“It’s okay, precious,” Carrie said, rubbing his back. “So what do you think, Doc?”
Doc Larson’s face was stern. “Honestly, it’s probably nothing. As I said, there’s some nasty crud going around right now. Viruses that cause fever and aches. I’ve seen a lot of kids with it. But Duke’s fever is darned high.”
“So what do we need to do?”
“I’m going to give him a little something to get the fever down, that’s for sure, but I gotta say, I don’t like those bruises.”
“Little boys get bruises.”
“You’re traveling, though, and he’s been in your sight at all times since you’ve been here, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then you or he should know how he got those bruises.”
“It’s only two bruises,” Carrie said, her voice still shaking.
Sydney’s heart dropped to her belly.
Fever. Bruising.
Leukemia.
“I think w
e can let it go for twenty-four hours,” Doc said. “I want to see him again tomorrow. The ibuprofen should get the fever down. Repeat the dosage every six hours. Keep liquids in him and make sure he gets lots of rest.”
“Doc?” Sydney stepped forward.
“Yes, young lady?”
“I think you should know something.”
“Of course. What is it?”
“Both his paternal grandmother and aunt had—oh God—leukemia.”
Carrie’s hands whipped to her mouth. “Sydney, what are you talking about?”
Doc Larson’s expression went grave.
“Carrie, take Duke out of here,” Roy said.
“Roy—”
“Just do it, please. I’ll explain everything as soon as I can.”
Carrie dressed Duke quickly and left the room.
“Doc, Duke is not my wife’s and my biological child. He’s our grandchild. May I speak confidentially?”
“Absolutely,” Doc said.
“Sydney is his mother, and the father is a man named Sam O’Donovan.”
“Sam? I know his sister, Dusty, well.” Doc’s face went white. “Dear Lord.”
“That’s why I told you,” Sydney said. “I’m so afraid.”