Friday, March 12th, 2004

     It wasn’t until this morning that Mr. Campbell returned with Dr. Miracle, whose real name was Dr. Mercer. The doctor entered Henry’s room before Mr. Campbell as though he knew his way through any hospital. Mr. Campbell, who was now clean-shaven and in a fine grey suit, stood back as Dr. Mercer introduced himself. He looked uncomfortable in his new clothes and pulled at his shirt collar. Dr. Mercer shook hands first with me and then with Graham, who was keeping me company. He looked Henry over.

     “When do we start?” I admit that was a little presumptuous of me.

     “I will start immediately.” He clearly thought it was, too. “You will go home or to work and wait for my call.”

     “I will not!”

     “Madam, please excuse my curtness, but the way I work is good for the both of you. I will contact you when I have news.”

     “The sheriff will contact me.” At my words, Graham stepped forward. “He will stay with you while you work.”

     I went home and went to work the next day, but I couldn’t get any work done. By lunch, I’d heard nothing from Graham. I called him up but got no answer. I had meetings to attend after lunch, but I couldn’t concentrate and just said yes to everything. I don’t know, I may have agreed to a waterslide in front of town hall.

     By the end of my day, I’d had enough. I knew how to handle this in a language Dr. Mercer might understand, so I went over to Mr. Spencer’s practice and let myself in. Mr. Campbell was at his desk, crying. His face was beet red. Albert had his hands on Mr. Campbell’s shoulders. He saw me and looked totally confused.

     “He’s been like this for over an hour now. He won’t tell me why. I didn’t know what to do.”

     I knew what to do. We took Mr. Campbell back to the hospital and admitted him immediately.

     “We may have released him from the hospital too soon.” One of the aids said.

     “No, it’s the fever.” I knew it was. What else could it be?

      Moments later, Graham came out to see me.

     “There you are! Why haven’t you called me?” I got right in his face.

     “I’ve been all over town for Dr. Mercer.” Graham tried to put his hands on my shoulders, but I smacked them off.

     “I told you to watch him!”

     “It’s all right.” He made his voice as soothing as he could. “He’s been running tests all day. Henry’s doing fine.”

     Dr. Mercer showed up just then. He was wearing one of the white coats from our hospital.

     “I’ve cancelled my symposium in Boston.” At least he could see how important this was. “I’ve never seen anything like this. I’ve reached all of my contacts and no one is to bother me while I solve this.”

     “But how long do you think this will take? How long can Henry remain like this?”

     “His vitals are good. Despite whatever he has, your son’s a strong little boy. If I may, I’d like to talk more about this to you. Would you come with me to the cafeteria? I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

     “Would you like an apple?” I reached for the one in my purse.

     “No thank you. I don’t like apples.”

     We went to the cafeteria. As he sat down at the table with his lunch, Dr. Mercer’s coat opened up, revealing Kurt’s old shirt.

     “All I came with was the suit I was wearing and a suitcase full of clothes for weather much warmer than this.” Dr. Mercer smiled for the first time. “Mr. Campbell was kind enough to lend me warmer clothes.” He saw the face I made. “He assured me they’re clean.”

     “You’re not worried that you could get sick just by wearing his clothes? He was just admitted too.”

     “We may find out, but so far, I’m not.” He was very good at speaking clearly while stuffing food into his mouth. “You say you’ve seen this before?”

     “Yes, in small children like Henry. But it doesn’t make any sense why Dr. Whale or Mr. Campbell would be affected.”

     “We don’t know how it’s transmitted yet, but I’ve been able to rule out that it’s airborne. Otherwise, we might have a pandemic on our hands. But the fact that three people are hospitalized in just a week in a town as small as this is worrisome.”

     I waited while he drank his carton of milk in two gulps.

     “I’ll tell you what I’ve done today, apart from study the patients. Usually, the amount of people who check into hospitals for whatever is going around is only a small percentage of those who are actually infected. So I got the sheriff to help me find as many people as possible who came into contact with Dr. Whale and Henry within the last seventy-two hours and tested them. I took a small sample of everyone’s blood.” He paused as a thought occurred to him. “Now I should probably test those who came in contact with Mr. Campbell—“

     “That won’t be necessary. He—was just released from the hospital. I’m sure whoever you tested for Dr. Whale will be sufficient.”

     “Well, I questioned everyone I tested. It seems this town had some sort of celebration last week?”

     “Miner’s Day,” I nodded. “But as I said, Mr. Campbell wasn’t there.”

     “But your son and the doctor have something in common, so I’ve heard, and I’m wondering if Mr. Campbell shares that commonality. May I see that apple again?”

     I reached in my purse and handed it to him. He turned it in his hands and examined it.

     “What kind of apple is this?”

     “Honey crisp.” That sounded reasonable to me.

     “Are you sure?” Not to him, though, apparently. “I’ve never seen an apple to look this good in the coldest part of winter.”

     “The tree comes from a very hearty stock.”

     “Can you remember if Mr. Campbell has eaten one of these recently?”

     “Yes. I gave him one before he left to pick you up. Also, he had one of my apple turnovers the last time he and his—he came over for dinner.”

     “I’d like to examine this, as well as your tree.”

     “You think my apples carry waking fever?”

     “I do.” His confidence frightened me. The tree was the only thing brought over from home. Did I bring waking fever to Storybrooke, to kill anyone who wasn’t already immune?

     “What if you’re wrong?”

     “Then this is going to take a lot longer, and I don’t know how long I can keep your son alive.”

Thursday, March 11th, 2004

     I guess I fell asleep. At least I knew that Henry was sleeping and while he wasn’t getting better, he wasn’t getting worse. I remembered pulling a chair up beside his little bed and everything getting very calm and quiet for what felt like only a few minutes. But I was startled awake when Kathryn placed a hand on my shoulder.

     “It’s just me!” Kathryn reacted as quietly as she could to my gasp. “Everything’s fine! Henry’s fine. See?”

     Henry breathed easily in his medicated sleep.

     “I’m so scared, Kathryn.” Five seconds awake, and already I was crying. “I worked so hard to have him and now I could lose him. No one knows how to help him and it’s my fault he’s sick.”

     “Hey, hey, no.” She went in for the hug. “It isn’t your fault. Sometimes children get sick.” The hug continued until I calmed down. “I’ve got some good news.” Kathryn pulled back and reached into her purse. “I was looking online last night to see if I could figure out what Henry had, but no one on the internet’s heard of waking fever. But…” She pulled out some printed pages. “I found a doctor who works all over the world. Some call him Dr. Miracle because he goes wherever there’s great disease and cures as many people as he can.”

     I was too tired and upset to make a sarcastic remark. Instead, I looked at the pages Kathryn handed me. A black and white picture of a man with dark hair and strong features looked back at me with large, dark eyes. The headline read, “Dr. Miracle Stops Another Polio Outbreak”.

     “I emailed him about Henry’s symptoms, but then I felt silly.” Kathryn laughed. “Why would such an amazing doctor write back to me? But, Regina, he did! Almost right away! He wants to come and help Henry!”

     I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. While the medical knowledge in this world is superior to the knowledge back home, I’m still suspicious of anyone who is touted as able to perform miracles. One doctor was introduced to me that way before, and he’s currently sedated in the room next to my son’s.

     “He’s actually on his way to Boston for a symposium!” Kathryn’s instinct to jump with excitement was repressed to a bounce out of respect for the circumstances. “He’s willing to fly out early to help out here! All you have to do is pick him up.”

     “No!” I knew how this would turn out. “If he’s able to help my son, I’m grateful, but I’m not leaving Henry. I have to stay here. What if—?” There came the tears. I would not leave him. Too many people have left their children, and for what? Jefferson left his daughter, Snow and Charming gave up their child and all of them are cursed. Even Henry’s real mother gave him up, and I hope she suffers daily. But I would not abandon my son.

     “Is there someone you could send on your behalf? All he needs is for someone to bring him here.”

     “No one can get him—“ Then I remembered someone I could use; someone else who had abandoned their child.

     “Watch my son, please. I just thought of someone and need to make arrangements. I’ll only be a couple of hours. Call me if anything changes. You’ll call me, won’t you?”

     “Of course.”

     I drove back to my safe haven and used the last of my gifts, all the while thinking of a back story. Soon I was back to the hospital, only this time I went to the lower level. There’s a different smell down in that part of the hospital. It still has the smell of cleanliness, but with a burning smell of stronger, older cleaning agents. The nurse behind the desk wished Henry well before I walked into the room next to Belle’s. Kurt slept soundly as all of the machinery that monitored him flashed and beeped. I uncorked the little glass bottle in my hand and poured its contents into his IV drip. The fluid turned purple before becoming clear again. I waited only a minute before Kurt’s eyes began to flutter. He took a deep breath and looked at me.

     “Mayor Mills?” The monitors behind him beeped faster.

     “Good evening, Mr. Campbell.” I smiled as he acknowledged this name. “I heard you might be finally waking up. I’ll alert the nurse. Are you feeling well?”

     He nodded slowly. “What happened?”

     “You were in a car accident. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Your car was totaled, and the doctors were able to save you. They did a good job. It looks as though you don’t have any scars. But you were out for quite a while. Is there anyone you want me to call? Any family?”

     “I don’t have any family.”

     “Well, I’ll call your boss, Mr. Spencer.” I pulled out my phone. No calls from Kathryn. “He’ll be pleased to know his best lawyer is finally awake.”

     Albert came as soon as I called and accepted immediately that Mr. Campbell had always worked for his firm. Mr. Campbell was found to be in perfect health and released immediately. The two lawyers followed me to Henry’s room. Kathryn showed them the papers, and no one found it odd when I suggested a man who had only been released from the hospital minutes ago drive down to Boston to get this miracle doctor.

     “We’ll get you into some proper clothes first.” Albert assured his associate. “The ones you’re wearing make you look more like a lumberjack than a lawyer.”

     “Fine,” Mr. Campbell agreed, “but can I get some food first? I feel like I haven’t eaten in twenty years.”

     “Here, have this.” I handed him an apple from my tree. I always keep one on me just in case. “Until you can find something more substantial.”

     Mr. Campbell thanked me by taking the apple and taking a large bite. The two gentlemen left and Mr. Campbell promised he’d be on the road within the hour. As soon as he crossed the town line, Mr. Campbell would remain Mr. Campbell and Kurt would be no more.

Tuesday, March 9th, 2004

     I’m exhausted and sitting beside my son. I’m writing this in a journal from the hospital gift shop and will transfer it to my diary later. Henry was finally admitted and is being closely watched, and he’s not the only one.

      The doctors still aren’t sure what’s wrong with him, even though I am. He’s been given a sedative and is actually sleeping. The nurse who administered it said it was strong enough to knock out a very large dog or small horse.

     It was quite a struggle to get him admitted, though. We actually had to sit in the waiting room for three hours before anyone would see him. We were finally allowed in a room. I held Henry on my lap as he continued to cry and squirm. Dr. Whale and an attendant came in soon after. The doctor looked flushed, which I attributed to how busy the hospital seemed to be. He told me Dr. Gordon had been notified and then asked me what was wrong.

     “Dr. Whale, my son needs to be admitted. He has waking fever.”

     “I’ve never heard of that.” Small beads of sweat on the doctor’s forehead became visible as he came closer to check Henry’s vitals. “According to Dr. Gordon’s notes, all symptoms point to the flu.”

     “It’s not the flu. He hasn’t slept in two days. I don’t know how to fix this.”

     “Sorry, but I’m certain Dr. Gordon knows exactly what she’s talking about.” He pretended to listen to what I was saying and started to check Henry’s forehead, but winced and stepped back as my son continued to scream on my lap. “Just give him lots of fluids. I can prescribe some medicine that will help him sleep, if you like.”

     “Dr. Gordon already prescribed some, but it isn’t working. Please—“

     “Miss Mills, I don’t know why you’re wasting my time! And can you please calm your son?!” Dr. Whale whipped around and took a deep breath. He slowly faced me again and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his white coat. “Sorry.” He expected me to be upset, and I was, but not for the reason he expected.

     One of the symptoms of waking fever is irritability, which usually translates to fits of crying in children. Adults don’t usually contract it because the illness claims its victims long before they can reach that age.

     “Doctor, how long has it been since you’ve slept?” I asked.

     “I don’t know—a couple of days, perhaps? Sometimes things can get very busy here.”

     “But you usually find time to sleep?”

     “Usually.” Dr. Whale’s tense face relaxed. “Waking fever, you said?” I nodded.  He turned to his attendant and muttered something before excusing himself. The attendant assured me someone was coming in right away before leaving, herself.

     About ten minutes later, Dr. Gordon entered the room.

     “Where’s Dr. Whale?” I asked, knowing the answer.

     “We had to admit him.” She answered. “He’s running a fever and seems to be experiencing symptoms similar to your son. Miss Mills, we’d like to admit Henry.”

Monday, March 8th, 2004

     I am panicking right now. Henry is not well. He’s been crying all night and won’t sleep. It’s been like this for two nights. At first, I didn’t know what was going on and took him to his pediatrician, Dr. Gordon. She assured me he probably has the flu and will be fine as long as I give him fluids before prescribing something for his fever. But he wouldn’t sleep again last night. That was when I recognized the symptoms. I know this illness. It’s from back home.

     We called it waking fever, and it usually struck children around Henry’s age. Once someone was affected, they wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. In about a week, the afflicted would die from the fever and exhaustion. Only a handful of children would contract it back home, mainly because parents would make their children drink tea from an herb that was plentiful back home every night for about a year. That handful of children who got sick were allergic to the herb and therefore couldn’t take it. Parents of children with waking fever could always come to someone like Rumpelstiltskin or my mother for a magical cure. Naturally, the price would be allegiance or something of great value like that.

     It then occurred to me that the makings for the cure for waking fever were part of the five gifts in my safe haven! I was so relieved that I could make the potion and my son would be cured in a matter of minutes. I called Kathryn over to watch Henry. I lied and said I was going to Mr. Clark’s to pick up a prescription.

     But I don’t have it! I searched and searched, but it’s gone! The kit couldn’t have been stolen; I’ve always been very careful to make certain I’ve never been followed to my safe haven. No one else knows what lies beneath my father’s tomb, so either I’ve miscounted what I have… or I used it. I’ve thought about when I could have possibly used it, but nothing comes to mind. And I’m certain there were five gifts. I sat on a couch and counted to myself:

     One, Daniel’s coin.

     Two, my keys to let me in anywhere in Storybrooke.

     Three, the kit to make the stasis curse I placed on Kurt when Owen left.

     I should have two more pieces of magic left, but the only thing left is the kit I was going to use to give the Savior a cursed persona if she ever came to Storybrooke.

     There is only one reason I can’t remember what happened to that set of potions: I used them to make a forgetting charm for myself. It uses the same ingredients found in that set. I’ve never had a desire to reread what I wrote in 2001, and flipping back in my diary to find those pages blank confirms my fears. Clearly, the price of casting that charm is the inability to save my son.

     I came home even more upset than when I left. Kathryn tried to calm me down and said the medicine used to bring Henry’s fever down worked a little bit. She told me she’d watch him so I could sleep, but I can’t. I can hear my son upset because he can’t sleep. I need to take him back to the hospital. Maybe they’ll know what to do once I tell them what it is?

Friday, March 5th, 2004

     Yesterday was Miner’s Day and Henry had so much fun. He’s at an age now where he can appreciate all of the fun things that go on at the fair. He ran around with the children his age and we played and had fun. He’s such a happy little boy, and everyone told me how adorable he is—not that they need to tell me.

     It was the perfect day for the fair. We’ve had a really harsh winter this year, but it was as if the sun came out yesterday just for the occasion. The whole town was present to purchase candles and take part in the festivities. There are several competitions that take place on Miner’s Day, and I always participate in two of them: the pastry competition and the pasta cook-off.

     I had to be present for both events, so Kathryn watched Henry while I presented my entries to the judges. He was hungry, anyway, so Kathryn gave him a snack of crackers and apple slices. He munched as the two of them watched me compete.

      The panel was made up of a group chosen by the nuns. Mother Superior was the head of the judge’s panel, followed by Sidney, Miss Blanchard and for the first time, Dr. Whale. He was replacing Mr. Gold, who was liked by no one as a judge but always scored my lasagna high. I felt no need to involve myself in choosing the panel, as I was confident in what I made. The four of them all tried my apple turnover and loved it. Everyone was only supposed to try a bite, but Dr. Whale ate all of his. When the time came to announce the winner, it was no surprise to me when I won the blue ribbon.

     What was a surprise to me was Granny winning first place in the pasta cook-off. Her winning dish: lasagna! My lasagna has won first place ever since a pasta cook-off was introduced at my suggestion. She only started serving lasagna at her restaurant after she tried mine at one of these cook-offs. I’ve had her lasagna before and I guess it’s fine, if you don’t want equal amounts of cheese and meat. And you want the pasta to be so al-dente that the filling squeezes out once you set a fork to it. If that’s what people consider good lasagna to taste like, I won’t argue. I just get even.

     This morning, I stepped into Granny’s diner and out of the freezing rain that had returned. Ruby and Granny stood behind the counter as Granny instructed her how to fill out a ledger. Ruby smiled at me and seemed relieved to have someone interrupt.

     “I’m sorry that I have to be there bearer of bad news.” I would say that Granny grimaced at my words, but her face always looks like that. “It has just come to my attention that the town has an ordinance that won’t allow people to teach any classes that could potentially injure someone unless they’re certified by the state. This means your aerobics class, Ruby, so I’m sorry, but you need to stop teaching. I’m just as surprised and disappointed as you.”

     “I bet you are.” Granny put her hands on her hips. “I suppose this ordinance went into effect this morning?”

     “No it didn’t.” Yes it did. “It’s actually been on the books for quite a while.” Ever since last night after the Miner’s Day festivities ended.

     “This is ridiculous. No one has ever been injured in one of her classes.”

     “It’s all right.” Ruby chimed in. “I’ll just get certified.”

     “At this time, Storybrooke is not offering any certification classes.” I shrugged.

     “I can find a ton of places that can give me certification on the internet.” The love that Ruby and everyone else seem to have for the internet is not something I share. I can’t control the internet like I could the library or even the television station, but the curse seems to allow it. The only reason I can think of is because people need to stay home in order to use it.

     “I’m sure there are many schools you can find as close as Portland,” I consented, “but they would probably require you prove your ability to teach in person. And no one’s stopping you from going to school to be an aerobics instructor, if that’s what you want to do with your life.”

     Ruby exhaled and her shoulders slumped a little. She looked to her always-frowning grandmother, who certainly didn’t want her to do that with her life.

     “I’ll think about it.” Sometimes it’s just too easy to sway people.

     “I do have a bit of good news.” I turned my collar up and prepared to go back outside. “Our chamber of commerce is going to have their annual luncheon on Friday, and we’d love it if you’d cater it with your first place lasagna. Well, I’ve got to run!”

2001