20
Annie
Pepper and I set up her air mattress next to my bed, using an old patchwork quilt and faded floral sheets that were on my twin bed when I was about her age. I also unbox some of my favorite stuffed animals to keep company with Pepper’s favorite stuffie, Bruce the Attack Bunny.
She asks me to read Little Women to her. She’s been reading it on her own, and she’s near the end when Jo publishes her book.
“That’s what I want to do, someday,” she says dreamily. “Write books.”
“I bet you will. You are always writing.” I don’t bother to tell her that I used to have the same dream. I see no point in discouraging her. I really think Pepper will be a great writer someday. She certainly spends enough time writing in her notebook.
I think that might be my problem. I like flowers more than writing. Whenever I’m stressed, I go to my garden. Brandon often tells me he thinks I could do something more with my passion for flowers. And I’m beginning to think he might be right.
All my life I’ve said I’d never marry a widower. I hated the idea of being second in anyone’s heart. But I don’t know . . . watching how Brandon loves and cares for Pepper, I am not too worried about being second in his heart, or even third; I just want the chance to be with him.
I lie in bed, the pain in my ankle now subdued to a low ache, and think of Brandon—his steadfast devotion and his little quirks and habits.
He has this face he makes when he thinks my plan is totally ridiculous, but he’s going to go along with it anyway.
. . . I’d take Brandon climbing up Lady Whimple over all of Jack’s fine words any day.
Once again, I can’t believe how blind I have been.
My only defense is that I was unsure of Brandon’s feelings.
To tell the truth, I’m still not sure. That kiss may have simply been a lapse in judgment that he now regrets.
Maybe he’s going to recover and tell me that he’s still not ready to date.
Eventually, despite the chaos in my head, I drift off to sleep.
When I wake, I find Pepper has climbed into my bed.
She looks so young, hugging her bunny, with her hair splayed out on her pillow.
I want to be her stepmom so badly—not just because she’s Brandon’s daughter, but because I love her.
I just want the right to take care of Pepper.
I’m keenly aware of all the ways I’ve let her down.
I vow to do better. I kiss my hand, then gently pat it on her hair.
I climb out of bed and tiptoe down the hall, which is literally impossible to do with my clunky cast. I meant to check on Brandon without waking him, but the clunk, clunk of my approach disturbs his sleep.
“Annie?” he says in a sleepy voice.
“How are you?”
“Not good.” He’s adorably disheveled, but I hate to see him this sick.
“You should go to the doctor.”
“No,” he says stubbornly. “I just need to sleep.”
“Okay, just take your medicine, and I’ll leave you alone.
He sits up partway, his shirt damp from sweat.
He struggles to swallow and then looks at me with his fevered eyes. “Stay . . . please!” I can’t possibly refuse him.
“Of course—I’ll be back in a minute with a glass of water.”
***
And that’s how I end up spending most of the day in the guest room reading to a sick Brandon.
When I ask him what I should read, he answers, “I don’t care, as long as I can hear the sound of your voice.” It’s such a sweet thing to say, but has me worried. Healthy Brandon would pretend he was fine. He wouldn’t ask for a thing. He must be really unwell.
“Read him Anne of Green Gables,” suggests Pepper, who followed me back to her dad’s room. “I’ve been trying to get him to read it.”
“Are you okay with Anne of Green Gables?” I ask.
“Sounds good,” he says sleepily. There’s a sheen on his forehead. I place the back of my palm on it and confirm that he’s still burning up.
“I’m worried about you getting enough to drink.” I give him his morning Tylenol and hold the glass of water to his mouth, one of my hands brushing against his cheek. He slowly sips, his eyes steady on me.
I begin reading while sitting in the desk chair, but after the first chapter, my ankle is hurting.
“You still with me?” I ask Brandon.
“Yes, it’s good. She reminds me a little of you. And it’s not just the red hair.”
“Wow! Thank you—that’s the ultimate compliment! Would you be okay with me sitting on your bed? I’ll give you plenty of space.”
“I’d love that! Just—please, don’t go.”
“I won’t.” I clump across the room and open the window, and the white lace curtains billow in the wind.
The breeze freshens the room as I make my way to the far side of the bed and prop myself up with pillows.
Before I finish the next chapter, Pepper squeezes her way in between us, happy as can be.
I hope whatever Brandon has is not contagious—Pepper is right up against him, but I don’t have the heart to make her leave. She looks so happy.
Brandon drifts in and out of sleep. After several chapters, I stop reading to readjust my ankle, and he starts awake. “Annie? Are you there?”
“I’m here.”
“Good,” he says and closes his eyes with a sleepy smile as I return to the book.
I’m not sure about Brandon, but Pepper and I have the best day. My mom and Elinor bring us meals and snacks. At some point, all three of us fall asleep, leaning on each other like kittens. I wake up around sunset with Pepper’s head in my lap. I stroke her hair and watch Brandon sleep.
I hate seeing him sick like this, especially because it’s all owing to my foolish self-pity hike.
I took my wallowing too far, and Brandon’s paying for it.
I scooch over a couple inches, just close enough to stroke his soft, dark hair.
Somehow, a snoozing Pepper’s head remains undisturbed in my lap.
This is what I want. Brandon and Pepper.
I have no doubts or concerns or questions.
I place my hand on his forehead and pull back in surprise. His fever is back, and it’s hotter. I pull out my cell phone and call his mom.
***
Not surprisingly, Brandon doesn’t like my plan.
“Can’t I just stay here?”
I can honestly say this is the first time I’ve heard Brandon whine. It’s so out of character, I’m tempted to cave in. But Wendy James and I agree he needs to see a doctor.
“I told you. You have two options. Either I drive both of you home so Pepper can make the first day of school, or I take you to the emergency room in Monterey tonight.”
“But I want to stay here in this bed. It’s just a bad man cold.”
“With a fever of 103°? I don’t think so.”
“If Annie drives us home, she could help me pick out my first day of school outfit!” say Pepper with glee.
“Don’t you wear a uniform?” I ask.
“I have to accessorize,” she answers.
“I’m certain you don’t need my help—you have such great style! But I’d love to see what you pick out.”
“Cool, I vote we go home tonight.”
“I do too,” I say.
“I vote we never leave this bed,” says an obstinate and groggy Brandon.
“That’s not an option.”
“I don’t think you should drive with your ankle.”
“I checked with my doctor, and she said I would be fine. All you need to do is rest while I pack up.”
“My head is splitting,” Brandon says.
“That’s why we are taking you to a doctor. Your mom has already made an appointment for tomorrow morning.”
“Are you two ganging up on me?”
“Yes! And when you’re all better, you’ll thank me.”
***
I’m so grateful that Brandon’s parents are waiting for me at Brandon’s home when I reach there a little after midnight.
Wendy James gives me a big hug before whisking Pepper off to bed.
Brandon’s dad tries to coax a sick, grumpy Brandon out of the passenger seat.
I’m grateful they don’t hold it against me that I’m the reason their son is sick.
In fact, they seem genuinely pleased to see me.
“Leave me alone. I’ll sleep here.” He sounds like a petulant teenager.
“Brandon,” I say a little sternly. “You’ve got to go to bed and get some sleep.”
“Annie? You’re still here?” My heart squeezes at the unfiltered joy in his voice.
“Yes, and I’m staying the night. Stop being difficult and go to bed.”
“You’re staying?” he sounds so hopeful.
“Only if you cooperate.”
He nods slowly and gets out of his Bronco with some effort.
It’s clear he really doesn’t feel well. I question waiting till tomorrow to go to the doctor, but his mom has already made an appointment with their family doctor.
I’m just so worried. I know he should be okay.
It’s just that after losing my dad, I’m a lot more aware that sometimes the worst happens.
And if the worst were to happen to Brandon . . . I can’t bear to think of it.
I wish again that I hadn’t wasted the summer dating Jack.
I’m so worried, I sleep fitfully. At three a.m. my alarm goes off.
I set it to check on him. I pad down the hall to the room next door.
Brandon’s sleeping soundly. I glance around the dark room to see if anyone’s watching.
Confident that we are alone, I bend down and place a light kiss on his brow.
I clunk back to my room, feeling lighter, and sleep soundly the rest of the night.