Fevered
"David, what we're trying isn't working..."
He finds his wife's worried eyes, knowing his own reflect her concern, as Snow once again bathes their daughter's face and neck with a damp cloth. Maybe we should take her to see Dr. Whale?"
His palm moves with the intention to gauge Emma's temperature but before even reaching her forehead, he feels the heat radiating from her skin.
"Ssss'cold," his daughter mumbles, her lids fluttering. She tries to duck further into the cocoon of covers and his heart squeezes painfully. A strangled sound escapes from Snow's lips while her hands tuck the blankets tighter around Emma's shaking body. A watery "shhh" and she turns to him again.
He feels the same desperation. Despite their attempts to break her fever- blankets, cool compresses, medication...Emma's fever is still climbing.
Their doctoring duties had begun a few hours ago when their daughter had returned shivering to the loft in a thick cable knit sweater. As their weather had been unseasonably warm for a Maine spring, they knew instinctively their little girl was ill. And this, their first foray into parenting a sick child, was proving a worrying and heart-wrenching rite of passage. One they both now felt unprepared for.
David's eyes brightened as an idea came to him. "There's one more thing we can try," At Snow's hopeful gasp, he continued. "Help me undress her."
His wife jumps into action with no questions, peeling back the blankets she previously tucked. Between the two of them, they manage to maneuver Emma out of the covers so they can remove her sweater, jeans and socks. She protests the change in clothing with sighs and groans. Clad only in her tank and underwear, her sweat slicked skin goosebumps at the cooling air.
"I'm sorry Em," he whispers apologetically as he bends down to scoop up his sick daughter. At the sudden shift from bed to being held, Emma's arms instinctively wrap around her father's neck and her eyes crack open. Snow leads the way as the three move to the loft bathroom.
No other instructions are necessary. The cold faucet is spun and the stopper is put in to fill the tub. Emma's shakes begin to rival mini tremors as he momentarily sits her on the toilet. Her fingers clutch at his shoulders like a life preserver.
"Nooooo…" she whimpers.
"I know princess," the endearment falls easily. "This isn't going to be pleasant but we need to bring your fever down."
"Bath's ready," Snow interrupts, moving to offer her help with the next step, the most unpleasant part of their daughter's fever breaking.
Taking Emma back into his arms, hardening himself against her soft cries, he lowers her gently into the ice bath.
Whimpers turn to shrieks as the cool water laps against her heated skin. The feverish haze in her eyes is replaced with awareness and she cries intelligibly.
"It's ok Emma," Snow repeats and he can hear her voice crack over Emma's shocked splashing. "It's ok."
As her body gradually gets used to the shift in temperature, her mewling cries lessen to hiccups. From hiccups to stuttering sighs. The water in the tub starts to calm but before it can completely…
Emma reaches for her father's arm, tugging it closer. Tears rest on her cheeks.
"D-ddddad?"
"We're here sweetheart," he soothes. Snow begins to cry in earnest. Their daughter's recognition is a good sign the bath is waging war with her fever.
He kneels closer and to his surprise, Emma turns in the tub. She clenches his shirt at its collar, her teeth chattering. "Ssss'cold. S-sss cold."
Snow rests her hand on Emma's back, an occasional relieved sob breaking through. "You're going to be ok baby."
Cool water soaks into David's shirt, dripping from his daughter's skin, but he doesn't feel the chill. He cradles Emma's head to his chest.
"Daddy's here Emma."