Chapter 11
Lily
I sit on the edge of the bed after the door clicks shut, the faint scent of cedar and leather still hanging in the air.
Through the window, the brake lights of the SUV flare red against the dark asphalt before disappearing around the corner.
I heard that cough. It was a deep, rattling sound that didn't belong in a healthy chest. I touch my thumb to my bare lower lip, the skin tingling where his teeth grazed it yesterday, and a sudden wave of restlessness pulls me to my feet.
I walk down the hallway to the living room where my parents are sitting, the television murmuring in the background.
"I think I might be leaving you guys soon," I say, leaning against the doorframe and looking at them. "I just don't feel comfortable being far away from him anymore. And plus... I want to kiss him."
They both let out a warm, simultaneous laugh that cracks the quiet of the house.
Before I can even defensively justify myself, the phone in my palm vibrates violently. The screen blinks with Ava’s contact. I press it to my ear, and her voice comes through the speaker sharp and thin with panic.
"Mom, Dad is shaking," she breathes, the background noise behind her completely frantic. "He won't stop shaking. His skin is burning up."
A cold spike of dread hits my stomach. High fever spikes, followed by severe chills and shivering... it has happened once before, years ago, when the stress of the network contract nearly put him in the hospital. He runs himself into the ground until his body simply breaks down.
"I'm coming," I tell her, already reaching for my car keys on the counter. "Ava, listen to me. Get the thermometer and tell Iris to crack the window. I'm on my way."
The drive back to the house is a blur of lane changes and red lights.
When I burst through the front door, the heavy silence of the house has been completely shattered.
Nora is sitting on the bottom step crying, her small fists rubbing her eyes, while Iris hovers over her with a damp washcloth.
Near the kitchen island, Liam and Ava stand shoulder to shoulder, their faces pale, looking like they are about to puke from the sheer terror of watching their father lose control of his own muscles.
"Mummy!" Nora wails, reaching her small arms out the second she sees me.
"I've got you, baby, it's okay," I say, scooping her up briefly and pressing a kiss to her temple before handing her back to Iris. I look at Ava and Liam, keeping my voice level and firm. "Go to the kitchen. Drink some water. Mom is here now. I'm going to fix it."
I take the stairs two at a time, my heels digging into the carpet, and push open our bedroom door.
Noah is curled on his side beneath three layers of blankets, his entire frame rattling with violent, uncontrollable tremors. His teeth are chattering so loudly the sound echoes against the headboard. His hair is matted with sweat against his forehead, his skin a flush of dark, dangerous red.
I move on instinct, the routine of a decade of motherhood and marriage taking over my hands.
I strip the heavy duvets off him, ignoring his raspy groan of protest as the cool air hits his skin.
I unbutton his black shirt down to the waist to let his chest breathe, then wring out a towel in ice-cold water at the bathroom sink.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, I press the freezing cloth flat against his forehead, holding his shoulder stable with my other hand until the violent shivering begins to slow into a steady, exhausted tremble.
I coax two fever reducers into his mouth, lifting his head until he swallows, before smoothing his damp hair away from his eyes.
An hour passes before his breathing patterns finally level out into the slow, deep rhythm of sleep. The heat radiating off his skin drops to a manageable warmth.
I step out into the hallway and call softly down the stairs. "Kids. Come up."
They scurry up the steps in a quiet line. I lead them into the dark bedroom, pointing toward the bed where Noah lies still beneath a single sheet. "Go meet your dad," I whisper. "He's sleeping now. The fever is down."
Ava leads the younger two to the side of the mattress.
Nora and Liam lean over to touch his arm, their small faces loosening as they see the tremors have completely stopped.
After a long minute of watching him breathe, they turn back toward the doorway.
Nora and Liam crawl right into my lap as I slide into the armchair near the window, their little bodies going heavy against my chest within minutes as sleep catches them.
Ava stays standing near my knee, her fingers tracing the edge of the wooden armrest. I look up at her, and in the low light of the bedside lamp, I see two fat tears track down her cheeks.
"We miss you, Mom," she whispers, her voice breaking.
My throat tightens so fast it aches. I reach out my free arm, pulling her down until her forehead rests against my shoulder. "I know," I say, my own voice a bit thick. "I miss you guys too. I miss this place. And I miss your dad."
She pulls back slightly, her wide eyes searching my face in the shadows. "Will you come back? For real?"
"Yes," I tell her, squeezing her arm tightly. "I will come back, baby. I promise."
***
Once all three of them are tucked into their own beds upstairs, I walk back into our room to check his temperature one last time. He is still out, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful line.
I turn to leave, but my eyes catch on the mahogany desk in the corner. A single lamp casts a yellow circle over a sheet of paper. It is an unfinished letter, his pen resting across the margin as if he had been interrupted mid-thought. I step closer, lifting the page into the light.
The text is a beautiful, chaotic mess. He had written I miss her near the top, only to draw a heavy ink line through the words twice.
Below it, his handwriting tilts sharply: Do I even deserve this?
Maybe I do. Maybe I'm not worth it. The ink trails off, then picks up with a sudden, raw intensity near the bottom: When she comes back, I will tell her about my fears.
Every single one of them. I will kiss her until she forgets the separation.
I will let her know how hot I think she is.
I will let her know how important she is to this house.
I like all her conversations. The noise, the details, everything. I love her.
I let out a short, quiet laugh, a tear catching on my eyelash as I look down at the messy ink. It is a total disaster of a letter. But a soft smile spreads across my face anyway as I fold the paper and tuck it back under the blotter.
***
By eight the next morning, the kitchen smells of grease and warm batter. I stand at the stove, helping Iris organize the children's backpacks while a fresh stack of pancakes sits on the counter.
Liam runs into the room first, his shoes untied, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees me holding the spatula. His eyes go wide. "Is Mummy back?"
I look down at his messy hair, a small smile touching my lips. "Somewhat, buddy. For now." I wipe a smudge of flour from his cheek. "You'll be going over to Aunt Melody's house for two days while your dad rests."
Liam slumps his shoulders, shaking his head. "No. I want to spend the weekend here with you."
"Your Uncle Arthur is around," I tease, leaning down to bump my shoulder against his. "He brought the new racing game."
Ava slides into the chair across the island, reaching out to pluck a warm pancake from the platter and popping a piece into her mouth.
She looks at her brother, a classic smirk tilting her lips.
"I guess I can go then," she teases. "Just for the love of video games, you've completely tossed your mother aside. "
She changes her voice on the last sentence, mimicking my old scolding tone so perfectly that even Iris chuckles by the sink. Nora doesn't join in the banter; she just walks over and wraps her small arms around my thigh, hugging me tightly as if I might disappear if she lets go.
Ava stops chewing, her expression softening into something entirely genuine as she looks around the busy kitchen. "We've missed this, Mummy."
I nod my head twice, my throat feeling too tight to form an actual sentence. I keep my eyes on the frying pan, afraid that if I speak, the tears will start all over again.
***
By ten o'clock, the house has gone quiet again. The children have been packed off to their aunt’s, and Iris is downstairs starting the laundry.
I've already had my bath, my skin smelling of that fresh lavender soap Noah always liked.
I am wearing a simple knit dress, my dark hair falling loose around my shoulders, and I sit on the living room sofa researching some new digital metrics on my tablet.
A sudden, rapid scuffling sound echoes from the top of the stairs.
I freeze, my head snapping up as the heavy thud of bare feet hits the wood. Before I can even stand up to check where the running is coming from, Noah bursts through the doorway.
He stops at the edge of the rug, his white shirt half-unbuttoned, his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon. He stares at me, his amber eyes completely widened, his hands hovering in the air between us as if he's afraid to touch anything.
"Tell me I'm dreaming," he whispers, his voice thick and raspy from the sickness. He takes a half-step forward, his gaze tracking the length of my dress, the haircut, the tablet in my lap. "I mean... I have got to be dreaming right now. Are you actually here, Lily?"
I set the tablet down on the cushion beside me and let a slow, steady smile find its way to my face.
"In the flesh, Noah," I say softly.