6. Conrad #3
Even though the smell didn’t sit well with me, I drank it anyway. Honestly, I would’ve consumed swamp water if she handed it to me with enough confidence. I wanted to feel better.
“Willow bark contains salicin,” Bianca said. “It’s chemically related to aspirin.”
Winnie grinned, and I found myself staring at her lips. “Very good,” she said.
Billie blinked slowly beneath her blanket nest. “I thought aspirin came from factories.”
“It does now,” Bianca said.
Winnie settled into the armchair beside the bed and picked up her own mug of tea. “Many medicines began as plant remedies first. Humans simply learned how to isolate the most useful compounds over time.”
Despite looking half-dead, Bianca’s curious nature had her leaning forward. “What other medicines?”
“Foxglove became digitalis, which is found in heart medicine. Mold eventually led to penicillin. Clove oil is still used for toothache.”
CJ frowned weakly. “People just… chewed random plants until science happened?”
“More or less.”
“Seems reckless.”
“It was often fatal,” Winnie explained.
Billie’s eyes widened. “Old-time people were so adventurous. I’d like to go back in time. Perhaps I’ll build a time machine.”
Thunder cracked loudly overhead, making the lights flicker again.
Bianca ignored both completely, turning back to face Winnie. “How do you know all this again?”
Winnie hesitated. “Like I said before, I was very studious,” she said finally.
“You must have earned multiple degrees,” Bianca said.
Winnie sipped her tea. “In a manner of speaking. It really comes down to doing your homework.”
I laughed before I could stop myself. The sound surprised me. Apparently, it surprised Winnie too.
Warmth moved through my chest at the shine in her eyes.
The rest of the afternoon was a blur of fever and vomit and rain, all on an endless cycle.
At some point, Winnie made chicken soup from scratch, including organic bone broth, despite the fact that the kitchen probably should’ve been classified as a biohazard zone.
“How did you even do this?” I asked after the first taste.
“Cooking isn’t especially difficult. I enjoy cooking for those in my care.”
I ate another spoonful. “It’s delicious. Perhaps my new favorite emotional support food.”
CJ raised his head slightly. “I would also like emotional soup.”
By evening, the children succumbed to the fatigue. Billie fell asleep first, sprawled sideways on the bed, one hand clutching Winnie’s sleeve. Bianca lasted another hour, drifting off as she told us about bacterial transmission. CJ held out the longest, being his best dramatic self.
“If I survive this,” he mumbled at the ceiling, “I’m writing a memoir.”
“You’re eleven,” I reminded him.
“Tragic youth manuscripts are very popular right now.”
Winnie tucked the blanket higher around his shoulders. “Rest, little storyteller.”
That finally did it. Within minutes, the room turned quiet. I looked at the clock on my nightstand. 12:17 a.m.
God, no wonder I was so tired. I pushed myself upright, every muscle aching in protest. “Winnie.”
She looked up from the armchair where she’d been reading the plague book. “Mm?”
“Your shift ended forever ago.”
One corner of her mouth lifted slightly. “I noticed.”
“You should go home.”
“And leave you unsupervised in this condition?”
“I’m fine. We’ll be fine.”
She scowled. “You were drinking children’s fever reducer directly from the bottle six hours ago.”
“In my defense, I was suffering.”
“And you still are.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “You don’t have to stay.”
Winnie closed the book and set it aside. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had the opportunity for a proper slumber party.”
Despite everything, I laughed. “You have strange standards for fun.”
The lamp beside the bed cast warm gold across her face, making her that much more beautiful. With the rain tapping gently against the windows behind her, and without the children talking constantly around us, the room suddenly felt much smaller. More intimate.
I became acutely aware that I was sitting in bed wearing a ratty T-shirt while a stunning woman occupied my armchair after she’d spent almost sixteen straight hours taking care of my children.
And me.
Especially me.
Nobody had taken care of me in a long time. I wasn’t prepared for how much that hurt or how badly I wanted it to continue.
Winnie rose and crossed to the bed. “Do you still have a fever?”
Before I could answer, she pressed the back of her hand against my forehead. Everything inside me stuttered, the world narrowing to the touch of her cool hand against my warm skin and the smell of something herbal clinging to her sleeve.
My heart skipped awkwardly against my ribs.
And immediately afterward came the guilt. Sharp enough to almost make me flinch.
For one horrible second, sitting there in the dark while my children slept around us, I remembered how good it felt not to carry everything alone.
To have someone on the same team as me, taking on a little of the weight of running a household and caring for three children. Someone to help me face the unexpected.
But the problem was—I’d had that already. And this time, it wasn’t Jade’s hand against my forehead.