Chapter 24: Both Hands

It was ten past midnight on Christmas Eve when we pulled up at the duplex on Chester Street.

Dalton had the engine off and his door open before I got my seat belt unbuckled.

I got Trudy's car seat out of the back and followed him up the path.

Colette had the door open before he knocked.

She was in a gray sweatshirt, with her hair half out of its knot, holding Arlen against her shoulder.

He was red-faced and limp, and his breath came fast.

"A hundred and three," she said. "I gave him the drops, and it went up. I didn't know who else to call."

"You called the right people," I said.

I meant it, and she heard that I did.

Dalton took Arlen from her without asking.

He put the back of his hand to the baby's cheek, then to his forehead, and his face set.

"Get your coat," he said. "We're going to the hospital."

"Is it bad?"

"I don't know. I'd rather not guess in the living room."

I put my own hand on Trudy's head in her seat, because I couldn't help it.

She was warm, but not hot. She was awake, looking at the ceiling light.

"Is she all right?" Colette asked.

"I don't know that either," I said. "She's eight weeks old. We'll have them both looked at."

The emergency room smelled of floor cleaner and burnt coffee.

A woman in blue scrubs took Arlen's temperature and said "Okay, buddy" in a calm voice, and took Trudy's right after.

Trudy's was normal.

The nurse smiled at me. "You've been bundling her."

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