Summer of Love Marie Ferrarella (easy books to read in english TXT) 📖

In Everett’s estimation, the boy couldn’t have been any older than four.

Chapter Seven

Lila thought that Everett had dropped something when she saw him crouching down at the door of their first house call—single mother Mrs. Quinn. The next moment, she saw that what he was doing was trying to get down to the level of the little boy who stood across the threshold.

“Does your mom know you open the door to strangers?” Everett asked the boy.

The little boy shook his head from side to side, sending some of his baby-fine, soft blond hair moving back and forth about his face. “No. Mama’s asleep next to my little brother.”

“You’re very articulate,” Everett told the little boy. “How old are you?”

“Four,” the boy answered, holding up four fingers so that there would be no mistaking what he said. “What’s ar-tic—, ar-tic—” Giving up trying to pronounce the word, he approached it from another angle. “What you said,” he asked, apparently untroubled by his inability to say the word.

“It means that you talk very well,” Everett explained. Then he rose back to his feet. Glancing toward Lila so that the boy would know she was included, he requested, “Why don’t you take us to see them? I’m a doctor,” he added.

That seemed to do the trick. The little boy opened the door further, allowing them to come in. “Good, ’cause Mama said they need a doctor—her and Bobby,” the four-year-old tacked on.

Impressed at how well Everett was interacting with the boy, Lila let him go on talking as she and Everett followed him through the cluttered house.

“Is Bobby your brother?” Everett asked.

This time the blond head bobbed up and down. “Uh-huh.”

“And what’s your name?” Everett asked, wanting to be able to address their precocious guide properly.

“Andy,” the boy answered just as he reached the entrance to a minuscule bedroom. “We’re here,” he announced like the leader of an expedition at journey’s end.

There was a thin, frail-looking dark-haired woman lying on top of the bed, her eyes closed, her arm wrapped around a little boy who was tucked inside the bed. The woman looked as if the years had been hard on her.

Andy tiptoed over to her and tried to wake her up by shaking her arm.

“Mama, people are here. Mama?” he repeated, peering into her face. He looked worried because her eyes weren’t opening.

Lila finally spoke up. “Mrs. Quinn?” she said, addressing the boys’ mother. “It’s Lila. I brought a doctor with me.”

The young woman’s eyelashes fluttered as if she was trying to open them, but the effort was too much for her. She moaned something unintelligible in response to Lila’s announcement.

Before Lila could say anything either to the woman or to Everett, he took over.

Moving Lila aside, he felt for the woman’s pulse. Frowning, he went on to take her temperature next, placing a small, clear strip across her forehead.

“No thermometer?” Lila asked.

“This works just as well,” he assured her. Looking at the strip, he nodded. “She’s running a low-grade fever.” Checking the boys’ mother out quickly, he told Lila, “I can’t give her a flu shot because she already seems to have it. But I can lower her fever with a strong shot of acetaminophen.”

As Everett spoke, he took out a syringe and prepared it.

Andy’s eyes followed his every move, growing steadily wider. “Is my Mama gonna die?” he asked, fear throbbing in his voice.

“No, Andy. I’m going to make your mom all better. But you’re going to have to be brave for all three of you,” Everett told him. “Think you can do that?” he asked, talking to him the way he would to any adult.

The boy solemnly nodded his head. He held his breath as he watched his mother getting the injection.

“Good boy.” Everett moved on to the woman’s other son. “Looks like he’s got it, too,” he said to Lila. Turning to Andy, he asked him, “Andy, do you know how long your mom and brother have been sick?”

Andy made a face as he tried to remember. He never took his eyes off the syringe, watching as the doctor gave his brother an injection next.

“Not long,” Andy answered. “We were watching Captain Jack yesterday when Bobby said he didn’t feel so good. Mama carried him to bed and she laid down, too.”

Everett turned to look at Lila. “Captain Jack?” he questioned.

“It’s a syndicated cartoon,” Lila told him. “I think it airs around eight or so in the morning. One of the women in the office has a little boy who likes to watch it,” she explained in case he wondered why she would know something like that.

“So Mrs. Quinn could have been sick for a couple of days?” Everett questioned, attempting to get a handle on how long mother and son had been down with the illness.

Lila was about to narrow it down a little more. “Mrs. Quinn called my office yesterday, but I didn’t have anyone I could send.”

Everett nodded, taking the information in. “You can only do as much as you can do,” he told her. He knew Lila would beat herself up but it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t make doctors appear out of thin air.

He performed a few tests on Mrs. Quinn and Bobby, and then he turned in Andy’s direction. “It’s your turn, Andy.”

Andy looked totally leery as he slanted a long glance in the doctor’s direction. “My turn for what?” he asked in a small voice.

“You get to be the one in your family to get a flu shot,” Everett told him.

“But I don’t want a shot. I’m not sick,” Andy cried, his voice rising in panic.

“No, you’re not,” Everett agreed. “And if you let me give you a flu shot, you’ll stay that way. Otherwise...” His voice trailed off dramatically.

Andy tried to enlist Lila to help him. She was just returning into the bedroom, bringing bottles of drinking water she’d brought with her in her car.

“But won’t a flu shot give me the flu?” the boy asked,