She waited not so patiently until the woman came on the line. Delaney explained the situation, then said, “I was hoping you could get her in.”
“I wish we could,” the woman said. “Unfortunately, this late in the day, we’re booked up. The earliest we could see her would be tomorrow morning.”
Delaney’s stomach dropped. “What do you recommend?”
“Hold on. Let me check with the doctor.”
While Delaney waited, she found the thermometer and took Charlotte’s temperature.
A hundred and one, which wouldn’t worry Delaney if not for the sudden rash.
The nurse came back on the line. “The doctor wants you to take her to the emergency room.”
“Okay, thanks.” Delaney ended the call, seeing Charlotte scratching her arms. “Don’t scratch, love.” She gently moved Charlotte’s hands.
“It itches.”
“I know. We’re going to get you some help.” Delaney called for an Uber, then gathered Charlotte’s insurance card and asnack. She called Mr. Aylett’s office and left a message with his assistant.
“I don’t want you to interrupt him, but let him know I’m taking Charlotte to the ER because of a rash. It’s probably nothing, so don’t alarm him.”
She hung up, praying she was right, that the sudden fever and rash weren’t anything serious.
An hour later, Delaney sat in the emergency room waiting area with Charlotte curled against her side, her fever-warm body radiating heat through Delaney’s sweater and jeans. The welts had spread, creeping up Charlotte’s neck toward her jawline in angry red patches.
“I don’t like it here.” Charlotte’s voice was barely louder than a whisper.
“I know, sweetheart. But the doctors are going to help you feel better.” Delaney smoothed damp curls away from Charlotte’s forehead, trying to project calm while her own anxiety spiked.
A woman across from them bounced a crying baby while a toddler climbed over the plastic chairs. An elderly man in the corner dozed, his head against the window behind him. The waiting area buzzed with the low hum of worry and pain, and Delaney prayed for Charlotte and everyone else who needed medical care.
“Charlotte Aylett?” A nurse appeared at the reception desk, clipboard in hand.
“That’s us.” Delaney gathered their things and urged Charlotte to walk with her.
The nurse led them through a maze of hallways to a small examination room painted a cheerful yellow. Charlotte clung to Delaney’s hand as the nurse took her vitals.
“Her temp’s one oh one point three.” She glanced at the rash. “That looks uncomfortable.” At Charlotte’s nod, she said, “The doctor will fix you right up.” To Delaney, she said, “He’ll be in soon.”
When the door closed behind the nurse, Charlotte’s lip trembled. “Where’s Uncle Noah?”
“He’s at work, sweetheart. I left him a message.” Maybe she should have called him on his cell phone rather than calling the office. But he’d specifically told her he’d be busy this afternoon. He’d already sacrificed enough time with them that morning, and Delaney could handle a trip to the ER.
Delaney stroked Charlotte’s hair, careful to avoid the red patches that now mottled her forehead. “He’ll come as fast as he can.”
“I want him now,” Charlotte whispered, her voice cracking.
The raw need in those four words squeezed Delaney’s heart. Despite all their progress, despite Charlotte’s growing attachment to her, in moments of crisis, she still wanted the one person who had proved he would never abandon her.
“I know, love. I know.” Delaney gently held the girl’s hands to keep her from scratching.
Charlotte leaned against Delaney’s side on the exam table, her small body trembling. The paper crinkled beneath them as Delaney stroked her hair, humming a hymn her mother had sung when she was sick.
“I’m sorry I ran away,” Charlotte whispered, her voice small and scratchy. “I was just playing with the butterflies.”
“I know, sweetheart. I forgive you.”
A soft knock preceded the door opening. A young doctor with dark hair and a strong jaw stepped in, his white coat crisp over blue scrubs. “I’m Dr. Wright,” he said.
