Chapter 21 - Craig

Craig had never been more scared in his life. He held Isaac close, his attempts to rock him back to normal unsuccessful. Isaac screamed. Craig had never heard him sound anywhere near as pained, not even when Isaac was gassy.

If Jack didn’t know what to do, he needed to take Isaac to the hospital. There was no way that something major wasn’t wrong.

Jack put down his coffee and crossed the room to stand in front of Craig. There was worry in his eyes, but not the panicked kind of worry that Craig felt. Jack took Isaac from him.

“I’m going home now,” Jack said to Lane. “Sorry. Thanks for the coffee.”

“I’ll text you later,” Lane said. “Think about what I told you, okay?”

“I will.”

Craig stepped out of the doorway. He paced toward the stairs, unable to stay still. Every time Isaac screamed, Craig’s heart shattered.

Something was wrong with his son, and he had no idea what do to.

“What do you think could be wrong?” Craig asked. He kept his eyes locked on Jack. “There has to be something.”

Jack closed Lane’s front door and headed for the stairs. He carried Isaac tenderly. “I don’t know. We’re going to go home and have a look. Did you try burping him?”

“I did,” Craig said. He took the stairs quickly, staying a few steps ahead of Jack. He walked backward to keep an eye on both Jack and his son. “He wouldn’t burp for me. I don’t think he’s gassy. I’ve gotten really good at figuring out when he needs to get it out.”

“Mm, you’re right. It doesn’t sound like the cry he uses when he’s gassy. It’s something else.” Jack patted Isaac’s back, anyway. “He’s certainly got a set of lungs, though. You did good.”

“I…” Craig was too stressed to laugh. He knew that Jack was trying to make him feel better, but he couldn’t feel good when his son was in pain. “I just want him to stop. I want him to be happy.”

“I know,” Jack said simply. They crossed Jack’s lawn and climbed the stairs of the porch. “He’s going to be. All we need to do is figure out what’s got him so upset, then we’ll work to correct it.”

“I tried Googling it,” Craig admitted. “For a little while I was afraid the water I used was too hot and that I’d burned him or… or cooked him somehow, but I don’t think that’s it. I remember checking the water with my wrist. It didn’t even get hot.”

“Okay.” Jack opened the door. Craig had been standing by it, on edge.

“And then I thought maybe it was an adverse reaction to the baby shampoo I was using, so I looked I up and I don’t see any chemical burns or… or signs of skin irritation. I also read through all the reviews I could find on the shampoo and no one’s ever reported a problem with it, although I know that maybe it could just be one bad bottle, or… I don’t know. Someone tampered with it, or maybe something’s changed in the formula since the other reviews were posted.”

“Okay,” Jack said again. He headed for the stairs. Craig closed the door and followed him. His pulse thrummed in his ears.

“So then I thought that it was the towel and the detergent, but we’ve been washing everything of Isaac’s in unscented detergent that’s supposed to be safe for babies, and he’s never had a reaction before, so… so I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Jack crested the stairs and entered Craig’s room. Craig had a station for Isaac set up in there. Jack laid Isaac down. “Is it okay if I take off his onesie?”

“Yeah.” Craig paced behind him, desperate to do something. “What do you think is wrong?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’m going to give him a look and see if there’s anything physical I can find. Once I know, we’ll move on from there. We’ve just got to take it a step at a time.”

Craig managed to stop pacing. He looked over Jack’s shoulder as Jack removed Isaac’s onesie and looked him over for signs of skin irritation. Craig didn’t see anything, but Jack was more experienced with children. Craig hoped Jack saw something only because if he did, they’d know how to make Isaac feel better.

“Do you see anything?”

“No.” Jack picked Isaac up and turned him around. Isaac’s neck muscles were starting to develop, and he needed a little less support. “Not seeing anything in particular. He doesn’t look like he’s got irritated skin.”

“Then what?”

“He feels hot,” Jack said. He laid Isaac back down as the baby wailed. “The cry he’s using isn’t because he’s hungry or wet. He doesn’t need to be burped, either. So… right now I think he’s not feeling well. I think he has a fever.” Jack pressed the back of his hand to Isaac’s forehead. “Yep. Feels feverish to me. He’s been fussy today. It must have been setting in.”

“A fever?” Craig was rattled. What was he supposed to do? “Do I take him to the doctor? Do I… god. I don’t know. Is there a medicine he can take? He can’t take pills.”

Jack chuckled. “I don’t think the fever’s all that bad. He’s about five months old now, right?”

“Yeah. Four months.” Craig twisted his hands together.

“If a baby is less than three months old, fevers are serious and need medical attention. Because he’s five months old, as long as his temperature isn’t too high, he should be fine.”

“How do we know that?” Craig asked. “What’s too high for a baby?”

Jack gave him a dirty look. “Are you seriously asking me how we take a baby’s temperature? I know you’re worried, but come on. He’s a baby, but he’s resilient. He’s not going to die, Craig. Take a deep breath and calm down. You need your wits about you if you’re going to be a dad. Once he starts crawling, you’re going to have your hands full.”

“I just…” Craig closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. “I’m okay. I’m calm. I’m going to get through this.”

“Yes, you are.” Jack patted his back reassuringly. “We’ve got this under control. We’re going to take Isaac’s temperature with a digital thermometer. I have one in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. Could you get it for me, please?”

“Sure.” Craig felt better with something to do. He glanced at Isaac one last time, then left the room to get the thermometer. It wasn’t hard to find. Craig took it from the medicine cabinet shelf, then returned. He gave the thermometer to Jack.

“Good.” Jack took off the plastic covering over the reader, then lifted Isaac’s arm. He placed the reader against Isaac’s armpit and held his arm shut. “We need to see a temperature of less than 101 degrees. If it’s higher, we’ll take him to the hospital and a doctor will look after him.”

“And if that happens?” Craig asked. “Is there a chance he could die?”

“There’s a chance any of us could die at any time,” Jack said flatly. “You’re freaked out. It’s okay. This is the first time your son is sick. It’s normal to be worried. But let me tell you, I promise everything is going to be okay.”

Hearing it from Jack made it better. Craig slumped onto the baby station, arms folded together. Being terrified was exhausting.

The thermometer beeped. Craig took it from Isaac’s armpit and read the number.

“It’s 99.7. A little high, but nothing to be alarmed about. If his fever doesn’t break in twenty-four hours, we’ll go to the hospital, okay?”

“What can we do for him?” Craig asked. “It breaks my heart to hear him crying.”

“One of us can run to the pharmacy to get some infant’s Tylenol. The other one of us should stay here. We can help him cool down with some lukewarm rags. I think maybe that’s why he wasn’t as fussy in the bath.”

“Okay.” Craig tried to calm himself. “What do you want me to do?”

“If you need a break from him crying, you can go to the pharmacy,” Jack said. “If not, then you can stay here and help him cool down.”

“Okay.” Craig gave himself a moment to think. It was hard to do when Isaac’s condition made him want to shut down and curl up into a ball. How was he supposed to be a good dad when he couldn’t hold himself together during urgent times? “I… I think I’ll stay here.”

“You got it.” Jack rubbed his back. The touch was soothing. Craig leaned into it and let go of his fears. It was going to be okay. It was just a fever. “There are times when he’s going to get sick, and there are times when he’ll hurt. This is the first time. I promise it’s going to get better from here.”

“You sound more like a dad than an uncle,” Craig admitted.

Jack squeezed his shoulder. “Told you, I’m a dad with none of the benefits. Now, you sit tight with Isaac while I run out. Do you know where the clean washcloths are?”

“Yes.” Craig nodded.

“Good. Soak them and let him enjoy the water a little. He’ll cool down and feel better soon. I promise.”

Craig looked over his shoulder. His nose almost brushed Jack’s cheek. They were close, but Jack wasn’t looking at him—he was looking at Isaac. The care and devotion in his eyes was genuine.

Jack cared.

It made Craig want to burst with happiness.

“I’ll see you soon,” Jack said. He squeezed Craig’s shoulder once more and left the room.

Craig was glad—if Jack had stayed another second, he would have kissed him, and neither of them needed a complication like that in their lives.

Isaac calmed down once Craig draped a damp cloth over his forehead. He took care washing Isaac again, running the washcloth along his tiny arms and his pudgy belly. Isaac didn’t fall asleep, but his eyelids started to droop. He had to be exhausted from crying. Craig wished there was something he could do.

Jack was gone for no more than twenty minutes. When he got back, he had with him a box of infant’s Tylenol. Craig read the directions twice before he let Jack so much as open the cap, then watched like a hawk as Jack drew the medicine into the dropper.

“How are we going to get him to take it?” Craig asked.

“Well, it’s going to take a little bit of skill, but we’ll get it,” Jack promised. “What I want you to do is distract him while I try to get it in his mouth, okay?”

“He’s pretty tuckered out,” Craig said. “I don’t know if he’s going to be too alert.”

“He’ll feel better if he sees his daddy nearby, anyway,” Jack said. “Stroke his hair. Talk to him. I’ll get him to take the medicine before he even realizes what’s going on.”

Raising a child was an experience Craig was not prepared for, and he was eternally grateful he had Jack to rely on. He leaned over Isaac and stroked his hair gently until Isaac’s gaze focused on him.

“Hey, little man,” Craig said. “Are you feeling any better now that we’ve got you cooled down? I know it’s not going to last forever, but for now it must feel pretty nice, right?”

As Craig spoke, Jack slipped the dropper between Isaac’s open lips. Isaac didn’t so much as squirm. Craig watched as he swallowed instinctively. Jack took the dropperout.

“We’re going to do what we can to make you feel better.”

Isaac smacked his lips and moved his tongue, the taste still in his mouth. The medicine was grape flavored, Craig remembered. He wondered if it tasted as awful to a baby as it did to a toddler.

“Soon enough it’ll pass. You’ll get better. Not only that, but you’ll get stronger for it, too.”

“I think we should try putting him to bed now that he’s not crying anymore,” Jack said. “The medicine will knock him right out.”

“He’s already half asleep from crying so hard,” Craig said.

“Then putting him to bed is an extra good idea.” Jack bumped against Craig’s side, a small sign of solidarity. The contact sent a shiver down Craig’s spine. “C’mon, dad. Let’s let Isaac get some rest.”

The fear died. Relief set in. Craig let it all out in a satisfying sigh. He picked Isaac up and laid him in his crib. For a while, Craig and Jack stood over him, watching. Then Jack laid a hand on his back. It was a silent sign to go.

They left the room together. Everything was going to be all right.