Page 67 of Something Like Shelter

“We’re on our way,” she said, and I could hear her grabbing things. “Ten minutes.”

“I’ll be here.”

Her panic only fueled mine, so I went to lift Adelaide out of her bassinet and pulled off her socks and mittens, trying to cool her off a little.

“Someone much more experienced than me is going to be here soon,” I told a pretty lethargic Adelaide. “They’re gonna fix you up.”

I walked over to the front door, unlocking it, and waiting by the window to watch for headlights.

It was under seven minutes before they came flying up the driveway.

By the time a gorgeous blond woman wearing a pajama set much like the ones Willa often wore made her way up the driveway, I had the door open.

I didn’t even greet her, just handed over the baby and watched as she pressed her lips to her granddaughter’s forehead.

“Oh, poor baby,” she said, moving inside with her.

I waited for Willa’s father to walk up.

He was a unit—tall, fit, tanned skin, black and gray tattoos, studs in his ears, but dressed in black pajama pants and a tee.

“Owen,” he greeted me, taking my hand when I offered it. “I’m Paine. That’s Elsie,” he said, nodding toward where his wife was sucking up medicine in an eyedropper. “Thanks for letting us know something was up. Point me to my girl.”

“She’s on the couch,” I said, nodding toward it as I closed the door.

Beside Elsie, Tuna whimpered and tapped his little feet anxiously on the floor.

“She’s gonna be okay, bud,” I said, walking over to pet his head. “Right?” I asked Elsie after she plunged the medicine into the baby’s mouth.

“Right,” she agreed. “She’s warm, but not as hot as I was worried about. Do you know how long she’s had a fever?”

“I know she didn’t when I put her down maybe six hours ago. Willa fed her and put her down about four hours ago. I think she would have noticed if she was warm. Adelaide was fussy all night and all day today. I guess she wasn’t feeling well but wasn’t showing any obvious signs yet.”

Elsie watched me for a moment.

“Are you seeing my daughter?” she asked, voice low.

“I…”

“Sorry. No. Don’t answer that. That’s not my business. Do you know if she had a full meal at her last feeding?”

“She didn’t. Willa said she barely nursed.”

“Okay. Can you hold her for me so I can warm up some milk?” she asked.

“Of course,” I agreed, taking the baby and watching Elsie grab a bag of breast milk from the fridge and warm it up before pouring it into a bottle.

“Else,” Paine called, making Elsie look over. “Wanna help Wills for a minute?”

“I can feed her,” I said, taking the bottle from Elsie.

She rushed over toward Willa, who had her arms folded over her chest. Four hours without nursing the baby. I had to imagine she’d leaked through her clothes.

“Owen?” Willa called as she passed, her face flushed red from fever, but her eyes swimming with worry.

“She’s okay,” I assured her. “Grandma says so.”

“We lived through much worse fevers with you as a baby,” Elsie told her daughter as she led her toward the steps.