Reverb (15 page)

A spring storm rages. Elisabeth thinks it’s the thunder that wakes Cameron when she hears him crying late one night in early April. She goes to check on him. He’s burning up. Panic replaces every other feeling. She’s in the middle of nowhere with no vehicle. No cell service this far from town. Phone’s out, a frequent occurrence she’d come to expect with storms. She gives him some infant Tylenol to bring the fever down, and holds him to her in front of the fireplace for almost an hour but the fever remains high.

Jack. I need you. I’m scared.
Jack!

Horrific thoughts of losing her son run through her head as she sits there rocking him. Closest hospital she knows of is in Corfu City, and there’s no way for her to get there.

Think!

She’d seen the runner driving a Jeep around town on occasion. Maybe he can help her. She wraps Cameron in a woolen blanket, stuffs him into her zipped North Face jacket, and climbs up the dark, winding trail, slipping and sliding and praying he speaks English, until she finally arrives at his door ten minutes later.

It’s three in the morning, and Elisabeth’s surprised to find him awake. She sees him through the large picture window, sitting cross-legged in front of his fireplace, reading. She knocks and he comes and looks through the window, then opens the door.

“I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but my son is sick. He has a high fever, and I have to get him to the hospital. You’re the only one I’ve seen around here with a car, and I really need your help. I live just down the hill—”

“I know who you are. Come in. The car’s in front. You can go through the house.” His accent is British. “Let me get my keys. I’ll meet you out there.”

No furniture in the living room, only a sleeping bag on the floor by the fireplace. There are books everywhere though, piles of them against the walls, some strewn about the room, others stacked along the hallway. She holds Cameron to her, feeling his hot little body, her attention focused on his labored breathing. She goes through the front door and gets into the Jeep.

Keys jingle, and moments later he comes out to the carport, pulling on a worn black leather jacket. He’s even more stunning close up—tall, trim, his tight build obvious even under his loose cotton shirt and worn jeans. He gives her a quick, warm smile. His sculpted features and hint of stubble belie his baby face. He runs his hand through his soft dark hair. It falls to his shoulders and back in his striking green eyes. He glances at her, then Cameron as he gets behind the wheel, starts the engine, and they’re on their way.

“The closest twenty-four hour medical facility I know is in South Corfu. It’ll be quicker than trying to get to the city, and from what I’ve heard the staff there is good. How long has your son had a fever?”

“A few hours, I think. I tried to bring it down with Tylenol, but it didn’t go down as much as I’d like. He’s still very hot. I took his temperature before coming to you and it was 103.” Panic washes over her again, and she can’t hold back tears.

“Hey. Your son’s going to be just fine. I don’t think 103 is all that high for little kids. When did you give him the Tylenol?”

“About fifteen minutes before coming to you.”

“Give the Tylenol a bit to take effect and he’ll cool down.” His accent is refined, his tone soft, reassuring. He holds the wheel with one huge hand at the top; his fingers wrap around it and back over his palm. His slender form is molded into the driver’s seat as if car and driver are one. He navigates the narrow, winding road quickly and with ease. Pine trees are whipping around in the strong winds. Branches are flying everywhere, but he manages to miss hitting anything.

She unwraps Cameron’s head and kisses his forehead, and he actually feels a little cooler. “I think the Tylenol is working. Feels like his fever is coming down.” She clings to her child, pushing back her panic. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No problem.”

“What’s your name?”

“James.”

“I’m Elisabeth. This is my son, Cameron.”

“How old is he?”

“Thirteen months.” She stares ahead, suddenly shamed to look at him. “I know it probably seems irresponsible of me bringing an infant out here to the middle of nowhere, alone. I did check the hospital facilities on the island before renting my place. I figured if anything came up I could always get a taxi from town if I really needed to. I didn’t know I couldn’t get a cell connection, or that the phone went out with every storm. Thanks a lot for your help. I really appreciate it.”

“Really, it’s not a problem. I’m sure your son is going to be just fine.”

They pull into the driveway of a pink, two-story building. Pink cloth banner attached to the upstairs railing announces Kérkyra Nótia MediGuard. All the lights are on when they go inside. A middle-aged, compact woman with short, white hair and piercing blue eyes wearing teal scrubs rises from behind a linoleum counter and immediately attends to them.

James speaks to her in Greek. The only word Elisabeth gets is Tylenol.

“What are you telling her?”

“Just what’s going on.”

The nurse speaks to James in Greek then she picks up the phone and calls someone, says something quickly then hangs up. “Eláte me aftón ton trópo.” She speaks to both of them.

James indicates for her to follow the nurse then he falls in step behind them.

The examination room is small but clean. It has two tables in it, and the nurse points to one while she gathers several forms from the plastic bins on the wall and puts them on a clipboard. Elisabeth sits Cameron on a short vinyl table and holds him to her as he looks around the room, then fixes his sleepy gaze on James.

A wide smile forms on James’ exquisite face as he stares back at her son. Cameron smiles back at him, reaches his tiny hand out to James lingering in the doorway, but James stays where he is. Elisabeth releases a deep, shaky breath as she holds her son on the examining table. She strokes his forehead, which is much cooler, and suddenly she feels a little silly that perhaps she’s overreacted and doesn’t really need to be here.

The nurse attends to Cameron, takes his temperature with a digital ear thermometer, unzips his sky blue onesie and listens to his small chest with a stethoscope, then checks his ears with one of those magnifying flashlights. She leaves the instrument with Cam as she steps away, fills in forms on the clipboard, has a quick exchange in Greek with James, hands him the clipboard and points where to write, then hands him a pen.

He looks at Elisabeth, pen in his left hand poised to write. “Cameron what? C,a,m,e,r,o,n, right?”

“Yes. Whitestone, spelled as it sounds.” Cameron gets up on his pudgy legs and tries to stick the ear magnifier in Elisabeth’s ear, but nearly puts it in her eye. “Stop that.” She picks him up, takes the instrument from his tiny fingers, which apparently isn’t the right thing to do because he starts fussing and whining and leaning, trying to get it back.

“Oh. Shh. Shh. Eivai Wpaia,” the nurse says, startling Cameron into silence as she takes the instrument from Elisabeth.

She rocks her son gently and he actually snuggles into her, rests his head on her breasts and sticks his thumb in his mouth. Elisabeth watches James write. His fingers are very odd, unnaturally long, and very slender. He stops writing and looks down the hallway, watching someone approach.

“Hi. I’m Dr. Nikolaos Avgoustis.” A tall, athletic, Mediterranean man in his late forties maybe, stands in the doorway, extending his hand to James.

“Hi.” James shakes the doctor’s hand. “Good to meet you.”

“You must be the concerned father?” He glances in the room at Elisabeth and Cameron.

“No. Just a friend.” James doesn’t offer his name.

“You must be the worried mother.” The doctor speaks to Elisabeth as he comes in. He gives her a wide, white smile and extends his hand. She shakes it, feeling the weight of worry dissipate.

“Elisabeth Whitestone. This is my son, Cameron. He’s thirteen months. He had a fever of 103 earlier this evening. I gave him Tylenol, and I think it’s coming down now.” Cameron is snuggled in, the top of his head under her chin feels much cooler than it did earlier.

“Okay, then. Let’s take a look, shall we?” He turns to his nurse and they exchanged some words in Greek. He’s olive skinned, clearly Greek, yet speaks perfect English with only the slightest swarthy middle-eastern accent. He turns back to Elisabeth. “Put him on the table here, and I’ll just take a quick look at him, okay?”

She peels him off her and puts her son back on the examination table, but he's not happy about it and his small, round face contorts into a frown as his eyes well. The doctor shows Cameron his stethoscope, diverting his fear to wonder, holds the device to his own heart and let’s Cam listen before reversing the roles. He examines her son, showing the child the instruments before using them, explaining what he’s doing the entire time in simple, exaggerated language. She could have kissed that doctor right then.

“Okay. Looks like your son has influenza, or the flu as you Yanks call it.” He flashes a teasing, white smile. “The inflammation in his throat is moderate, and his lungs are only slightly congested. I don’t see any signs of an ear infection, but it often follows the flu so I’m going to give you some Amoxicillin, just in case. It’s good to have around anyway.” Doctor Nikolaos retrieves the clipboard from James and starts writing.

“What should I do if the fever returns?” Elisabeth picks up her son.

“Tylenol. And lots of it. Cradling him will comfort him. Half the cure is in the contact.” Doctor smiles that charming grin again. “You have any more questions for me?”

“No. Thank you. You’ve been really great.” She feels stupid. “This is the first time Cameron's ever been sick, and we’re so far from anywhere if he needed real care, and...well...”

“I’m assuming Cameron is your first child?” The doctor gives her a gentle, tired smile.

She nods, looks at James watching her.

“Ms Whitestone, Elisabeth, your son is just fine. He appears to be a healthy child who at the moment has the flu. Take him home, keep him as hydrated as possible—water or juice are fine, and all of you get some rest.” Doctor Nikolaos glances at James. “I’m sure a good night’s sleep will do you all some good.”

The doctor retrieves a bottle of Amoxicillin from a white cabinet, hands it and several sample boxes of Children’s Tylenol to Elisabeth. She pockets them with thanks. They follow the doctor back down the hall to the waiting area where he joins the nurse behind the front desk. Elisabeth and James thank them again and leave the clinic. No payment for service required. Health care in Greece is socially funded for all residents, permanent or not.

Cameron sleeps in her arms on the ride back. His fever is way down, and she feels confident her beautiful son is going to be just fine. Exhaustion sweeps over her with the gentle swaying of the Jeep. She can hardly keep her eyes open. James is focused on driving. He looks tired, darkness around his eyes she’d not noticed or wasn’t there earlier. It’s close to dawn. She’s kept him up all night, and is feeling kind of bad about that. “I’m sorry for dragging you out of your house in the middle of the night. You probably think I am an over-reactive jerk.”

“You’re trying to do right by your son. No fault in that.”

“Thank you, for all your help. Even if I’d gotten to the clinic, I would never have been able to talk to that nurse. I’m surprised you speak Greek. It’s not exactly a common language.”

“I’ve been studying it since I got to the island, about three months now. I have a pretty good ear for this sort of thing, though I’m still not very fluent. I missed half of what the nurse said and I’m not so sure what I said to her was accurate. I'm glad she got the message.”

“Me, too. What brings you to Corfu?”

He doesn’t answer. Elisabeth starts to think he isn’t going to, but then he says, “Space. And I find I enjoy the pace. What about you?”

“Same thing, I guess. My husband, Jack, Cameron’s father, was killed in a terrorist bombing in Israel a few months ago, and this seems a good place to preserve what’s left of my sanity.”

“I’m sorry.” His square jaw tightens hollowing his cheeks. “And for your son’s loss as well.”

“Thank you.” She holds Cameron tighter to her. “Are you a permanent resident of the island?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. I like it here.” The Jeep is drafty. Fine strands of his hair blow about. He runs his hand through it to tame it. “It’s quiet, secluded and beautiful.”

She stares at him. He really is magnificent. Classic profile, straight nose, full lips, ultra long lashes surrounding big, almond shaped eyes.
Wow
. Elisabeth looks back out the front windshield hoping he doesn’t see her blush. “It is beautiful here, right out of a post card. Can’t stop taking pictures. Hoping to sell some to a stock house, but most of them will probably end up on Tumblr with the rest of the travel blogs.”

“Didn’t realize that you were a fine photographer.”

“I’m not. I’m a photojournalist.” The way he phrased his statement irked her, and she remembers feeling the same when he’d originally answered his door this evening. “When I came to your house tonight you said that you knew who I was. How is that? I don’t recall having ever met.”

“I bought the house on the hill. It came with forty acres, which includes your house on the waterfront. The broker that manages the property ran your application by me.”