Chapter Eighteen
"Morning, Mom."
Alara heard Zia's voice but struggled to come to the surface.
"Mom? Are you okay?"
Alara dragged herself up through the darkness and opened her eyes. "Morning, Z. I'm okay. How about you?"
Zia was lying beside her on the bed, elbows planted on the pillow, chin on her hands. "Do you need to go back to sleep?"
"No, I'm fine. I'll get up now. Sorry, sweet pea."
"It's okay. I can go downstairs by myself. I want breakfast. I can bring you some breakfast, too."
Alara struggled to sit up. Her head felt as though someone was hammering inside it, and her whole body ached. She leaned back against the headboard, hoping the feeling would pass, but it didn't.
"I'll come down with you now."
Zia sat back. "Okay. Only when you want to. I can wait."
Alara ran a hand over her hair. She shouldn't have to wait—not to eat. In the lean times, Alara hadn't let a lack of funds stand in the way of her daughter being fed. She couldn't let her pride do it now.
"You go on down. I'll catch up."
"No, I want to wait for you." Zia's chin came up. "You're sick again, aren't you?"
"No, Z. I promise I'm not."
"You look like you are. You look like you used to."
"To tell you the truth, I kind of feel that way, too. But Dr. Ambrose said this might happen."
"He can't be a very good doctor, then."
"Oh, he is. And that's why he warned me." She smiled to herself, grateful that he had. "He said it might take a day or two after this first infusion. I think my body just needs to get used to having iron in it again. I don't really know how it works. But it'll only last a day or two."
Zia didn't look convinced. "I hope so."
Alara swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "I'll just get dressed, and then we'll go down, okay? But you don't have to wait."
"I want to. What should I bring you? Do you want me to get your clothes?"
"I can do it myself."
Alara moved slowly, gathering clothes before heading into the bathroom. Once she was in there, she sat on the edge of the tub to brush her teeth. And again while she washed her face.
When she was done, she looked in the mirror as she brushed her hair. The woman who stared back at her was no longer terrified. But she still looked exhausted—and gray.
"Are you okay, Mom?" Zia called after a while.
She eventually opened the door. "I'm coming."
"Prince Daddy's here. I can see his Cruiser from the window. Want to come see him?"
Alara gripped the doorframe and rested against it to keep herself upright.
Of course she wanted to see him; he'd come up if she asked.
What she didn't want was for him to see her like this.
She just needed a minute. Ten minutes. Then she'd be fine.
"You know what, Z? Why don't you go down and see him and get some breakfast? I'll catch up."
"Okay. But I'll come back if you don't come down."
"I'll be there. See you in a minute."
As soon as Zia had gone, Alara went to sit back down on the bed.
This wasn't good. She wasn't going to be able to make it down the stairs. Maybe if she just rested here for a few minutes, she'd gather the strength, and this heavy, wrung-out feeling would pass.
~ ~ ~
"Hey, little buddy." Reaves caught Zia and scooped her up when she came running to him.
She settled in, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, and it occurred to him just how natural it had come to feel, her sitting on his hip like this. She pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"Did you have breakfast yet?" she asked.
"Not yet. Did you and your mom?"
"No. Mom says she's coming down in a minute. But I don't know if she can."
"What do you mean, Z? Why not?"
"She's tired. Very tired. And she looks sick again, Prince Daddy. She says the doctor's making her better, but I think he's making her worse."
Reaves turned, wanting nothing more than to run upstairs and check on her. "Is she still in bed?"
"No, she went in the bathroom and got dressed, and she says she'll be down soon."
Reaves was torn. But thinking about it from Alara's point of view, he figured that if she wasn't feeling great she'd probably want a little extra time to get herself together. And the one thing he knew for certain was that she'd want to make sure Zia was fed.
He forced a smile. "Let's go see what Faye has for us this morning, then, huh?"
"Yes, I'm hungry. But if Mom doesn't come down soon, I'll take some muffins up to her. And orange juice. She said maybe her body isn't used to all the new iron in it, and orange juice is supposed to help with that, isn't it?"
Reaves held her a little tighter. This kid! She was something else. "You're right, it is. That's a really good idea. Let's get you fed, and if Mom hasn't come down by the time you're done, we'll go and check on her. How about that?"
"Okay. We'll take her something to eat too."
"We sure will."
Faye fussed around Zia in the kitchen, making sure she had fruit with her eggs and bacon, and shooting Reaves worried looks while Zia explained why Alara wasn't down yet.
All he could do was shrug at her. It wasn't as though he could go marching upstairs and into Alara's bedroom. At least, he didn't think so. But the more minutes that ticked by, the less important that seemed.
He turned to Zia when he realized she was talking to him while he was lost in his thoughts.
"…do you think he's lonely?"
He stared at her, feeling guilty that he hadn't been paying attention.
"I think he'll be just fine," said Faye. "Dogs are clever creatures, you know. They can take care of themselves. They don't need us humans as much as we like to think they do."
Zia scowled at her. "He doesn't need us. But I think he's lonely. He's very sad, you know." She turned to Reaves. "Do you think he'll be okay?"
"I do, Z. You said he's been at the shelter for a while now. That means he's used to it there. He's been okay there for a while."
She nodded grudgingly. "I suppose so. But I hope he can get out of there soon."
Faye raised her eyebrows at Reaves, and he shrugged again. He wasn't about to tell either of them that the first thing he'd done when he got home to his apartment last night was check out the shelter's website and look up the requirements for adopting a dog.
He set his fork down. He'd been starving when he arrived, but filling his stomach seemed less important while Alara was alone upstairs and, according to Zia, wasn't doing great.
He could eat more later. And that thought made him shake his head. Until now, he hadn't ever appreciated just how lucky he was.
Zia's fingers were sticky with the jam she'd been smearing on her toast, and she waggled them in the air. "I'll clean up, and then we can make orange juice for Mom."
Faye pushed the step stool in front of the sink. "Come on over here, missy. We'll get you cleaned up. We want those fingers good and clean."
Zia shot a look back at Reaves over her shoulder, and he had to hide a smile.
He knew how she felt. Faye had called him to that sink to wash his hands so many times when he was a kid—and as a boy who'd spent most of his time running around the vineyards, his hands had usually been covered in worse than jam.
By the time there was a pitcher of fresh orange juice on the counter, Reaves was pacing in front of the windows, debating whether he should text Alara or just go up there.
Faye came and rested her hand on his shoulder. "Now the orange juice is made, I think Zia should take a tray up for her mom. It’s getting late, and we want her to eat something, right?"
He and Zia both nodded as Faye started to load up a tray.
"She won't eat all of that," said Zia.
"No, I don't expect she will," Faye replied. "But she'll be able to choose what she wants or have a bite of all of it." She handed Zia a bowl full of blueberries and strawberries. "Can you carry that without spilling them?"
Zia straightened up. "Of course I can. I can put them on the tray when I take it."
"Oh no, young lady. I know you're capable of a lot of things, but that tray needs to be carried by a grown-up."
Zia's lips pressed into a thin little line, until Faye added, "And since there isn't one of those around to do it, we'll have to ask your Prince Daddy, won't we?"
Zia chuckled and came to take Reaves's hand. "You are a grown-up, aren't you?"
"I am," he said, shooting Faye a mock-hurt look.
She burst out laughing when Zia added, "You're only a prince for now. But you'll be a king one day soon. I know it."
"Thanks, Z." He picked up the tray, shooting Faye a grateful smile, and realizing just how many times in his life she'd engineered things so he could do what he wanted, before he'd been able to figure it out for himself.
When they reached Alara's bedroom, Zia went in ahead of him, and he hovered outside the door.
"We brought you some breakfast, Mom. Prince Daddy carried the tray."
"Thanks, Z."
He loved the sound of her voice no matter what, but this morning Alara sounded sleepy. Tired.
"Where are you?" Zia called.
He pushed the door open wider with his foot. "I'm here. Is it all right if I come in?"
"Yeah, come in," Alara called.
Zia met him at the door and took the bowl of berries from the tray. "Mrs. Faye says there's lots of goodness in these." She set them on the nightstand.
Alara was sitting propped against her pillows. She was dressed, but she looked pale and tired. She smiled when she saw him.
"Sorry about this. Dr. Ambrose warned me that I might not feel great this weekend, but I didn't expect this."
"You don't need to apologize. All you need to do is rest." He lifted the tray a little. "Do you want it right there on the bed?"
"Please. I am hungry, but I…" She met his gaze. "I didn't want to risk trying to make it down the stairs."
"You did the right thing. Maybe you should take it easy today—stay in bed. I can bring you what you need."
"I can too," said Zia. She was checking the contents of the tray. "And you need butter. I'll go and get you some butter."
She was gone before Alara could say anything.