The park had trees and the trees had shade. There were swings, and a merry-go-round too. The park was neat, quiet, with a large fountain at the center. They found a spot on a slope beneath a gnarled sycamore. Grace unpacked the sandwiches; pickle and cheese, apples, a pie; a can of soda each. When they finished eating, Harrison took Florence to the swings and then to the fountain. He left her scooping the water with her hands, and returned to their spot where Grace was reading.
Is she okay? she said.
She’s fine.
He sat down, took in his surroundings and watched his daughter run about, lost in her own world.
At three, the air cooled as a slight southeasterly roamed ashore as though drunk and looking for a good time.
Let’s head back, Grace said, sit by the pool, cool off. Duck could sure use some quiet time. I don’t think she’ll nap today.
Harrison nodded in agreement and called out to Florence who came running up the slope and tripped and fell on her face. She screamed.
Duck! Harrison said, running toward her. He bent down, pushed the hair out of her face and examined the bump already wide and red on her forehead. She cried hard. He scooped her up and carried her back to her mother.
Mommy! she said when Harrison lowered her into Grace’s arms.
She’s fine, Harrison mouthed to her.
Ooh, Duckie; you had a little fall, she said. Should I kiss it better?
Florence nodded miserably.
Oh, you’ve got a little nosebleed too, Grace said. Here, hold this tissue on your nose, put your head back—that’s it—hold it like that for a minute. It’s okay. Shh. It’s all right. There. Look, it’s stopped already. That wasn’t so bad, was it?
No, she said, quietly.
Now let’s clear up your face and wipe your nose, Grace said. She exhaled and looked up at Harrison, who laughed a little. They packed up the picnic, said good-bye to the park and headed back to the hotel.
Grace drew a bath for Florence at bedtime. Her skin smelled of chlorine and her hair was full of sun lotion. Harrison sat on the balcony, smoking, with a cold beer.
Jim? Grace said from the bathroom. Jim, can you come here a minute?
He frowned, put down the bottle and went inside.
What is it? he said, stepping into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Take a look at Florence’s eyes, would you? she said.
Florence was standing up in the bath, covered in bubbles, head tilted back.
What’s the matter? he said, moving closer to look. You okay, Duck?
I feel sick, she said.
He looked at her eyes.
You see? Grace said.
Yeah, he said. Don’t look right, do they?
Concussion?
I don’t know.
Sweetheart, he said, do you feel sick?
She nodded.
He looked at Grace.
What do you think? she said.
Let’s get her to bed, he said. See how she is in the morning.
Okay, Grace said. It’s all right, honey, she said to Florence, you can sit down now.
Florence sat down and stared at the taps. Harrison watched her.
Maybe we’ll try and see a local doctor tomorrow, he said. Reception will know someplace we can go.
I think that would make me feel better, Grace said.
Right, he said. Okay. Time for bed, Duckie. You’ll feel better in the morning. Sleep well now. He kissed her on the head and went back out to the balcony and sat down and drank his beer and thought about his daughter and stayed there for a long time.
The next morning Florence climbed into their bed at five and vomited. They got the telephone number of a local doctor from the hotel’s receptionist.
Eleven-thirty, thank you, Grace said, and hung up the telephone.
Okay, she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. We’ve got you an appointment at the doctor’s. He’s going to take a look at you. Make you feel better.
Florence looked downcast. She hadn’t been sick again but felt dizzy. Her face was hot. Grace tried cooling her down with a cold wash cloth.
Just after eleven, the family made their way downstairs, out of the hotel, to the doctor’s. It was a ten-minute walk. Harrison carried her.
I don’t like doctors, Florence said into his shoulder as they arrived.
You and me both, Duck, he said.
The doctor examined her.
Well, she’s not concussed, he said, sitting down at his desk. I can’t see anything wrong with her. You’ll probably find Florence feels better in a day or two. She might have picked up a bug. You say you’ve been spending time at the pool?
Grace nodded.
If she’s not better by the time you get home, he said, take her to see your regular physician.
The white fan on his desk oscillated, pushing hot air into their faces.
Enjoy the rest of your vacation, he said as they left.
Outside, Grace sat on the wall of the parking lot and said, now what?
Well, Harrison said, we can either have another day here, maybe stay around the hotel, or we can pack up now and get back. What do you think?
Grace looked at her daughter on the wall next to her, feet dangling down, still.