Chapter 34 Bedtime Stories
THIRTY-FOUR
Bedtime Stories
Mabel
Thursday had been dead.
Friday was a madhouse.
This wasn’t unusual. I’d already learned that things picked up on Friday due to long-weekenders hitting the area. I’d often had to come in because Abigail called me, seeing as she needed help.
But Abigail was still out with the flu.
And Hutch was still helping at Stony Bluff, driving back and forth to his place to keep an eye on the pups, as well as Tonks, since he was coming into town that night so we could have dinner at Luigi’s then go to the town council meeting.
I hadn’t been to one yet, but I heard from Abigail they were a hoot.
“Think the ones from Northern Exposure, but bigger,” she’d said. “A lot bigger with a lot more characters who have a whole lot to say.”
I couldn’t wait to go, not only because of that, but to hear what Harry would say about what went on at our bluff.
Now, I wasn’t so sure.
Because now, I was freaking.
First, there was a cold snap coming in, and they were forecasting snow for higher elevations, sleet for lower ones.
I was not a fan of snow driving.
Second, it was now nigh on closing, things had calmed down, but when I’d had a breather, I texted Brett to check in to see if he needed anything, and he’d replied, Maybe. Liam seems okay but I’m worried about Abby.
I’d wanted to know why he was worried about Abigail, like…badly, but since he had his hands full, I didn’t want to bother him with my questions.
So I’d just texted, You need anything, just shout. I’m in town but even if I’m not, I’ll come back down.
To that he’d replied, The best, and that worried me even more since he didn’t even have time to tap out “you’re” on his phone.
I was intermingling fretting, tidying up and restocking so my weekend staff, Clarissa and Julie, could hit the ground running when they opened the next day, and I heard Hutch come in at the back.
I watched him walk in, and I knew how cold it was getting because Hutch was used to it, so far as he seemed inured to it, but he was wearing a somewhat beat up (but that made it hot) sheepskin jacket over his flannel and thermal.
Hutch had been the one to tell me about the weather report, so he’d been sure to pull out my printed wool coat before he left that morning as his not-so-subtle hint I bulk up.
It had a pattern that looked like a blanket in tans, rust, brown and shades of green.
Having learned about layering, I’d put on an oversize copper turtleneck over my shell to wear with it.
I got a thrill at seeing him with his hair mussed from wind, stubble added to the mustache since he hadn’t taken the time to shave in a few days, his tall, lean frame heading my way with his manner of movement that was all him and all beautiful.
And I didn’t care what was happening.
When we got home that night, we were having our talk.
If I was wrong, I needed to deal with the pain, then (maybe) find some way to get on with it before I got any deeper.
If I was right, I damn well wanted it official.
“Hey. How’s the eagle doing?” I called.
“Pissed as shit it isn’t dive bombing a fish in a lake,” he replied, making it to me, putting his hand to my hip and bending his head to kiss me.
I loved our pecks.
I loved that he was affectionate and touchy.
Oh yeah, this had to be done so I could grieve (or whatever you call what you’d do if you lost the man you knew was meant for you, maybe even born for you, and you understood you could never hope for another thing again).
Or celebrate.
“What’s up?”
His question took me out of my thoughts, and when I focused on him again, I saw his head slightly tipped to the side and his eyes narrowed on my face.
“Nothing’s up,” I lied.
His fingers still at my hip dug in.
“Something happen?” he asked.
“I checked the menu at Luigi’s,” I replied and did not lie, but I also did. “They don’t have anything you eat.”
“Luigi is Gianni’s dad’s name. Gianni is the owner and the cook.
He’s also the overprotective father who bought one of my dogs to look after his daughter when she demanded finally to move out when she was twenty-two.
She doesn’t need a dog with that caliber of training.
But she has him. When I come in, he chops up soppressata and salami and puts it in one of their family salads for me. ”
“Oh,” I mumbled.
“I dig you give a shit about my diet, babe, but you know I don’t make it anyone else’s thing and can find my way around a menu. So, what’s up?” he pushed.
“Brett texted earlier. He said he’s worried about Abigail.”
His brows drew down. “This flu is laying waste to the town, but I haven’t heard of any really bad cases.”
“I’m sure I’m overreacting. That’s why I didn’t want to say anything. It’s probably just a man who doesn’t like to see his beloved wife sick,” I replied.
And I was sure it was.
Or I hoped I was sure.
The thing was, Brett never struck me as drama in any way.
In fact, I’m worried about Abby, coming from Brett could be an understatement.
“You wanna drop by their place and check on her?” Hutch offered.
I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to disturb them. Two sick people, and since this seems like a tougher strain, keeping Emma away from her mom and brother is a lot on him. I’ll text later.”
“You ready to head to dinner?” he asked.
“Yeah. Let’s close down and go.”
We did that.
Shortly after, I found that Hutch told no lies.
When we got to Luigi’s, not only did Gianni fashion a huge salad with chunks of meat, thick shaves of parmesan, and lots of romaine, olives and tomatoes for Hutch that he tossed in a vinaigrette (Hutch let me taste, it was delicious), he came out of the kitchen to do the handshake, back clap thing dudes do.
Hutch introduced him to me.
Gianni was all smiles and welcomes, but in a hurry, since the small restaurant wasn’t that busy but there were tons of deliveries going out the door for folks who didn’t want to brave the cold and impending sleet.
By the way, I got a delicious calzone covered in even more delicious red sauce and followed it up with homemade spumoni ice cream chockful of pistachios and cherries.
In other words, we were going back to Luigi’s.
I’d also sent an All good? text to Brett.
He did not reply.
This didn’t make me happy.
Sleet was what we walked out to, and I wasn’t feeling that.
“Maybe we should just go up the mountain,” I said to Hutch.
“I let the dogs out before I came down. They’re good.”
“No. It’s that I don’t like driving in this,” I admitted.
“That’s cool, babe,” he said softly. “It gets bad, I’ll drive and bring you back down to get your truck tomorrow when it’s clear.”
That was a deal, so we headed to the town hall, and I did it with Abigail’s description in my head, anticipating I’d walk into some form of Northern Exposure, or possibly better yet, a Parks and Rec situation.
But when we got there, there was hardly anyone there.
“I heard it’s always standing room only,” I told Hutch as I shrugged off my coat.
“This flu must have a bigger grip on the town than I thought,” he muttered.
“Mabel! Hutchison!” we heard in a tone that made me want to immediately stand attention and salute.
Instead, we both looked to the rows of sparsely occupied benches to see Mrs. Matthews, front and center, Ellis sitting next to her.
We headed that way and scooted down the row to get to her.
I tucked my coat in my lap when I sat, and asked, “Where’s Mark and Brooks?”
“Down with this dreaded flu,” Mrs. Matthews stated. “So is Helen, my daughter-in-law. It’s a disaster!” she announced irately, as if the flu came to Misted Pines just to annoy her.
Though, she wasn’t wrong. It was a disaster.
I turned to the elevated curved bench desk in front of us, seeing only an attractive blonde in the seat in the middle, another guy one chair over at her left, and that was it.
“Yes, more than half the council isn’t even here,” Mrs. Matthews pointed out. “Nor is Sheriff Moran.”
I turned to Hutch just as the attractive blonde reached to the microphone in front of her.
She leaned into it to say, “As this meeting was called to brief the town on the Stony Bluff situation, and our sheriff can’t be here since the flu going around has hit his house…”
Oh shit.
I exchanged another glance with Hutch before I pulled out my phone.
“…we’ll have to postpone,” the blonde continued. “We can inform you now that all is in order with the Stony Bluff situation, and once this flu moves on, we’ll reconvene. Now get home. Weather is coming in. And goodnight.”
While she said this last, I was texting Lillian, At the town council meeting. You and Harry okay?
“Well!” Mrs. Matthews huffed as we all got up. “They could have put a notice on the town’s internetty thing and saved us the trouble of driving all the way here.”
I couldn’t reply because my phone shook in my hand.
I looked down to a text from Lillian, or rather, Harry.
It’s Harry. Lillian’s got this bug. She’s fine, but it’s hit her hard. She’ll call when she feels better. Thanks for checking in.
Was it okay for a baby when its momma had the flu?
I obviously didn’t ask Hutch that, and not only because he might not know, but because my phone was now ringing.
I looked at it.
It was Brett.
I took the call immediately. “Hey, Brett.”
“I need to take you up on your offer,” he said in a harried way that freaked me.
“Mom’s at home with the kids. Dad’s down with this flu.
Abigail’s folks both have it. I’m sorry to ask, Mabel, I know you probably want to get back up the mountain.
But you’re the only one I know who doesn’t have it or isn’t looking after someone who does. I’m at the hospital with Abigail.”
My stomach dropped at this news.
“But Mom needs to go home and check on Dad. So, if you’re still in town, can you swing by for a half hour, at most an hour so she can go look in on him?” he concluded.
I looked up at Hutch and mouthed, Brett needs us.
Hutch nodded.
Because of course he did.
“Absolutely, Brett,” I said into the phone. “Hutch and I are at the Town Hall. We should be there in a few.”
The relief was palpable in his, “Thank you. Gotta go.”
“Bye,” I said, but he was already gone, and that didn’t give me good feels either. “Brett took Abigail to the hospital. He needs us to look after the kids,” I said to Hutch.
“Let’s go,” he replied.
I turned to Mrs. Matthews, “I’m sorry, we—”
She was making a shooing motion with her hand and obviously heard me on the phone. “Go, girl, go.”
“Thanks, bye,” I replied as Hutch and I moved quickly down the aisle to the doors and through them.
Once we hustled through the sleet, got in his truck, and I told him Brett and Abigail’s address, I said, “His mom is there but his dad has this stuff too, so she has to go look in on him. Brett said half an hour to an hour.”
“I’m with you, May. Got nowhere else to be,” Hutch replied.
God, I was so, so, so, so, soooooo falling in love with this man.
We got to their house, hurried to the door, and the woman I’d met at a barbecue Brett and Abigail threw in the summer opened the door with a pajama-clad Emma on her hip.
“Missa Hutch!” she cried, throwing her weight toward him.
He caught her.
“Well, that shares you’re Hutch,” Chrissy, Brett’s mom said. And to me, “Hi, Mabel.”
“Heya,” I replied.
She let us in and did it talking quickly. “I won’t be long. Thank God Liam’s fever broke about an hour ago. He’s sleeping. Emma needs to go down. It’s past her bedtime.”
“Will you read me a bedtime story, Missa Hutch?” Emma asked.
“You bet,” he replied, turned to Chrissy and raised his brows.
“Up the stairs, first room to the left,” she instructed.
They took off.
She hastened to her coat.
“Do you know how Abigail is doing?” I asked, trying not to sound fretful, and probably failing.
“She was restless.” Chrissy didn’t bother not sounding fretful. “Talking in her sleep. When she’d be awake, she wasn’t actually awake but delirious and babbling. And her cough was hacking.”
Oh God.
That really didn’t sound good.
No wonder Brett was so worried.
Chrissy was at the door. “Brett took her in hours ago. They have a bed in the ER, but she hasn’t been seen because so many people with this flu are there.”
She was anxious to get away, so I told her, “Take your time. We have this. But can I get your number just in case?”
She dashed it off to me as I entered it into my phone.
“Yours?” she requested.
“Go,” I urged. “I’ll text you just now so you have it.”
“Thank you, Mabel,” she said with a worried smile.
She left.
I texted her so she had my number.
Then I went up the stairs and to the room to the right.
Being careful because I didn’t want to wake him, I opened the door.
There was a light on dim by Liam’s bed, so I could see he lay on his back, sleeping like the dead.
I carefully walked in and touched his forehead.
Clammy, but cool.
I left him be but also left the door open a titch so I could hear him if he called out for anything.
The door to Emma’s room was wide open, and I could hear Hutch’s low, mellow, beautiful voice telling her a story. He was speaking, but even so, the effect of his tone was like his singing.
Hiding my body to the side, I peeked around the doorframe to see Emma tucked tight in her bed, turned with her back to me, but her front to Hutch sitting on the floor, reading.
At this tableau, my chest caved in, I pivoted until my back was to the wall, slid down it to my ass on the floor, curled my knees up to my chest and hugged them.
My life. My luck. I’d meet this amazing man, and get the hint he was mine, only to find out he wasn’t.
And now, in that moment, I knew, after all I’d gone through, that would be the thing to end me.
Game over.
But Hutch Hutchison was Hutch Hutchison.
I knew it from the first song I heard him sing.
He was the biggest risk I ever took.
But he was the only risk that was worth anything.