Chapter 10
The distant wail of a siren cut through the quiet morning air of the Oakridge suburb, growing louder with every passing second until the red and blue flashing lights of an ambulance reflected off the surrounding pine trees. The vehicle pulled sharply onto the maintenance road, braking smoothly beside the weathered wooden bench where Clara and Sarah stood.
Two emergency medical technicians jumped out of the back doors before the ambulance had even fully come to a halt. The lead paramedic, a calm-faced woman with a badge reading Miller, hurried over with a heavy medical kit in hand.
"Over here!" Sarah called out, waving her yellow windbreaker to draw their attention.
Dr. Miller rushed to Clara’s side, her eyes immediately assessing Toby’s condition. "Mom, let me take him. What’s his name?"
"Toby. He’s one year old," Clara said, her voice shaking uncontrollably as she transferred the burning, listless baby into the paramedic’s experienced arms. "He’s had a fever since midnight. It spiked, and he’s been coughing and breathing too fast."
Miller worked with practiced efficiency, pulling a digital thermometer from her kit and sliding it against Toby’s forehead while listening to his chest with a stethoscope. Her professional expression tightened slightly. "His temperature is 104.2, and there’s noticeable wheezing in his upper left lobe. We need to get him on oxygen and IV fluids immediately. Let’s get in the back of the unit."
Clara climbed up into the sterile, brightly lit interior of the ambulance, followed closely by Miller. Sarah stayed on the pavement, offering a supportive nod and promising to wait by the trailhead in case anyone came looking.
As the doors slammed shut, sealing off the outside world, the ambulance jerked forward, accelerating smoothly down the road toward the regional medical center. Clara sat on the bench seat, her hands empty for the first time all morning, the sudden absence of Toby’s weight feeling strange and terrifying. She watched as Miller expertly secured an IV line into the tiny, chubby arm of her son, who let out a weak whimper before settling back into a semi-conscious state.
"You did the right thing bringing him out, Mom," Miller said gently, glancing up from her work to meet Clara’s bloodshot eyes. "A fever this high in a one-year-old can turn dangerous fast if left untreated. Is there a father or family member we need to notify?"
Clara swallowed hard, the taste of ash in her mouth. She thought of Connor back at the house, furious and entitled, and Eleanor, standing on the patio in her maroon blouse, defending their pristine image while her grandson burned with fever.
May you like
"No," Clara said firmly, her voice steadying as the ambulance rounded a corner toward the hospital. "Just me. I am his only guardian right now."
Miller didn't ask further questions, recognizing the unspoken trauma etched across Clara’s bruised face and torn dress. Instead, she focused entirely on stabilizing Toby, administering a cooling pediatric saline drip that slowly began to bring the dangerously high temperature down. Clara leaned back against the padded wall of the ambulance, closing her eyes as the flashing lights painted the interior in rhythmic pulses of red and blue, feeling the first true breath of freedom she had known in years.
