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The music kept playing. Father Jolly held a whispered conference with Pete and Davis, who were helplessly shaking their heads, looking around for some kind of direction. Celia reached the altar, but there was nobody there to meet her, because her groom was rushing toward the side exit. She stood, momentarily stu
“Oh my God,” Pokey whispered. “What on earth?” People were murmuring, heads turning, but mostly they were frozen in place.
A
As she reached the door to the robing room, she heard Father Jolly’s voice from the lectern. “Uh, folks,” he said tentatively. “We’ve got a sick little girl on our hands here. If you would, I’d like to ask you all to bow your heads and pray for God’s blessing.”
* * *
She found Mason seated on a brocade loveseat in the robing room, cradling Sophie across his lap. She was moaning, and her face was gray and beaded with perspiration. Mason was smoothing her hair with one hand, and fumbling with a phone on a table with the other.
“Here,” A
Sophie whimpered a little, but settled quickly into A
“Oh my God,” Mason said, dropping the phone. “What … what should I do?”
A
“It’s okay, baby,” A
The child nodded. A
“Jesus,” Mason said, shakily. “What do you think’s wrong?”
The robing-room door opened, and Celia rushed in. “Is she all right?” Celia started to ask. When she saw the vomit spattered across Sophie and A
“Where does it hurt, honey?” she asked softly. “Tell Celia.”
Sophie moaned and pressed her feverish face against A
Celia patted Sophie’s damp curls. “Poor baby.”
She gave Mason an exasperated shake of the head. “She ate a lot of junk at lunch today. I personally saw your brother sneaking her at least two bowls of that damned Quixie ice cream. It’s probably just a combination of an upset tummy and all the excitement.”
“You think?” Mason asked hopefully, his hand hovering over the phone.
Celia looked over at A
“I don’t think so,” A
“Excuse me?” Celia tilted her head, as though she hadn’t heard correctly. “We’ve got five hundred people sitting in that church out there. We’ve got a soloist from the North Carolina Symphony, and over at the country club, we’ve got lobster thermidor and a steamship of roast beef. My great-aunt Eleanor flew in this morning from Kansas City. With an oxygen tank.”
There was a quick knock at the door, and Father Jolly poked his head inside. “How’s the patient?” he inquired. “I hate to intrude, but people are concerned.” He shrugged apologetically. “Mason, your mother and sister wanted me to see how the little girl is doing. Mrs. Bayless doesn’t want anybody to panic.”
Celia stood and hiked up the sagging bodice of her dress. “Tell Sallie everything is fine.” She gave A
He is mine. I am in charge. The show must go on.
Mason glanced from his ex-wife to his next. He cleared his throat. “Well … uh…”
As if to settle the matter, Sophie moaned, coughed, and barfed again.
A
“Fine. You two do what you need to do. But in the meantime, Mason, I think you’d better call 911.” She was making a deliberate effort to keep her voice calm. “Tell them we’ve got a five-year-old with abdominal pain and a high fever. Her belly seems rigid and tender to the touch. And tell them to please hurry.”
“Excuse me?” Celia said. “What medical school did you say you attended?”
“My mother was a nurse for thirty years, and I was a candy striper all through high school,” A
Mason was dialing and reaching for Celia’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he said pleadingly. “But you understand. Right?”
Celia took only a moment to reevaluate the situation, shift tactics, and choose the proper response. “Of course,” she cried. “Absolutely. Do you think it would be better to load her into my car and take her over to the hospital ourselves?”
“Just a minute,” Mason said, turning his attention back to the phone. “Right. This is Mason Bayless. I’m at the Church of the Good Shepherd in Passcoe. There’s something wrong with my little girl. What? No, I don’t know the address. It’s on Fairhaven, about a block from downtown. It’s the only Episcopal church in town, for God’s sake. Don’t you people have a computer or something?”
He listened impatiently. “Yes, that’s it. Okay. She’s five years old, and she just … suddenly collapsed. She’s in a lot of pain. It’s her stomach. She’s got a high fever, and she’s throwing up … No, she doesn’t have any allergies that I know of. No! She hasn’t gotten into poison. Who the hell do you think you’re dealing with here?”
A
The robing-room door opened and Pokey stepped in. “What’s the news?” she started, and then wrinkled her nose. “Oh no. Stomach bug?”
“A
“What do you need me to do?” She was addressing her brother, ignoring his fiancée, not something Celia was used to.
“Pokey, could you please ask Father Jolly to a
“We’ll have to get all those cars cleared out of the driveway and the street outside, before an ambulance can get here,” Pokey said. “And Mama’s going to want to go to the hospital, too, I can tell you right now.”
“Fine,” Celia said impatiently. “You and Pete can take her, or Davis or somebody, but in the meantime, could you please get those cars moved?”
“Sure,” Pokey said, bristling at being ordered around. She looked over at A