her a squeeze that he hoped was comforting. Comforting the way Miss Vickers’s touch on his arm had been.
Shaking off that stray thought, he looked down at his niece. “Don’t worry, kitten, the doctor is going to come and fix you right up.”
At least he sincerely hoped so.
Riley set Pru on one of the two narrow beds in the room and helped her remove her shoes.
His thoughts turned back to that fleeting touch Miss Vickers had given him. For just a moment there in the dining room, as she’d taken a moment to try to reassure him, he’d had a sense of what it would be like not to have to face all this on his own, to have someone at his side willing to support him in difficult times, willing to shoulder some of the responsibility.
It had felt good.
But it wasn’t real. That kind of relationship didn’t really exist, at least not for him.
As promised, Miss Vickers was ushering the doctor into the room in a matter of minutes. The introductions were made quickly, then the white-haired physician turned to Pru with an avuncular smile.
“Well now, young lady, I understand you’re not feeling well.”
“No, sir.”
“Let me just have a look at you and see if we can do something to make you feel better.” He turned to Riley. “Why don’t you wait in the parlor? Miss Vickers here will assist me.”
Riley started to protest, but Miss Vickers took his arm and gently led him to the door. “Don’t worry, Doc Pratt knows what he’s doing. He’s been looking out for kids in this town since before I was born.”
A moment later Riley found himself on the other side of a closed bedroom door. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he headed back down the hall.
He found Noah and Mrs. Flanagan in the parlor.
His nephew immediately popped up and rushed to him. “What did the doctor say? Is Pru gonna be okay?”
Realizing Noah was remembering his mother’s illness and death, Riley placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Of course she is. You heard Miss Vickers—kids get sick all the time.”
Noah seemed only partially reassured.
Mrs. Flanagan spoke up then. “Your uncle is correct. I remember when my own two boys were little, they would get fevers and chills so often I near wore a path to Dr. Pratt’s place. And my John has grown up to be a fine soldier in the army.”
“Your son’s a soldier?” Noah crossed back to Mrs. Flanagan.
She nodded. “A lieutenant, actually.”
“I have some tin soldiers.”
“Do you now. John had a set, as well.”
As Mrs. Flanagan began to regale Noah with stories of some of her sons’ exploits, Riley caught her eye and mouthed a heartfelt thank-you. The woman’s expression softened for a moment as she nodded, then she resumed her conversation with his nephew.
While the two talked, Riley moved to the window and stared out into the shadowy dusk, trying to fight off panic. He should have been paying closer attention, should have noticed sooner that something was wrong. He’d promised the children’s mother he’d look after them and keep them safe. What if there was something seriously wrong with Pru?
Father above, please keep Pru safe. She’s just a little girl and she’s already been through so much. I know dragging them from town to town is not good for them and it might even be what caused this illness she has. But I’m doing the best that I can to keep ’em safe. If there’s another way, please show it to me. But please, don’t take her from us.
It occurred to him it was providence that he’d been here tonight. He would have managed on his own, of course—got the hotel clerk to send for the doctor. But the way the two women had immediately taken charge—seeing that Pru was made comfortable, fetching the doctor, keeping Noah entertained and distracted—had been a true blessing.
Miss Vickers, especially, had a comforting presence, a way of calming the children and setting them at ease.
Dr. Pratt finally stepped into the room, with Miss Vickers at his side, and Riley immediately came to attention, moving toward them. “How is she?”
He spied Miss Vickers’s sympathetic expression, but something in her eyes communicated that it would all be okay.
A heartbeat later, the doctor gave him the diagnosis. “She has chicken pox.”
Riley grabbed the arm of the chair beside him and blindly sat down. Chicken pox! He vaguely remembered having that himself as a kid. He’d pulled through just fine. And neither Dr. Pratt nor Miss Vickers seemed unduly concerned, so that was a good sign.
A number of emotions washed over him—relief that it wasn’t something worse, panic over the thought of nursing a sick child, worry over what this would do to his plans to move on quickly.
He looked up at the doctor, trying to pull his thoughts together. Then, mindful of Noah, he stood and crossed to the hall. To his relief, Mrs. Flanagan said something to his nephew, pulling the boy’s attention from the doctor.
“How serious is it?” Riley asked.
“Most children get chicken pox at some point and come though unscathed, except for a few scars as souvenirs.”
Relieved for at least this glimmer of good news, he let out a long breath. “And you’re sure that’s what it is?”
Dr. Pratt nodded. “I’ve seen this countless times before. Besides, there are a few spots already forming on her back and neck.” He gave Riley a penetrating look. “You will need to make certain your niece is closely cared for until she recovers. And you should be prepared for your nephew to start exhibiting signs in a few days, as well. The disease is easily spread from child to child. Which also means you should keep the children isolated as much as possible.”
Riley jammed his fists in his pockets, feeling as if he was in way over his head. He didn’t know anything about caring for sick kids. So far he’d only had to contend with sniffles and cuts and scrapes.
The doctor continued. “Your niece is a very sick little girl right now, but don’t worry. In a week or so, she’ll be good as new.”
“A week!”
“Actually, it’ll probably be a little longer. It usually takes ten days to two weeks for chicken pox to run its course.” He eyed Riley sympathetically. “And then there is your nephew.”
Riley felt the panic tighten in his chest. Caring for two sick kids, for at least two weeks—how in the world was he going to manage that?
Dr. Pratt glanced Mrs. Flanagan’s way and raised his voice to carry across the room. “How are you doing, Irene? Is that leg giving you any more trouble?”
The
