Chapter 22 Danielle
Danielle
The remote landed on the couch beside Danielle with a soft thud as it hit the fleece blanket that usually only made appearances when one of them was sick.
She was struggling to focus on the show she was watching, so she closed her eyes and focused on trying to breathe through her congested sinuses instead.
It was only a head cold, she kept reminding herself. A head cold shouldn’t knock her out of commission like this. But she figured she should rest a little while, at least, to gather strength for grading that pile of research papers on her dining table.
She’d just close her eyes for a little while.
And think about that text.
Morgan had been insistent on dropping something off, which had made Danielle equal parts excited and terrified. And if she was being honest, completely smitten with the idea of someone caring for her.
Sure, Gerri and Melanie were excellent caregivers. Melanie especially. But they had been her friends for a long time. And they weren’t Morgan.
She let her head lie back against the couch pillow and allowed herself a moment to picture Morgan. To remember that kiss. That meeting in the park the day before.
“Mom! Wake up.”
She jerked her head up and looked around the room. She must have dozed off for a moment.
“What is it?” She turned toward her daughter near the kitchen and discovered that Lila was not alone.
“We have company,” Lila said.
Danielle looked to the side of her daughter at the tall, dark-haired woman, who wore a look of concern.
She suddenly felt equally concerned, although probably for a different reason.
Her hair was a rumpled mess from the couch pillows, and she was in her rattiest T-shirt and sweatpants.
Her sick uniform. She hadn’t expected company after all.
She knew Morgan was stopping by, but she’d expected to hear a knock at the door and have time to at least wrap a robe around herself.
“Lila, I can’t believe you let a complete stranger into this house.” She turned to Morgan. “No offense.”
Morgan put her hands up as her pierced lips curled upward. “None taken.”
“She’s not a complete stranger,” Lila argued. “You told me to look out for her.”
“I did?”
That didn’t sound right. She remembered watching TV, then turning it off and closing her eyes for just a second.
“You were watching that boring documentary about some king or whatever, and you told me to keep an ear out for Morgan.”
Danielle didn’t remember any of that. Darn cold medicine that wasn’t even working, but it was still making her brain fuzzy.
“And how did you know that’s who was at the door?”
“Because I saw her outside Aunt Melanie and Aunt Kim’s window when she dropped you off,” Lila said. “Plus, you told me she was pretty and had really cool piercings.”
Danielle felt her cheeks grow hot as her gaze darted wide-eyed in Morgan’s direction.
“I—”
“I’m just kidding,” Lila said with a laugh.
“You didn’t say anything except to watch the door.
I know what she looks like, so I let her in.
And now I’m going to pull out my science stuff and pretend like I know any of it.
” Then with a wave as she headed toward the hallway, she said, “Nice to meet you, Morgan.”
“You too.” When Lila disappeared into her room, Morgan aimed a thumb down the hall. “She seems like fun.” Then she put up both hands again. “No sarcasm.”
“She is,” Danielle said. “Sorry about that.”
“No, I’m sorry. I should have just texted you and left it on your doorstep.”
“It’s fine,” she said, even though she still didn’t feel fine in her outfit.
Morgan, on the other hand, looked perfectly not sick in her tight, light-wash distressed jeans and loose black T-shirt that hung off one shoulder, revealing an aquamarine bra strap. Danielle had a hard time not thinking about what the rest of that bra looked like.
“I just wanted to drop off some comfort food.” She held up the stapled paper bag in one hand. “Potato soup.”
Tingles ran through Danielle’s insides at the mention of her favorite soup being brought to her by her new favorite person.
Scratch that.
A person.
Morgan wasn’t allowed to be a favorite anything.
“You must be a mind reader, because that is my absolute favorite soup.”
Morgan tilted her head slightly as she lowered the bag. “You told me that. On the way to the dress shop. I think you were telling me how you’d finished making a big batch of it that morning.”
“You… remembered that?”
Those tingles intensified as her brain tried to wrap around how this tiny gesture seemed so monumental.
“Sure,” Morgan said. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because… well, I don’t know. I just didn’t expect you to remember such a small detail. I doubt anyone else would have.”
But was that true? Melanie or Gerri might remember something so small. Then again, they were already in her tight circle of people closest to her.
Where did that put Morgan?
“Well, I guess that makes me not anyone else.” She said this with a casual smile as if she was unaware of the weight of that sentence and the gesture.
“Thank you,” Danielle said, standing from the couch slowly, braving both her wobbliness and the embarrassment over how she must look. “I really appreciate it.”
“You don’t have to get up. I can leave this on the counter and get out of your hair so you can rest.”
“I’m resting plenty,” she said. “But I don’t want to get you sick, either. I probably already passed this on to you yesterday morning.”
Not to mention exposing the entire book club. She was trying really hard not to feel guilty about passing this around to so many people before she even realized she was sick.
Morgan stretched out her arm. “Tell you what. I’ll keep this length distance. That is, if you want the company?”
Without hesitation, Danielle said, “Yes. I’d like that.”
There was a moment when their eyes locked, and Danielle lost herself. Lost the room around them. Lost every reason she had for why this thing between them couldn’t work.
“Mom, I can’t do it.”
Lila stormed back into the living room with a stack of index cards in her hands. Danielle would have to have a talk with her later about abruptly interrupting conversations.
“What’s wrong?”
Lila waved the cards. “I’m never going to remember this stuff. I’m going to fail this test.”
Danielle could feel the weariness in her own eyes. The soreness in her eye sockets mixed with exhaustion. Her meds were finally helping a little with the congestion and allergies, but she wasn’t sure how many of those study cards she could look at.
“I can help.”
Danielle turned from her daughter to Morgan, once again shocked by this woman in her living room who was quickly entering one of her closest friendship circles. Not that she had a lot of friendship circles. There was basically one. Plus wherever Morgan fit.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Morgan said. “If Lila’s okay with that?”
Lila gave an exaggerated sigh. “Yes! Thank you.”
Danielle watched as Lila brought her cards to the nearby dinette table. “Morgan, you don’t have to. Really. I’m fine to help study.”
That was definitely a lie. But she’d make it work. It was her responsibility, not Morgan’s.
“It’s fine, really,” Morgan said. “I was pretty good in school. Forgot to do my homework most of the time, but I still did well on my tests.” She furrowed her brow as she glanced at Lila. “Unless it’s math?”
“Science,” Lila said without a look as she mixed her stack of cards.
“Then we’re good to go,” Morgan said with a smile. “You rest. On the couch. Now.”
Danielle laughed. “Bossy is a new look on you.”
“It’s my look when I’m taking care of someone who doesn’t want to take care of themself.” She pointed at the couch. “Now, lie down. Please. I’ve got this.”
Danielle watched as Morgan walked over to sit across from Lila. The two looked over the vocabulary cards together, discussing what Lila was studying and what she needed to know for the test.
It was surreal. Over the last three years, Morgan had only seen Gerri, Melanie, and Kim interact with Lila. Never another adult besides a teacher or coach, since Lila’s father had never been in the picture, and what little family Danielle had were all gone before she moved here.
Morgan wasn’t a close friend or anyone with a responsibility to care for Lila or even her, for that matter. Yet she was here. In Danielle’s apartment. Helping her daughter.
Danielle didn’t have to take time away from Lila to be with someone. And she wasn’t asking someone else to be sidelined for Lila. It wasn’t something Danielle even thought possible except with her existing friends, yet here they were.
Danielle took that notion with her to the couch, where she lay down, as commanded, to think about what all of that could mean for her life.