“101.7.”
“Could it be from being outside?” he asked.
“She wasn’t cold. She was bundled up.”
Kate put the thermometer down and went back to her daughter. Alex could hear her talking softly to Lily, pulling up the blanket, the child answering in a sleepy voice.
He stepped onto the porch and checked his phone. One weak bar, fading in and out. No internet. Then he remembered the landline in Mrs. Parker’s kitchen. Old-fashioned, but working. Mrs. Parker had mentioned that the line held even when cell service didn’t.
He went back inside.
“I’m going to Mrs. Parker’s. I’ll call a doctor I know in D.C.”
Kate looked up.
“You know a pediatrician?”
“I do. Good one.” He was already putting on his coat. “Take her temperature again in half an hour. If it goes higher, start wiping her down with cool water. Not cold.”
“I know,” she said. But not sharply. Just as a fact.
“I know you know. I’m just saying what I’d do while I make the call.”
He went out.
Mrs. Parker wasn’t surprised to see him late. She opened the door right away, as if she hadn’t gone to bed. Led him to the phone in the hall and said, “Talk as long as you need,” then tactfully disappeared into the kitchen.
Alex dialed Dr. Ben Carter. They had known each other for twelve years, back to when Ben was finishing residency. Now he ran pediatrics at a good private clinic in the city. Alex had once helped him with a lease on office space, and Ben had said ever since, “Call if you need something.”
The phone was picked up on the fourth ring.
“Ben Carter.”
“Ben, it’s Alex Bennett. Sorry for the hour.”
“Alex. Everything okay?”
“With me, yes. There’s a little girl here, about three and a half. Fever’s 101.7 and climbing through the evening. She’s been sluggish, refused food, says her head hurts. No runny nose, no cough.”
Pause. Ben was thinking.
“Has anyone looked at her throat?”
“I’ll check.”
Alex covered the receiver and called toward the kitchen:
“Mrs. Parker, do you have a flashlight?”
“In the desk drawer. I’ll get it.”
A minute later he was back on the line with Ben.
“Got a flashlight.”
“Good. Tell the mother to shine it in her throat, have her say ‘ah,’ and look for redness, white spots, or coating on the tonsils. Then call me back.”
Alex returned to his mother’s house with the flashlight. Kate took it without extra words and went to Lily. The little girl was already sleeping restlessly, turning over, frowning. Kate woke her gently and asked her to open her mouth. Lily obeyed, sleepy and annoyed.
“Throat’s red,” Kate said. “No white patches. No spots.”
“Okay.”
Alex memorized that and went back to the phone.
Ben listened.
“Most likely viral, not bacterial. No white patches is good. First thing: fever reducer. Do they have any in the house?”
“Kate,” Alex called from the hall, “do you have children’s fever medicine?”
“Yes, liquid. Almost a full bottle.”
“Yes,” Alex relayed.
“Good. Give it by weight, according to the label. If it gets over 102.2, use cool washcloths, don’t pile blankets on her. Push fluids—water, diluted juice, weak tea if she’ll take it. No antibiotics. Don’t start anything on your own. If by morning it’s still high or she develops new symptoms—rash, vomiting, stiff neck—call 911, distance or no distance. Got it?”
