On The Other Side

Chapter Twenty-Six: One Of The Good Ones

          I wake up, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. Aggie now sleeps in the bed Milly used, Alex and I sleeping on the mattress given to us by Dec and Crag. Aggie is sleeping soundly, but my little Alex, now a year old, is coughing, his breathing congested.

            I rub his chest, trying to soothe him back to sleep. He settles a little, and my eyes start to close in exhaustion. I’m jarred awake again by his coughing, I lift him in my arms, gently patting his back, but the coughing continues, Alex seeming not able to catch his breath. I switch the lamp on, panic and fear filling my heart.

            “Buachaill milis, sweet boy, mamaí’s here, take a breath, grá.” I try to remember what Dec told me about croupe, what I needed to do if the children ever got it. “Think, Claire, think.” The cold air! That’s it.

           “Aggie, Aggie, wake up, we need to take Alex outside.” I gather my gasping boy in my arms, pulling a groggy Aggie down the stairs and outside into the cool darkness. After a few moments Alex finally seems to catch his breath. Then he starts to cry, his breathing raspy, croupy sounding. Chills make their way down my spine. “Aggie, take my hand, we need Dec.” I can’t wait until morning; Alex needs Declan tonight.

            “What’s wrong with Alex, mamaí? Is he going to die like daidí? Is he?” She tugs on my nightgown as we walk, “Is he? Is Alex going to die? I don’t want him to.” She starts to cry then, her cries mixing with Alex’s coughing. Silent tears course down my cheeks as we hurry around the corner to Dec, and to safety.

            We reach the store, my panic high, my children crying. I pound on the door, yelling for Dec, for Crag. A few minutes later, lights flicker on, I see Dec making his way to the door, worry creasing his brow. “Claire…”

            I interrupt, handing a coughing, crying Alex into his arms, “Please, help. He’s coughing and he can’t breathe. Please.” I wipe the tears from my eyes, picking a whimpering Aggie up, pressing her tear-stained face to my shoulder.

            We make our way upstairs, Craggy readying Dec’s doctors bag. Aggie lunges for him, snuggling to his chest, “Oh my girl, come here, come to Crag.”

          At the top of her lungs, she cries, “Alex is going to die……”

            “No, darlin’, never. Dec will fix him right up.” Crag stands up, cradling Aggie, “Come on downstairs, let’s play some cards.”

            I smile my thanks, going to Declan as he takes care of Alex. “What’s wrong with my baby, Dec? What’s happening?”

          “I think he has pneumonia,” he puts his stethoscope to a squalling Alex’s chest, listening closely. “He’s burning up, Claire. Quick go downstairs and grab a metal tub, we need to give him and cool bath, he feels too hot.”

          Declan’s eyes are full of concern, his lips a thin line.

          I run down the stairs, stumbling down the last few. Crag has Aggie sound asleep in his arms next to the fire.

         “Washing tubs, I need a washing tub,” I whisper frantically.

         I don’t wait for him to answer, just race to the backroom, in the far corner I see a stack of tubs gleaming in the darkness. I yank the tub off the top, the heaviness taking me by surprise, knocking into my leg painfully. I grimace, tears falling freely down my cheeks.

        “Trust Dec, Claire. He won’t let anything happen to the wee one.” Crag’s voice is strong and quiet in the dim glow of the fire, “He knows what he’s doing.”