Mei sohn needs to see Doktah Roswell. It's an emergency." Mattie Diener stood before the receptionist's window with three-year-old Nathan on one hip, and Amanda, her eighteen-month-old daughter, teetered on her other.

The young woman looked up from her computer screen and slid the sign-in log closer to Mattie. "What's Nathan's problem today, Mrs. Diener?"

"He's nett himself." Mattie gently lowered Amanda to the floor at her side in order to free her hand to sign the forms. She jotted the pertinent information on the log, then handed the clipboard back to the receptionist.

Mattie cradled Nathan tighter to her chest as heat radiated from his little body. She'd given him feverfew earlier, but this time the herb did little to bring his fever down. Mattie placed her hand on his moist forehead. "He's burning up."

The woman's eyes widened as if seeing Nathan for the first time. "And I see he has a rash." She removed the headset that connected her to the telephone, rolled her chair back from the desk, and stood.

"Jah, it's a ... heat rash."

The receptionist held up one finger. "Stay right there. I'll get the nurse." She disappeared behind the partitioned wall of file cabinets.

Little Amanda clung to Mattie's legs, her round face buried in the folds of Mattie's dress. She should have asked her best friend Grace to watch Amanda. Her daughter was shy around strangers. Although not a bad thing, it did make her daughter clingy, even more so when she was overly tired. Amanda's crankiness had started last week when the temperature had risen above eighty, a record high for the second week of June in Michigan's Upper Peninsula.

Whispers spread amongst the roomful of people. Mattie glanced over her shoulder and scanned the waiting room with an apologetic smile. Doctor Roswell's office was always abuzz with patients. Well respected in Badger Creek, the country doctor took his time listening to his patients' concerns no matter how many people waited to see him.

She'd brought Nathan into the office numerous times since his birth three years ago. Doctor Roswell always managed to squeeze her son into his busy day. She studied her sleeping son. Nathan's lips were cracked, and he was panting with shallow breaths, his face blotchy with a beet-red, prickly heat rash. Oh, please hurry.

A few moments later, the door leading to the back hallway opened, and the nurse ushered Mattie and the children down the hall and into one of the empty rooms. "What brings you in today, Mrs. Diener?"

"Nathan's had a high fever most of yesterday and today." Mattie lowered Nathan onto the paper-lined table. He flailed his arms, but Mattie was able to settle him by gently stroking the side of his face. "I gave him feverfew, but it hasn't helped. The rash just started." Amanda tugged on Mattie's dress. She bent down and gathered her daughter into her arms.

The nurse eyed him closely. "It doesn't look like chicken pox to me," she mumbled.

Made sense why they had rushed her into a back room. Avoid the possible risk of spreading the virus. Only this wasn't chicken pox. She'd cared for her younger sisters when they were covered in spots, so she knew Nathan's was a simple fever rash. "I agree," Mattie said. "I think it's a heat rash."

"We'll let the doctor do the diagnosing." The nurse placed the tip of the ear thermometer in Nathan's ear and held it in position until it beeped. She discarded the plastic protective cap, then returned the instrument to the wall charger.

"He has a fever, doesn't he?" Mattie's dress was still damp from his sweat.

"Yes, it's 102.6." She jotted the number on the paper attached to a clipboard. "You said he's had a fever for two days. Any vomiting or diarrhea?"

"Nay."

The nurse placed her hand on Nathan's wrist and monitored her watch. Afterward, she made a few notations on the form. "He isn't normally this quiet, is he?"

Mattie shook her head.

The nurse crossed the room and paused at the door. "The doctor will be in to see him shortly."

Mattie lifted her hand to Nathan's head and brushed the mop of wet curls away from his face. Bands of sweat dotted his forehead. "Lord, he's so frail. Please watch over him. Mei children are all I have," she whispered as the door opened.

A thirtysomething woman wearing a cranberry-colored dress under a long, white doctor's coat entered. As she crossed the room, her matching cranberry heels clacked against the laminate floor.

"I'm Doctor Wellington," she said, extending her hand.

Mattie shook the woman's smooth hand and tried to hide her surprise at how firm the doctor's grasp was for a woman. "I'm Mattie Diener. Where's Doctor Roswell? I hope nothing has happened to him."

The woman smiled. "He's on sabbatical."

Mattie crinkled her brows, unsure if that was good or bad.

"A much-needed vacation," the doctor explained, moving to the sink to wash her hands. Her friendly demeanor shifted to a professional nature once she approached Nathan. "How long has he had the red blotches on his face?" She began unbuttoning his shirt.

"They just appeared. I think the fever brought them on." Mattie scrutinized the doctor's facial expression. If the doctor was alarmed by Nathan's mottled chest, her expression didn't show it. Doctor Wellington continued the assessment, pressing her hand on Nathan's abdomen in several places. Her son's lips curled into a slight frown and his eyes opened. He stared several seconds, almost stupor-like, then closed them again.

"Is he normally this lethargic?"

"He's nett acting like himself, if that's what you're asking."

She scanned the nurse's notes. "You gave him feverfew?"

"Jah. Normally it brings his fever down in a few hours, but nett this time."

"How much did you give him?"

Mattie shook her head. "I didn't measure the exact amount. I made it into a broth. Yesterday he drank it throughout the day, but today he refused it."

She reviewed the chart. "No vomiting or diarrhea. How has his appetite been?"

"Other than the broth, he hasn't eaten anything since yesterday morning, and it wasn't much. Usually I can encourage him to breastfeed when he refuses everything else, but he wasn't interested."

"How often does he breastfeed?"

"When he's sick, restless. The attachment seems to calm him down."

Nathan stirred. He opened his eyes, then blinked a few times under the room's bright lights. As if focusing for the first time on the doctor, his eyes widened and he let out a shrill cry.

"It's okay. I'm right here," Mattie said in Pennsylvania Deitsch. She reached for his tiny hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "This is Doktah Wellington."

His gaze slowly drifted to the opposite side of the table but darted back to Mattie, his face puckering with fear.

"Bruder kronk?" Amanda began to whimper.

"Shh ..." Mattie kissed her daughter's temple. "Your big bruder is going to be okay."

Doctor Wellington leaned closer to him. "Can you tell me your name?"

Nathan ignored the doctor and locked his gaze on Mattie.

"His name is Nathan," she volunteered. "He doesn't know many Englisch words yet." She looked fondly at her son. His rosy cheeks brought out his blue eyes, the spitting image of his father, her late husband. Andy's cheeks would turn red after he'd worked outside in...