“Oh?” They went into the house.
“He wants me to help him in his woodshop tomorrow.”
“Really?”
Jackson read the message to her, and sure enough, it sounded like he wanted an assistant. “Can I call him back and say yes?”
She shrugged. “I guess so.” She waited as Jackson talked to Caleb, and then he handed her the phone. “Hello?”
“I just want to make sure you were okay with this.” He explained how he needed a helper to do some hand-sanding on a number of small jobs. “I’m a little overwhelmed with several commissioned projects that need to be finished by Christmas—putting in some pretty long days. Anyway, I think an extra pair of hands might help. And I remembered how helpful Jackson was when I hung the Christmas lights.”
She looked at her son’s hopeful face. “Well, Jackson seems quite interested in helping you out and I’m fine with it.” It was quickly settled—she would drop him in town tomorrow morning and Caleb would bring him home in the afternoon.
Jackson had just put away his phone when Oliver started barking frantically on the back porch. Taylor was pounding on the back door. “We need help,” she told them with frightened eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Jackson asked.
“My mom. She’s really sick. I called Uncle Greg, but he hasn’t called back. And I’m scared.”
Wendy grabbed her coat and car keys. “Let’s take the car in case she needs to go to the doctor.”
They followed Taylor into the house to find Kara lying motionless on the sofa and Tessa standing beside her. “Kara?” Wendy asked. “Are you okay?”
Kara just groaned. “Sick,” she mumbled. “Sick ... my stomach.”
“She’s been throwing up,” Taylor told Wendy. “A lot.”
Wendy didn’t know what to do, so she felt Kara’s forehead, which was cool and clammy. “Should we take you to the doctor? Or the hospital?”
“No, no.” Kara moaned. “Can’t afford it.”
“Do you know what made you sick?” Wendy hoped it wasn’t alcohol or a hangover, but knew that was a possibility.
“Bad food,” Kara said.
“What did you eat? Do you know?”
“Leftovers.”
“I bet she brought something home from work last night.” Taylor ran into the kitchen, then returned with a white take-out box. “Sometimes she brings food home.” She held out the box like evidence then sniffed it. “Some kind of fish, I think.”
“Is this what made you sick?” Wendy held the box so Kara could see.
“Ugh—yes—swordfish.”
Wendy pulled out her phone and was soon talking to a poison control center. The woman was just telling her to get Kara in for medical help when Kara’s brother burst into the house, demanding to know what was wrong. Taylor tearfully told him, and Wendy relayed what she’d just heard from the poison control woman.
“I’ll take her to the ER,” Greg told Wendy. “Can you take the girls to your house?”
“Yes, of course.” Wendy nodded. “They can spend the night.”
Greg scooped up Kara, whisking her away. Then Wendy helped Tessa and Taylor gather some overnight things. Their little house was similar to hers, but it was sparse and barren—impoverished. She realized as they were locking up that it was also cold and damp—a rental cabin that had never been improved for year-round occupancy. What a sad way to live.
Wendy was glad she’d cleaned out the third bedroom for the Realtor’s visit. She’d sorted, relocated, and given away all the stored items until she’d finally exposed a full-sized bed and several other pieces of bedroom furniture. As she led the girls to this “guest room,” Wendy tried to reassure them that their mom would be okay. “Your uncle will make sure she gets good care.” She watched as they set their things on the bed.
“We should all pray she gets well soon,” Jackson told them.
“Good thinking,” Wendy said. “Let’s do that now.” They all bowed their heads, praying that Kara would get good help, get well, and come home soon.
