we are,” the nurse said as the elevator doors opened. “You’ll be in room three, Carly. We call it the Butterfly Room because it has pictures of butterflies painted on the walls.”
“Really?” Carly asked. She wiggled her way out of Beth’s arms.
“Really,” the nurse said. She pointed to a doorway. “Here, come see for yourself.”
Beth watched as Carly bounded into the room. Anyone looking at her daughter wouldn’t think she’d done anything wrong. In fact, Beth hadn’t thought so, either, until she’d seen the thin, telltale green circle around Carly’s mouth. Carly had denied everything, but a quick check of her tongue had confirmed Beth’s worst fears—that Carly had eaten the green cold medicine. The push-through plastic had been empty, and for the life of her, Beth couldn’t remember how many pills had been left.
At least the pediatric ER rooms weren’t like those downstairs. Beth had seen enough of those cold, sterile rooms to last her a lifetime. Here, at least, the rooms had colorful murals on the walls. Carly was currently counting green butterflies and the nurse had put a Disney princess movie in before she’d left.
“Hello, Carly, I’m Nurse Elaine.” A new nurse stepped into the room. Unlike her younger counterpart’s, Elaine’s scrubs were bright pink. “Let me take a look at you. Can you put this thermometer under your tongue for me?” Elaine held out a wand attached to a spiral cord, which was then connected to a rectangular device the nurse held in her other hand. Carly opened her mouth. “See, I knew you could.You are such a big girl.”
The thermometer beeped and Elaine withdrew it. “No fever. That’s a great sign.”
Relief filled Beth.
“Now, Carly, your doctor is named Dr. Searle. It’s like girl only with an S.”
“Searle,” Carly said dutifully.
“Very good,” Elaine said. “He’s going to be right in. You enjoy your movie. I like this one.”
“Me, too,” Carly said. She began to clap and sing as the characters performed a musical number.
Elaine stepped toward Beth. “Have you recalled how many she took?”
Beth shook her head. “No.”
“Well, Dr. Searle will be in shortly. We have an injury requiring stitching and he’s consulting with the plastic surgeon. If your daughter’s condition changes in any way, push this call button.”
“Okay.” Beth focused her attention first on the call button and, after Elaine left, to the movie. Not even two minutes went by before she noticed a movement outside the doorway.
And when Carly’s doctor stepped in, Beth decided that it really was one of the worst days of her life.
Dr. Quinton Searle—for that was what was stitched on his white coat—was gazing right through her, his concentration on her child.
“Hi, Carly,” Dr. Searle said. “Hi, Carly’s mom.”
“Hi, Dr. Searle!” Carly said.
“Did you read my name?” He pointed to the blue stitching above his heart.
“No! Elaine taught it to me.”
“You’re smart and honest,” he said. He went over to her. “I like smart and honest. You’re pretty, too.”
Carly giggled and her cheeks reddened. Even she wasn’t immune to Dr. Searle’s charm.
“So you ate some green medicine.”
“It was a bad thing to do,” Carly said with a solemn nod.
“Very bad,” Dr. Searle agreed.
Carly blinked once at his serious tone. “Am I going to die?”
His hand stilled from taking a tongue depressor out of a clear plastic dispenser and he frowned slightly. “No. Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“Because my daddy died in a hospital. He had cancer.”
He shook his head. “Of course not. You won’t die. You swallowed some medicine that you shouldn’t have, but your mommy brought you in here and I’m going to make you as good as new. To do that, though, I have to do some tests. Can you stick out your tongue for me?”
Beth remained standing as the doctor performed a series of tests. Carly’s response to him pained her. She’d known that her four-year-old daughter missed her father, but she hadn’t realized until now how much Carly missed simple male attention.
Beth missed it, too, but she was all grown up and understood that the world wasn’t fair.
Carly didn’t.
“Well, Carly, I think I have a solution to your problem. I’ll definitely be able to fix you all up,” said Quinton.
Carly gave him a hopeful smile. “Really?”
“Really,” Dr. Quinton Searle said returning Carly’s grin.
Then his expression grew serious. “But it won’t be pleasant. In fact, you’ll need to drink something that tastes pretty bad.”
“I can do it!” Carly’s blond pigtail bobbed as she nodded.
“I bet you will. I’ll have Elaine get the special drink. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” Carly watched as he left. Her blue eyes remained wide as she turned to her mother. “He’s as handsome as Prince Eric, don’t you think, Mommy? They have the same dark hair.”
“I think Princess Ariel is a very lucky lady,” Beth said, sidestepping the question. She didn’t have to look too long at Dr. Quinton Searle to see he fit “tall, dark and handsome” to a tee. She estimated his height at six foot three, and under the white coat she could tell he had broad shoulders that tapered to a slim waist. Even Randy at his peak hadn’t been so physically fit.
“Princess Ariel is lucky,” Carly agreed.
Beth reached out and brushed her daughter’s bangs away from her forehead. “You’re lucky, too, if all you have to do is drink some special liquid.”
Carly nodded. “I know. I’m sorry, Mommy.”
“I love you,” Beth said.
“Me, too! Oh, look, here’s where Prince Eric saves Ariel from the Sea Witch!”
Beth smiled slightly, glad that Carly’s attention was diverted. Too bad there weren’t real princes who came in to save princesses. Not that Beth thought of herself as a princess. Princesses didn’t have dull dishwater-blond hair, tired blue eyes, and five extra pounds on their hips. And her prince had died before fully saving her, if he had ever been going to save her at all.
She had to get over her melancholy. She couldn’t fault Randy for her daily struggle; she could only fault herself. She’d been the one to insist they get married when
