Chapter 12
12
SOMEHOW, I’D SURVIVED SUNDAY. An enormous help was Hayley completely taking care of Precious, even cleaning the gift the dog had deposited by my bed. But by the next morning, I was certain the Grim Reaper had left me a calling card at my new address, the toilet.
Thank goodness Emma’s mom was on carpool duty today. She’d picked Hayley up and would bring Hayley home after her and Emma’s time at the library after school. Our quick exchange of texts had revealed that the flu had wreaked havoc on their family last week. A piece of information Hayley had neglected to tell me.
I sat on the cold tile floor in my bathroom, sipping Gatorade and trying to muster the strength to return to bed. A clammy chill crawled across my skin. With a groan I reached up for the digital thermometer on the counter. Took my temperature twice. Both readings confirmed my fever-free status. Yesterday I’d ran the identical temps Hayley had. And like Hayley, the fever had subsided quickly. A good thing since I hadn’t been able to keep any meds down. Or liquids. Clearly I’d caught the same flu strain. I had all her symptoms and a new level of sympathy for what she’d gone through.
Resting my aching back against the bottom cabinets, I picked up my phone from the floor and composed a group text to Mayté and Penny. I was supposed to cover the hostess shift this afternoon. And process payroll. They both replied back that they had everything covered. After thanking them, I leaned over the toilet and hurled again.
Precious’s cry pierced the air. Crated in the laundry room, she wasn’t a happy camper. But there was no way I could look after her. Plus, being caged when we weren’t home was her future. At least until she was potty trained. Had this been a normal Monday, she was right where she’d be anyway. Her whining continued. Incessantly. I cleaned myself up and dragged my body to bed, hoping the rat-dog would have mercy on me and hush so I could sleep.
Ping.
I startled at the sound of a text hitting my phone. Through a groggy haze, I rubbed my eyes, peering at my alarm clock on the nightstand. 3:00p.m. I patted the covers all around me, unearthed my cell, and confirmed it was still Monday. Thanks to Precious, I’d only drifted off for twenty minutes. A message from Emma’s mom previewed on my screen.
Elise
Slight change of plans. Something’s come up and I can’t bring Hayley home from the library, but Jacob will. Just wanted you to know.
No flashed through my brain in bold neon, and I pushed myself to a sitting position. My last encounter with the sixteen-year-old came to mind. I’d been dropping Hayley off at Emma’s house. Jacob had grunted a “’Sup” by way of greeting as he’d climbed into his sedan. White earbuds had clogged his ears and shaggy hair had covered his eyes. If those driving hindrances hadn’t been enough, the kid had peeled out of their driveaway like he drove a getaway car, nearly clipping my bumper. I wouldn’t trust him piloting Hayley in a go-kart in an enclosed track, much less a real vehicle on real streets. A blip of energy from somewhere deep within pumped through my dehydrated veins.
I texted a nice thank-you-but-no-thank-you and sunk back into my pillows.
An hour later I slogged down the stairs, lugging the gumbo pot. Humid wind swirled around me, the skies completely masked in dark clouds. A bolt of lightning zigzagged in the distance. I flinched. Looked like we were in for one of our infamous pop-up thunderstorms. My strength drained with each step. You can do this. Once you get to the car, you’ll be okay. I’d regain my vigor after sitting a beat. I reached the landing as a deep rumble of thunder broke across the atmosphere. The live oak’s branches swayed above me, leaves ripping free and twirling in the air. Hopefully I could make it to the library and back before the rain started.
I shuffled past glob after glob of bird poop on the ground. “Cést Fou,” I grumbled, despite my raw throat. “I hope lightning strikes you.” In my car, I shoved the pot to the passenger seat and cranked the engine. The radio instantly filled the silence, squawking the Emergency Alert System notification. A tornado warning had been issued for all of Orleans parish. Great .
I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror and blinked. Was that ... lice? I leaned closer and picked one of the white dots, realization dawning. Darn those new towels! They’d only been through one wash and were still shedding little fuzzies. Ugh! I didn’t have enough time or energy to pick them all free. I shifted the car into reverse, my stomach lurching. I reached for the gumbo pot, hoping the queasiness would pass. What else could possibly go wrong in this moment?
My low gas indicator light flipped on.
Sarah McLachlan.
With hardly any vehicles on the streets due to the weather, I made it to the library in record time. I pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine to save gas. After texting Hayley that I was here and to hurry, I leaned my head against the window and slid my eyes shut. That was much better. I could do this. I just had to get home. Hayley could help me up the stairs. Maybe I’d lie on the floor in my walk-in shower. At this point it wasn’t like I was vomiting food. And lying in a shower seemed more sanitary than next to a toilet.
Tap-tap-tap. I lifted my head (when had it gotten so heavy?) and glanced up to find Micah peering through the window. Concern and a sense of urgency layered his features.
He pulled on the door handle to no avail. A crease formed between his brows. “You need to get inside.” His voice muffled through the glass.
“I’m sick.” I massaged my throbbing temples. “Just send Hayley out.”
He shook his head. “We’re under a tornado warning.” He tried the handle again. “Unlock the door, please.” His please wasn’t so much a pleasantry as an impatient request.
I hit the unlock button.
He immediately opened the door. Warm air and the scent of impending rain barreled in. “You need to get inside. Now.” The wind pulled at his hair and T-Rex Hawaiian shirt, highlighting the flatness of his stomach.
Gracious . Speaking of dinosaurs, he had that Chris Pratt– Jurassic World vibe. One hundred percent smoldering intensity and protectiveness. I angled away, raising my hand to cover my mouth. “I have the flu. I don’t want you catching it.”
“If you don’t exit that car, I will toss you over my shoulder.”
I dropped my hand, indignation sparking within. “You will not Rhett Butler me!”
In one fluid motion, he leaned in and across me, and unclicked my seatbelt. “Start moving, Scarlett.”
He’d done it so fast I hadn’t had the chance to protest his action. Or enjoy the sensation of his body being in such close proximity. And was that cinnamon I’d smelled? Stop that. He has a girlfriend. And was possibly divorced because he hates children. No. That wasn’t right. He wouldn’t have become a librarian if that was true.
Lightning flashed along the opaque sky, and I flinched. Micah stubbornly held his ground, waving his hand at me to hurry.
With a grunt of annoyance, I yanked my keys from the ignition, grabbed my purse and the pot (thankfully empty), and maneuvered out of the car. My tender stomach rolled. Lord, please don’t let me puke in front of this man.
Micah took my purse and keys but left the pot in my care. “Remind me never to eat anything of the gumbo or soup variety you’ve prepared.” He shut my door, and we made our way up the concrete path to the entrance.
“I’d have to actually cook to do that.”
Thunder boomed and the clouds broke, a steady stream of warm rain showering down. I hurried as fast as I could, which wasn’t saying much. Still, Micah stuck to my side. By the time we’d ascended the three steps to the covered porch, the strength I’d built up sitting in the car had vanished. I placed the pot on the ground, ready to take a seat next to it.
Micah looped my purse strap over his shoulder, grabbed the pot, slid an arm around my waist, and all but carried me forward.
Hayley opened the door, her eyes wide and lips pressed in a grim line. “You look terrible.”
“I’m fine.”
She closed the door behind us and took the pot from Micah.
He continued half-toting me past the reception desk and toward the rear of the massive mansion. “The back hallway’s the safest place for us. No windows. And it’s an interior structure.”
“Where’s Emma?” I spoke the words over my shoulder to Hayley.
“Jacob picked her up,” she said. “She’s home.”
Micah adjusted his hold on me. “It’s just us and Nellie.”
Nellie, who loathed all germs. I groaned. We turned the corner and a hallway stretched before us. Nellie stood at the far end, not looking one bit pleased, and I had an inkling it had nothing to do with the tornado warning and everything to do with my current state of sickness.
Micah released his grasp, and I shivered from the loss of his body heat.
Nellie stiffened.
“I don’t have a fever. I’m just cold because I’m wet.” I glanced down at myself. Oof. My vintage Jazz Fest T-shirt clung to my frame, highlighting the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra. Of course . Not that I had much in that department anyway. But still. I took the gumbo pot from Hayley, using it as a shield.
Nellie flattened her back against the wall.
“It’s empty.” I tilted the pot for her to see.
Micah darted into a room off the hallway.
The pot became too heavy to hold, and I set it down, crossing my arms over my chest with another round of shivering. What was the A/C on? Fifty? I took in the goosebumps dotting my arms and my legs. They ran all the way down to my— Oh no . I had on two different socks and shoes. Hello, Punky Brewster.
I glanced up and found Nellie continuing her open, negative assessment of me. Slowly, I raised one of my feet to my butt to hide my fashion faux pas, standing like a flamingo. I quickly lost my balance. Forget it. Who cared at this point anyway?
Micah returned with a Hawaiian shirt, a bottled water, and a folding chair. As he handed me the shirt, he edged closer, examining my hairline.
“It’s not lice!”
A gasp came from the other side of the hallway. “I’m just going to...” Nellie fled several paces, opened a door that revealed the world’s smallest supply closet, and shut herself in.
With a sigh, I tipped my head back in defeat.
Micah and Hayley exchanged barely contained chuckles.
“I bought new towels.” I raised my voice for Nellie to hear. “And they’re still shedding.”
Micah unfolded the chair and set my purse on the floor next to it with the water.
“Thank you.” I gladly lowered onto the seat, my body feeling like it was weighted with sandbags.
“I’ve never seen her this sick,” Hayley said to Micah.
“Are you sure you don’t want it?” I held up Micah’s dry shirt to him. He was as drenched as me. From his T-Rex to his brown slacks.
He lifted a staying hand. “I’m good.”
I slipped the enormous shirt on and buttoned it up, inhaling a clean and crisp scent.
Micah turned, giving me privacy.
Beneath his tent of a shirt, I maneuvered my soaked top off. This entire moment couldn’t have been more opposite from that scene in Flashdance . “You can turn back around.” I draped my wet shirt on the rim of the gumbo pot. At least my nausea had subsided. Now if only I could gain my strength back.
Another cycle of thunder detonated, the walls vibrating.
Hayley inched closer to me, her fingers moving across the screen of her phone. “The radar says the storm should be past us soon.”
“The warning expires in ten minutes.” Micah leaned against the wall and then thought better of it, frowning at the water mark his shoulder left.
The wind yowled its force in an unrelenting siege. Lord, please keep us safe. And everyone at the café.
Hayley lowered to the floor, her attention still on her cell, flipping through pictures she’d taken of her dog. “Precious must be freaking out.”
I continued my prayer. And for Hayley’s sake, please protect Precious. But definitely not that evil bird.
“Have you been drinking and resting?” Micah shifted from one foot to another, studying me.
I shrugged, too exhausted to verse the truth. I was resting as much as one could with a puppy determined to drive me up the wall, and a business no one else could run but me. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Mayté and Penny had handled everything today. Hopefully there weren’t any issues with payroll. I’d only showed Penny how to do it once before. But I did have step-by-step instructions printed. And she knew where they were. But I hadn’t told her about double-checking the physical checks when they arrived tomorrow. Or how to double-check the amounts on the paychecks that had been direct deposited.
Micah stepped forward and gently pinched the skin on my hand. “I think you’re dehydrated.” He took the bottled water and unscrewed the top, handing it to me.
“Thank you, Dr. Guidry.” I tilted my face up, holding eye contact. “But I’m fine.”
He inclined his chin for me to drink. I obeyed, taking a tiny sip, hoping it stayed down.
He scrutinized my mouth. “Your lips are dry.”
“Maybe my lips are always dry.” I set the water at my feet and rubbed an ache at my temples.
“They’re not,” he said. “They’re usually...”
Oh my. Oh my. I slowly lowered my hand.
Pink bloomed in his cheeks, and he retreated a step, his attention landing everywhere but on me.
If my mouth still wasn’t so parched, I’d swallow. I glanced Hayley’s way and was relieved to find her obliviously sucked into her phone.
Micah cleared his throat. “When this storm passes, I’m taking you to the ER.”
“I don’t want to camp out at the ER for hours on end. And I don’t want you around me any more than you’ve been.”
“I already had the flu last week.”
I narrowed my gaze at him.
He held up his hand in a Scout’s honor gesture. “It made its way through my jiujitsu class.”
Jiujitsu? “You take karate?”
He scoffed. “Brazilian jiujitsu is not karate.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Miyagi.”
One edge of his mouth tipped up. “I thought I was Rhett Butler.”
A sigh slipped free. “You’re many things. Including a first-kiss thief.”
His brows rose.
Hayley’s head popped up like a meerkat.
Terrified terriers.
Her entire face lit as though she’d heard the juiciest piece of gossip.
Why oh why had I said that? Maybe my flu was really an advanced case of that Mardi Gras fever. “It was in seventh grade.”
“And it wasn’t a stolen kiss.” Micah crossed his arms, the amusement in his deep olive eyes a contrast to his stance.
A sly grin spread across Hayley’s face. “ I’m in seventh grade.”
My head pounded. “Don’t remind me.”