Spring Fever

“I don’t mind,” A

“Now, wait a minute,” Celia snapped, not about to let A

Pokey turned to go. “Not yet, you’re not.” She said it under her breath, just loud enough for Celia to hear.

“Daddy,” Sophie whimpered, reaching out an arm for her father.

“Right here, sugar,” Mason said, stepping to A

“Will it hurt?” Sophie asked, huge tears rolling down her pale cheeks.

“Not at all,” Celia said brightly. “It’ll be fun! I’ll get them to blast the siren so everybody knows you’re coming.”

“It might hurt a little bit,” A

“Okay,” Sophie said wearily. “Only, don’t let me go, A

“I won’t, baby,” A

Mason reached over and gently removed the little girl’s glasses, which had slid off the end of her nose, tucking them into the pocket of his tux jacket.

The door flew open again, and Sallie Bayless bustled in with Davis in her wake. “Pokey says there’s some talk that it might be her appendix? And an ambulance is on the way? I just called Max Kaufman. He was on the third tee at the golf club when I reached him,” she told her son. “He’s going to meet you at the emergency room.”

“Max Kaufman?” Celia asked.

“Chief of surgery at the hospital,” Sallie said. “A very old family friend. He should have been sitting right out front in one of those pews, but Max is a hopeless philistine. Says he never goes to weddings or funerals. But he’s a wonderful doctor, isn’t he, Mason? He’ll take very good care of the child.”

“Mason and A

Sallie shook her head. “Celia, dear, I think it would be better if you and I went on over to the club to greet our guests. Mason has his cell, and I have mine, and he can keep us posted.”

“I don’t know,” Celia said, her brow furrowed prettily. “I think I need to be with Sophie…”

“Look, y’all, we don’t all need to go to the hospital,” Davis spoke up. “Mama, I’ll take you and Celia over to the club for the reception. If there’s nothin’ seriously wrong with Sophie, Pokey can bring Mason back over there once Doc Kaufman gets it figured out. Hell, maybe it’s nothing. It’d be a shame to cancel the party if it’s only a bellyache.”

He glanced toward the doorway, where Celia’s sultry maid of honor leaned against the doorjamb, looking bored.

“Good idea,” Mason nodded in agreement. He grasped Celia’s arm and gently steered her toward the door.

“Well,” Celia said hesitantly, “If you really think you can do without me…”

Mason walked her to the door. His hand rested lightly on the small of her back, and he brushed a kiss on Celia’s forehead. “I knew you’d understand. Look, I’ll call you the minute we know something. Maybe it’s not really anything serious. In which case, I’ll be at the club in an hour or so. Okay?”

Celia responded by wrapping her arms tightly around Mason’s neck, molding herself to him, and kissing him deeply and passionately.

Sallie Bayless looked away politely. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Celia, dear, I think we’d better go. Your great-aunt is out there, and she’s beside herself with worry…”

In the distance, they heard the approaching keen of a siren.

Mason peeled himself off the front of his bride’s low-cut gown. “Better go,” he said.

“Call me,” Celia repeated, reluctantly allowing herself to be towed away.

*   *   *

When they were alone again, Mason went back to the settee, where A

“Let me take her,” he whispered, holding out his arms.

“You’ll ruin your tux,” A

“You really think it’s her appendix?” he asked.

A

Mason blanched. “Maybe we should take her to Raleigh. Max Kaufman is a good enough country doc, from what I know, but Passcoe Memorial is just a little old podunk hospital with, what, fifty beds? Maybe she should see a pediatric specialist…”

The siren was getting closer now.

“Mason, Passcoe Memorial is a fine facility,” A

Pokey rushed into the room, pink-faced and breathless.

“Okay, the cars are moved, and the ambulance is pulling around front,” she said. She put one hand to Sophie’s cheek. “Oh wow, she really does have a fever,” she said. “How long has she been asleep?”

“Just a few minutes,” Mason said.

“Where’s the bride?” Pokey asked, looking around the room. “Checking her makeup?”

“Not fu

“Not a chance,” Pokey said. “Pete’s taking the boys over there, but I’m going to the hospital.”

6

Geographically, the distance from the church to the hospital, which was located on the bypass just outside the Passcoe city limits, was only seventeen miles.

To A

“She’s hurting! Can’t you give her something?” Mason growled at the emergency medical technician riding in the passenger seat.

“Sorry, Mr. Bayless, but with kids this young, we just make sure their pulse and breathing are stable,” the EMT said. “We’ll be at the hospital in fifteen minutes, and they’ll probably give her something then.”

“Daddy,” Sophie whimpered. “A

She was awake again, and she looked terrified. A

“We’re taking a ride to the hospital, sweetpea,” A

Mason laughed despite himself. The “fun car” was what Sophie called his restored candy-apple red 1972 Chevelle convertible. It had been Gle

The convertible was currently garaged in a truck bay at the bottling plant, brought out only occasionally, for Sunday drives to the coast, or as a special treat for Sophie, because there wasn’t room for it in the two-car garage at the house, what with his own Yukon and Celia’s Saab. And also because Celia had taken an instant disliking to—and distrust of—what she called his “middle-aged crazy car,” or, worse, “your pimp-mobile.”