Wednesday was a long day.
Alice did not want breakfast.
Her cheeks were flushed, but she shivered under the blankets.
Elias took her temperature, encouraged her to drink, and called the clinic again.
The nurse asked several questions.
Was Alice breathing normally?
Was she alert?
Was she drinking water?
Elias answered as carefully as he could.
At that moment, Alice could still speak easily, though she was tired.
The nurse urged him to bring her in for an examination that day.
He found a neighborhood urgent-care office that would see her that afternoon.
Getting there was difficult.
Ben had the family’s newer vehicle, and Elias’s old pickup, brought from Wyoming, had become unreliable in the city cold.
He wrapped Alice in her red coat and took a taxi, watching the fare rise all the way across town.
At the clinic, they waited while other patients came and went.
Alice leaned against his side.
“Are we going home soon?”
“I hope so, little one.”
A clinician examined her, listened to her chest, and explained that she appeared to have a respiratory infection.
Her condition did not yet seem severe enough to require admission, but she needed close watching.
The clinician gave Elias clear instructions about fever, fluids, breathing changes, and when to seek emergency help.
Elias listened intently.
He had always been careful with sick animals.
He knew how quickly something small could become serious.
But caring for Alice frightened him in a way no sick calf ever had.
At the front desk, he learned that their insurance coverage was not as settled as Ben had believed.
Some paperwork from the family’s move was still incomplete.
The clinic visit and prescriptions cost more than Elias expected.
He paid what he could.
Then he looked at the little pile of bills remaining in his wallet.
He had less than forty dollars.
On the ride home, Alice fell asleep against his arm.
He stared out at the buildings sliding past the taxi window.
In Wyoming, a man could ride for an hour and see nothing but fields, hills, and sky.
Here, thousands of windows glowed around him.
Thousands of people lived behind them.
Still, Elias had never felt quite so alone.
He thought of Ruth.
He thought of Mara.
He wondered what either of them would have said.
Ruth would have told him to keep his head clear.
Mara, if she had become the doctor she dreamed of being, would have told him which symptoms mattered.
He wished he could call them both.
Instead, he carried Alice upstairs and settled her in bed.
That evening, Ben called from Ohio.
“How’s my girl?”
Elias looked into the bedroom.
“Still sick.”
“Did the clinic say what it was?”
“They think it’s a chest infection.
Told me what to watch for.”
“I can turn around after this delivery.
Might take me most of the night.”
Elias hesitated.
Ben had already missed work earlier that month when Alice needed care.
Another missed delivery could cost him his job.
“Finish your route,” Elias said.
“Dad, she’s my daughter.”
“I know that.”
“Then let me come home.”
Elias sat down.
He was tired of being the man who always insisted everything was under control.
He was tired of making other people guess what he needed.
But the old habit was difficult to break.
“Ben, listen.
If she gets worse, I’ll take her straight to the hospital.
I won’t wait.”
“Promise?”
Elias looked at Alice.
“I promise.
I won’t let pride get between that little girl and the help she needs.”
He heard Ben breathe out slowly.
“All right.
Call me if anything changes.
Doesn’t matter what time.”
“I will.”
They said goodnight.
Elias heated water for tea and sat in the dark kitchen.
For a while, he listened to the refrigerator hum.
Then he took the photograph of Mara from the tin box and placed it beside his coffee cup.
He studied the smiling young woman.
“Your mother always said you’d be a doctor,” he whispered.
His voice cracked slightly.
“I hope she was right.”
He was not sure why he said it.
Perhaps because he had been thinking about doctors all day.
Perhaps because Mara had never felt farther away.
Or perhaps because, somewhere deep inside him, he had finally grown tired of pretending he did not miss her.
He touched the edge of the photograph.
“I’m sorry, girl.”
No one answered.
At a little after ten that night, Alice woke coughing.
Elias heard her from the kitchen and hurried down the hallway.
She was sitting up in bed, clutching the blanket.
“Grandpa?”
“I’m here.”
“My chest hurts.”
He sat beside her.
“Can you show me where?”
She placed her small hand against the middle of her chest.
He listened to her breathing.
It sounded fast and uncomfortable.
