The Single Undead Moms(66)

“This form needs some work,” I muttered.

“Mom, I don’t think Harley feels too good.”

I turned to see Harley and Danny standing behind me. Harley’s cheeks were flushed, and his blue eyes were glassy as marbles, a quick descent from the condition I had found him in when I rose for the evening. Kerrianne had mentioned that Harley had been a little “draggy” when she’d picked the kids up from school. I should have known that was a child-health red flag for impending immune-system meltdown.

Harley sneezed loudly and looked utterly miserable.

“Your shoes are tight,” Danny told him, patting Harley’s matted blond hair.

“I don’t think tight shoes makes you sneeze,” Harley said, sneezing louder, even as I wiped at his dripping nose with a tissue.

“Your shoes are tight again” was Danny’s reply.

“Gesundheit, honey,” I reminded him, laughing. “It’s Gesundheit. It means ‘bless you’ in German. Why don’t you get Harley a juice box from the fridge?”

“That makes more sense,” Danny reasoned, fetching the juice and poking a straw into the box. Harley let loose one final ear-splitting sneeze. I grabbed the digital ear thermometer from the medicine cabinet.

“Bless you in German,” Danny told him.

“No, that’s not—” I shook my head. “Never mind.”

“My head hurts,” Harley said, crossing to the sink and leaning his face against my arm. His forehead was burning up. I didn’t need a thermometer or vampire senses to know that he had a fever.

“Harley, honey, I think we need to get you into a cool bath. Danny, grab my phone off the charger. We need to call Mr. Wade, OK?”

I carried Harley upstairs to the guest bath, running a tub as cool as I thought Harley could tolerate. According to the ear thermometer, his temperature was 102.3, not dangerous but definitely not a symptom to ignore, particularly with his asthma.

I let Harley put a pair of Danny’s swim trunks on, for both our sakes, before he climbed into the tub. His poor little lips were quivering, and his teeth chattered, even though the bathwater was lukewarm. As I dialed Wade’s number, I called to Danny to knock on Miss Nola’s door and explain the situation.

“Hey, baby doll, everythin’ OK?” Wade yelled over the whine of machinery in the background. I set the phone to speaker.

“No. I’m sorry to bother you, but Harley’s not feeling well. He’s got a fever and a runny nose.”

“You put him in a bath yet?”

“I’m in here now, Daddy, and it’s cold!” Harley shouted irritably.

“That usually works, but he’ll fight you like a pissed-off cat,” Wade said.

“Really? He didn’t give me any trouble, other than some pitiful looks.”

Wade harrumphed. “Clearly, he likes you better than me.”

“Clearly.”

Nola, bless her, was there in a flash, medical bag in hand, and took the phone from me so she could ask Wade some questions about Harley’s asthma medication. I kept myself busy mopping Harley’s head with Danny’s Ninja Turtles loofah.

Once Harley’s tooth chattering was reduced to a less castanet-like state, we let him out of the tub and dried him off. Danny had already fetched his favorite Ninja Turtles pajamas, which were about a size and a half too small for Harley, but the poor baby didn’t complain.

“You, sir, have a nice, solid upper-respiratory infection going,” Nola informed him after examining him. “It’s nothing too serious, but it’s probably a good thing we caught it before it got worse.”

“Am I going to have to take medicine?”

“I’ll call Dr. Hackett and ask him to call something in to the pharmacy,” Nola told me. Harley groaned, and Nola brushed his damp hair back from his forehead. “I’ll make sure they add the bubble-gum flavoring, OK, darlin’? Can Wade pick it up?”

I nodded, and Danny suddenly sneezed, spraying the side of my face with spit and who knew what else. Nola handed me a wet wipe and then curved her hands under Danny’s jaw, feeling his lymph nodes.

“If I didn’t know I was immune to whatever biohazards are on my face right now, I would be really upset,” I told her, wiping at my cheeks. “Nope, I am upset either way.”

“Danny, do you and Harley share everything?” Nola asked, carefully cupping her hands under Danny’s jaw to feel for swelling. “Like your pencils, your hats, maybe your water bottles?”

Danny nodded. “Harley finished his drink before I did at lunch today. It’s nice to share.”

I groaned, dropping my head. “Of course.”