biting her bottom lip in what I assumed was an effort to retain control.

“I made it about three blocks before I noticed blue lights in my rearview mirror.” She rubbed her temple between her thumb and middle finger, effectively covering her eyes in the process. “It seems that several people in the parking lot who witnessed the scene had called 9-1-1 and reported a kidnapping in progress.”

A kidnapping? I couldn’t understand how a child’s tantrum could be mistaken for a kidnapping. Once again, Elizabeth looked at me and spoke. “Collin is four; he’s big for his age and looks at least six. No one expects these kinds of tantrums from a six-year-old.”

Jasmine dropped her hand and looked up. “So that’s why it took me until now to make it here. Between calming Collin, and then calming myself, I just couldn’t do it.” She looked directly toward Elizabeth. “I’m sorry I bailed on you today.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Come on, let’s go empty your car.”

That first day and many others since with Collin replayed in my memory as I drove Dylan to the hospital. I hadn’t told Dad where we were going or why—there’d be a lecture I couldn’t bear at the moment—just drove as fast as I could, formulating with each mile a list of reasons for not having vaccinated my son.

But as it turns out, nobody even took the time to ask. Then.

As we’d been told, a lab technician was waiting for us on the sidewalk at the back corner of the hospital. She was wearing what looked like a large yellow gown, and a mask covered the lower half of her face. “My name is Emily. I’m the lab tech who will be working with Dylan today.” She held out a couple of yellow gowns and masks. “We’ll need both of you to put these on before we go in.”

“Only girls wear yellow. That’s yucky.” Dylan coughed as he hid himself behind my legs.

Emily held up one of the yellow gowns. “Haven’t you ever seen a doctor on TV, Dylan? They wear these things all the time.”

“Real doctors? Like when they do surgery?” He reached out his hand to touch the gown.

“Yep. Or see patients that might have certain germs.” Emily nodded encouragingly. “Someone might even see you wearing this and think you work here, so absolutely no performing surgery today, no matter what they ask you to do. Okay?”

“ ’Kay.” He put the mask on his face, but he was coughing and it made it difficult for him to take a deep breath. Still, he was totally enthralled with the whole idea of looking like a doctor, so he became very cooperative in the process in spite of the fact that he was sick. I hurried into my mask and gown. We followed Emily inside, through a series of corridors until we reached a door labeled Critical Care Unit
.

Just the sight of it took my breath. “Why are we going in there?”

“We need a negative pressure room so we don’t spread any germs around.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of a more intelligent response.

Emily looked to be about my age, but cuter and far more put together. She led us through the unit, and into a room with a double set of doors. She pressed the nurse call button. “Will you let Dr. Mabry know I’ve got Dylan Graham in the negative pressure room?”

“I just talked to him. He asked that you wait until he gets there to draw anything.”

“Will do.”

She looked at me. “The on-call pediatrician will be in to check him out in just a minute. I think he wants to take a look before we start drawing labs, just in case there’s something else he wants to add when he sees him.” She looked toward Dylan. “No one wants to poke twice if you could save the second one by being thorough.”

“Okay.” It was as if my mind had ceased to function. Somehow I sputtered, “I took him to the clinic this morning. The doctor there didn’t mention measles, but my elderly neighbor, she thought it might . . .”

Emily’s gloved hand reached out and squeezed my arm. “Don’t you worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this. He’s going to be okay.”

I nodded numbly. Dylan climbed into my lap, coughing inside his mask. “I want to go home.”

Me too, buddy, me too.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be out of here before you know it. I’ll bet we’ll make it home in time to watch
Clifford the Big Red Dog
.”

“Well, what exactly do we have going on in here?” A man in a yellow suit and mask entered the room. His shock of gray hair and the smile lines around his eyes led me to believe that he was close to sixty. Somehow in this situation, his advanced age comforted me. He walked over to us. “You must be Dylan. I’m Dr. Mabry, and if you don’t mind, I want to take a closer look at your spots.”

“ ’Kay.” Dylan didn’t move, so Dr. Mabry was forced to lean closer and examine him on my shoulder. He looked first at Dylan’s forehead and neck, then pulled back the sleeve on his yellow gown before looking back up toward Emily. “This rash could very well be measles. It certainly looks like it.”

He pulled out a flashlight from his pocket. “Open your mouth for me, Dylan.”

“You’re not going to poke one of those things into my throat, are you?”

“Nope, no poking. Just looking.”

Dylan’s mouth remained firmly closed. Dr. Mabry held up one empty hand, the other hand holding only the flashlight. “See. I don’t have anything. Promise.”

Dylan finally opened his mouth, and Dr. Mabry leaned forward and looked inside. He looked at me and nodded toward Dylan’s outstretched tongue. “I would say what we are looking at here could be what is left of Koplik’s spots. Have you noticed these bluish white spots in his mouth over the last few days? Looks kind of like salt granules?”

I shook my head, ashamed and surprised that I could have missed something. “What are they?”

“They are called Koplik’s spots. They usually appear a few days before the rash breaks out, and they are diagnostic for measles. Unfortunately for us, they go away about the time the rash starts, so it’s not terribly clear at this point.” He pulled his flashlight back and pulled down the bottom lid of Dylan’s right eye, which was red. “Yep, just what I would have expected.” He let go and put his flashlight back into his white lab coat. “I’ve not seen a case of measles in a long, long time. But your son . . .” He sounded more intrigued at having a real-life specimen than accusatory toward me for not vaccinating. “He’s got all the classic hallmarks. We need to proceed with the strong assumption that he does have the measles and go from there.”

He looked at Emily. “I’m going to put in a quick call to Dr. Welton. I saw his car out back. I’d really like him to come take a look. In the meantime, I’ll order the labs so you can get started.” He picked up a clipboard from the counter on the far wall, spent some time writing on the top paper, then handed it to Emily.