Felicia Mason - The Single Dad Finds a Wife

“We had a lovely girls’ day out,” his mother said. “We went to a new spa here in Greensboro and had facials, and then we ate lunch at a cute little bistro...”

David leaned against the sink, rubbed his temple and sighed.

Here he was thinking she was having some sort of existential or menopausal crisis, and instead she was just hanging out with her sister.

“...and he asked me out to dinner. Imagine that!”

His eyes popped open, and he stood up. “What was that, Mom? Who? Dinner?”

A schoolgirl-sounding trill came through the mobile phone.

“He’s in charge of the school district’s transportation department. We’re going to dinner and a movie. Isn’t that nice?”

David shuddered and tried not to sigh again.

The thought of his mother dating gave him the heebie-jeebies. He knew it was unreasonable to expect that she would be alone the rest of her life. Charlotte Camden was not yet sixty years old and had already been a widow for almost a decade.

She didn’t know that David thoroughly vetted the gentlemen friends she expressed interest in. And he’d confronted more than one who was after something other than the companionship of a lady of a certain age.

He knew he was overprotective when it came to his mother. Charlotte wasn’t what might be called rich, but a trust left for her by his father in addition to a hefty insurance settlement after he’d died ensured that she would have no financial worries, and enough wealth to attract the sort looking for a gravy train.

“Yeah, lovely,” he said of her dinner-date news.

What sounded like a moan from the other room drew his attention. He pulled the bathroom door open a bit and listened.

“Daddy.”

“I’m right here, buddy,” he said, making his way to the beds.

“Is that Jeremy?” Charlotte asked. “What in the world is he doing up at this hour? David, you spoil him.”

“He’s sick, Mom. Can you hold on for a sec?”

He put the phone on his bed and sat on Jeremy’s.

The boy crawled into his lap and moaned. His forehead was burning up.

David’s heart started racing.

“Oh, boy.”

“David! David!” The tinny voice floated from the phone.

He leaned over and snatched it up, cradling the phone in the crook of his neck. “Mom, I’ve got to go. I need to find a doctor.”

“Find a doctor? What do you mean find a doctor? Call Dr. Johnson.”

“Dr. Johnson is in Charlotte, mom. We’re in Cedar Springs.”

David eased Jeremy from his lap and back onto the bed, then dashed to the bathroom for a cool washcloth. He returned just a moment later with both the washcloth to press to his son’s head and a glass of water.

“Cedar Springs? What in the...? Oh no! Oh, David, I’m so sorry. Was that this week? I thought you were going there next week.”

Retching sounds were coming from Jeremy.

“Mom, I need to go.”

He disengaged the phone and dashed for the wastebasket near the desk. He got back to Jeremy a second too late.

The boy started to cry. David didn’t know if the tears were because his stomach hurt or because he’d just soiled his favorite Winnie the Pooh pajamas.

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy.”

David prayed that it would be as he comforted his son.

It was eleven thirty at night. He had two options. He could call 9-1-1 or he could call the doctor from the clinic. She’d written a number on the back of the business card she’d given Jeremy.

He put the wastebasket on the floor at the edge of the bed and cradled his son in one arm. With the other, he dug into his pocket and pulled out Dr. Spring Darling’s business card.

* * *

Spring had just closed the book she’d been reading, turned off the bedside lamp, fluffed her pillows and settled in bed when her mobile phone chirped.

“Gerald, I am not giving you a prescription for Valium,” she muttered as she rolled over and reached for the telephone on the bedside table.

The burglars at Step Back in Time Antiques weren’t after whatever they could grab. They’d come with a shopping list. Small but extremely valuable pieces were the only things missing from the antiques shop. If it hadn’t been for a broken vase that Richard’s wife had come across, they may not have even discovered the break-in for a day or two. She’d gotten the story from Gerald, the high-strung co-owner of the shop, while Richard, the more level-headed business partner, talked to police, then called their insurance company.

After checking on her friends, she’d driven to Cecelia’s, where she’d stayed entirely too long for someone who had early morning rounds at the hospital. Gerald had already phoned twice asking for something to calm his nerves.

She didn’t even glance at the caller ID on the phone. “Gerald, for the last time, I am not giving you a script for Valium. Drink some chamomile tea and go to bed.”

“Uh, hello?”

Spring sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

That rich baritone was definitely not Gerald Murphy on the line. It sounded like the man with the little boy who’d been at the clinic—the man she’d spent too much time talking about with Cecelia, the man whose voice did unreasonable things to her.

She turned on the light, then put on her professional voice. “I’m so sorry,” she told her caller. “I thought it was a friend. This is Dr. Darling. To whom am I speaking?”

“I’m sorry for calling so late, doctor. It’s David. David Camden. I brought my son in to see you earlier this evening.”

Spring ran a hand through hair that tumbled in her face. She opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out a hair tie to tame it.

Putting the phone on speaker, she gathered up her hair and tugged it into a ponytail. “Is Jeremy all right?” she asked him.

“No.”

She heard the panic in the man’s voice and was up and headed to her closet for clothes to wear to either the clinic or the hospital.

“What are his symptoms?” she asked as she grabbed a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt.

“He’s burning up and throwing up. Hold on, please.”

She stared at the phone for a moment. When she heard retching, her mind started running through what besides stomach flu might be wrong with the cute little boy. Spring pulled on the jeans and slipped into a pair of loafers.

“Dr. Darling? I’m back. He says his stomach hurts a lot. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Where are you?”

When he told her, she was a bit surprised to hear that someone with financial troubles was living in that rather expensive hotel. There were several more economical options around town. But she said nothing about that. It wasn’t her business. A sick child was her concern.

“I want you to take Jeremy to the hospital. To Cedar Springs General Hospital. I’ll meet you there. Do you have something to write with? I can give you directions from where you are. It will take you less than ten minutes to get there.”

She gave David the directions, shrugged on and buttoned her shirt and was about to grab her keys when she paused at the mirror. She made a quick detour to her large bathroom and applied a touch of powder and a bit of blush to her cheeks. She picked up a tube of lipstick, then frowned and put it back on the tray that held her makeup.

“It’s a medical emergency, not a date,” she said.

With her keys in hand, she grabbed her phone, the wallet clutch that held the essentials and the lanyard with her hospital IDs.

Outside, as she made her way to the garage, she noticed the lights were still on at her mother’s house. Spring’s home was actually a separate wing of her mother’s large estate. They shared the four-car garage on the property. Lovie Darling was a consummate entertainer, and the two cars in the drive, vehicles Spring didn’t recognize, were proof of that.