Sarah's Child (19 page)

Ill be fine, she reassured him, hating the congested sound of her voice. Dont kiss me; youll get germs!

Im immune to your germs, he said, kissing her anyway. He folded her in his arms, gently rubbing her back. Poor baby. Id like to stay with you.

Id like for you to stay with me too, she grumbled, something shed never have said if she hadnt had a cold. Actually I feel a little better today. Im not as tired.

Maybe youre finally getting over it. He surveyed her critically. Its about time. If you arent better tomorrow, see a doctor, and thats an order.

Yes, sir, she said smartly, earning herself a slap on the bottom.

He called that night as hed promised. Shed closed the store early when a cold rain turned into sleet, as she hadnt wanted to get trapped by bad weather, so shed been home long enough to spend an hour lolling in a hot tub, with the steam clearing her stuffy nose, and consequently she felt much better. Her voice was almost normal when she talked to him.

The next morning, however, she woke with a terrible pounding headache, and every joint in her body felt as if someone were beating her with a hammer. Her throat was on fire, and nausea roiled in her stomach at the very thought of food. Great, she told her bleary reflection in the mirror. Ive got the flu.

Having the flu was the very devil. She ached all over from the fever that accompanied it, but every time she tried to take anything for her temperature, her stomach revolted. She tried drinking hot tea, but that didnt work. She tried drinking a cold soft drink, but that didnt work. She tried drinking milk, and that was awful. She made Jell-O and tried to eat that, but she was gagging after the second bite. Giving up, she made an ice pack for her head and took a lukewarm bath, lying in water that felt cool to her feverish body, with the ice pack reposing on her head.

When a sudden chill swept over her, making her shake so hard that she could barely climb from the tub, she gave up trying to deal with it and simply went to bed, pulling the covers over her while she was having a chill, and throwing them back when she was feverish. Her head was aching so badly, shed have sworn shed never rest, but she fell into a deep sleep and woke only when her telephone rang.

Sarah? demanded Marcie anxiously. Thank God! Derek just called me from a pay phone because the store wasnt open. He thought something must have happened to you.

It has, Sarah croaked morosely. Ive got the flu. Im sorry, I shouldve thought to call Derek this morning before he left for school.

Dont worry about that. Let me call Derek back at the pay phone to let him know youre all right, then Ill be up to see about you.

Ill be okay, and you might catch Sarah began, but Marcie had already hung up.

Im not going to die, she grumbled, as the knowledge that Marcie was coming up forced her to drag her weak, aching body out of bed to unlock the door. Why does she have to see about me today? Why cant she wait until tomorrow? Maybe Ill be ready to die by then.

She walked like someone with a hangover, holding her pounding head with both hands, as if she were afraid it would fall off. The truth was the exact opposite: The way it was hurting, she wished her head would fall off. Every step she took was torture, with her body aching and her head throbbing. Even her eyes hurt.

She unlocked the door and crept into the kitchen, thinking about trying another bite or two of Jell-O. She opened the refrigerator door, looked at the green mass quivering wildly at her, and slammed the door again. No way could she eat something that was moving.

The door opened, and Marcie called, Where are you?

Im in here, Sarah croaked. Honest, Marcie, you dont want this. For your own sake, leave.

Ive had my flu shot this year, replied Marcie, entering the kitchen. Ye gods, you look awful!

Then, I look exactly the way I feel. Im starving! I want something to eat, but all I have to do is look at food and I start upchucking.

Crackers, said Marcie. Saltines. Do you have any?

I dont know, Sarah moaned.

Where would they be?

Up there, she replied, waving her hand at the highest cabinet.

They would be, Marcie muttered, dragging over a chair she could stand on. She got down the box of saltines and took out a sealed pack, then replaced the rest of them.

Were going to try the routine doctors give pregnant women: weak tea and soda crackers. Think you can manage it?

I doubt it, but Ill try.

Marcie hustled Sarah back to bed, dampened a washcloth in cool water and placed it over her forehead, then stuck a thermometer in her mouth. She came back several minutes later bearing a cup of tea and one lone soda cracker on a napkin. After plucking the thermometer from Sarahs mouth, she looked at it and lifted an eyebrow. You definitely have a fever.

Sarah sat up and nibbled at the cracker, almost afraid to swallow even a crumb. The tea tasted good as it wet her parched throat, and for a moment she felt better. Then her stomach began to twist, and she hauled herself out of the bed. No good, she reported, then had to bolt.

Derek came up to see her, and she groaned aloud. What is it with everybody? Why do you want to catch the flu? Im contagious!

Derek gave her a serene look. I dont get sick.

Of course not. What germ or virus would dare even sit on that perfect body?

The second day Marcie wanted to call Rome, but Sarah refused to consider it. What could he do from a distance of a thousand miles? All the call would accomplish would be to distract him. Marcie was concerned because Sarahs fever had climbed even higher and she had a wracking cough. She couldnt eat anything the second day either. Marcie kept her sponged off with cool water, trying to keep the fever down, but Sarah grew even more listless and pale. Marcie spent the night on the floor beside Sarahs bed, listening to the deep hollow-sounding cough, prepared to haul Sarah off to a hospital at any time.

The third night Rome called. Marcie snatched up the telephone on the first ring, because the noise hurt Sarahs head so much.

Its about time you called, Rome Matthews! she fumed, breathing fire. Your wife is almost dead, and its three days before you check in!

Rome was silent for three full seconds, then barked, What? Whats wrong with Sarah?

She says its just the flu, but Im afraid its turning into pneumonia. Her fever is high, its been three days since shes had anything to eat, and she sounds like a hollow drum when she coughs. I cant talk her into going to the doctor; she just lies there and says to give it time. Damn you, Rome, you get back here!

Ill be there on the earliest flight I can catch.

I heard all that, Sarah said weakly when Marcie entered her bedroom. I do not have pneumonia. I have a dry cough.

Protest all you want; when Rome gets home, then youll do what you should, instead of lying here getting worse.

Hes coming back? she asked, and even as badly as she felt, her eyes got brighter.

Of course hes coming back. He said hed take the next flight out.

Sarah felt conscience-stricken. Oh, no! He cant be half through all he had scheduled.

Itll wait, Marcie said grimly.

Rome wasnt going to like being called back from a business trip, Sarah thought glumly. She was sick, but she wasnt that sick. Still, it was more Romes place to tend to her than it was Marcies, and she knew that Marcie had other duties, as well as her freelance work to be done.

Marcie, if you have work you need to be doing, Ill be all right by myself, she offered.

Marcie gave her an incredulous look. Sure you will; youre so weak, you cant even get to the bathroom by yourself. Look, will you stop worrying about imposing on someone and just let yourself be taken care of? Youre not being a nuisance, and youre really sick. No ones going to think any less of you because you caught the flu.

Sarah didnt feel like listening to any logic. Her fever was rising again, making her bones and muscles ache, and she twisted restlessly on the sheets. Recognizing the signs, Marcie began to sponge her down again.

The fever made Sarah feel disoriented. Time became elastic, making a few minutes drag by like molasses in January; then all of a sudden several hours would telescope into nothing. She woke once to find Derek sitting by her bed reading, and she said, Why arent you in school?

He looked up. Because its three o clock on Saturday morning. Ive made some tea; would you like to try drinking some?

She groaned aloud, because for three days shed been trying to drink tea, and for three days it had been coming back up. But she was so thirsty, she felt parched, and she said Please.

He brought what looked like an ounce of tea in a cup, and Sarah drank it. Is that all Im allowed?

For right now. If that stays down for half an hour, Ill give you another swallow. Ive been reading up on influenza, he said.

Well, that explained it. Because Derek tried it, it worked, even though Marcie had been unsuccessfully pouring tea down her for three days. Sarahs stomach rolled several times but remained under control, and she drifted off to sleep again before Derek could dole out her second ounce of tea.

She woke again several hours later to find Rome sitting on the side of her bed, his hand on her forehead and his dark face taut with worry. Youre going to catch it too, she said, feeling obliged to give her standard warning, though everyone else had ignored it and she didnt see why Rome should pay any attention to it either.

I dont get sick, he murmured absently, and she made a disgusted sound.

Not you too! All you healthy people make me sick. Derek doesnt get sick either. Marcie had her flu shot. I suppose Im the only person in Dallas who gets sick!

Actually theres a flu epidemic, he said, noting how fretful she was. Her skin was dry and hot, her hair dull and lifeless, and dark bruised-looking shadows lay under her dulled eyes. He lifted a cup to her lips. Drink this.

She drank it, and the cool, fresh taste was delicious. What is it?

Peppermint tea. Derek made it.

Her back was hurting so badly, she turned on her side, wincing as she searched for a comfortable position. Im sorry Marcie told you to come home. Its really just the flu, instead of pneumonia like she said, and I think Im getting over it.

Youre still pretty sick, and Id rather be here. He rubbed her back, knowing without being told that she was aching. She was soon asleep again.

She slept a great deal, and she was listless and cranky when she was awake. Her fever yo-yoed up and down, and when it was at its highest point, she sank into a stupor. Rome stripped her and bathed her in cool water, and when shed roused a little, he risked giving her aspirin to bring the fever down. For an hour or so she seemed to feel better, and she sat in a chair while he put fresh sheets on the bed. He fed her a soda cracker and more peppermint tea, and she went to sleep.

He sat up until he felt he couldnt keep his eyes open a moment longer. He didnt dare leave her, but he was afraid that if he slept on the floor, he might not awaken when she became restless with fever again. Without hesitating, he took off his clothes and got into bed beside her, lying on his side with one hand touching her, so hed know if she started tossing around.

She woke him up twice during the night, twisting around trying to ease the aching of her body. Once she went into a paroxysm of coughing, and he winced at the deep, harsh sound. No wonder Marcie had been alarmed!

Im all right! she said aggressively, her thin colorless face set in mutinous lines. He put his hand on her cheek, feeling for a rise in fever, because hed said nothing to set her off. She glared at him. I hate being sick.

I know, he soothed.

Youre sleeping in my bed, she accused. You lied. You told me you couldnt sleep with a woman. Ive always wanted you to sleep with me, but you never would. Why are you here now, when I dont feel like fooling around?

Despite himself, he grinned. Lifting the cup of tea to her lips, he held it while she gulped thirstily. Just a case of bad timing, I guess. Boy, are you going to regret talking like this when youre feeling better.

I know, she agreed, and pouted. But its the truth anyway. Rome, when am I going to be well? Im so tired of hurting all over. My legs hurt, my back hurts, my neck hurts, my head hurts, my throat hurts, my stomach hurts, my eyes hurt, and even my skin hurts! Enough is enough!

I dont know, honey. Maybe tomorrow. Do you want me to rub your back?

Yes, she agreed instantly. And my legs. That makes me feel better.

He pulled off her nightgown and helped her to roll over on her stomach. Gently he kneaded her aching muscles, and even though shed lost weight she hadnt needed to lose, he still found himself admiring the clean, delicate lines of her body. Her long legs were fantastic, so slim and straight and well-rounded. Her bottom was a feminine work of art, shaped just right to drive a man mad. He placed his hand on one satiny buttock, and even in her illness, she smiled a little.

I like that. I like it when you touch me. When Im better, will you make love to me again?

You can bet on it, he said under his breath. He moved up to massage her back, feeling the fragility of her ribs just under her skin.