Doorstep daddy (15 page)

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Authors: Linda Cajio

BOOK: Doorstep daddy
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''Uncle Richard!
Uncle Richard!"

Richard fought up from some deep depths and managed to pry his eyes open. He felt as if he'd slept on rocks all night long.

Amanda peered down at him, her face wavering around the edges. "You forgot to wake us up for school."

"Oh." Richard became aware of what felt like a blast
I
furnace in the bed with him. "It's hot."

"You look worse than yesterday," his niece said. "Is it still jet lag?"

"Just tired really." A jumble of things swam through his mind. He couldn't quite focus on them, yet they had to do with Callie and demanded urgent attention. Relations were unsettled between them when she had left last night - about as unsettled as his stomach suddenly felt. "I'll take you to school."

He began to push the covers back, sitting up at the same time. Or tried to. His body refused to cooperate, and he could barely raise his head from the pillow. The blast furnace went up a thousand degrees when he did.

"I think I really am sick this time," he muttered, awed by his ability to predict the future.

"You're all white and sweaty," Amanda said. "Like the paste we used in elementary school."

"Get the thermometer from the bathroom," he said with effort. His stomach roiled violently, taking him by surprise. He shot off the bed as if out of a cannon, then staggered past Amanda and into the bathroom. He couldn't wait for the thermometer - only it wasn't the thermometer he needed.

Long minutes later, as he laid his head on the cool porcelain base of the toilet, his stomach temporarily relieved, he decided he was most definitely sick.

"Uncle Richard." Amanda stood in the doorway, looking as shaken as he felt. "What should I do? Should I go to school? I can't get there if you don't take me because the bus left already. Should I stay home? Should I call a doctor or the police or something?''

"Oh, God, no." He pressed his face into the tile floor as his stomach did backflips again. His gut compelled him to repeat his performance of a few minutes ago. He obliged.

By the time he was finished, Amanda was no longer at the bathroom door. He couldn't blame her.

"Amanda?" he called out weakly. When she didn't return, he murmured, "Guess she went to school."

The faces of Jason and Mark flitted briefly across his brain. Heaven only knew what they were doing, and they could tear the house up for all he cared at this point. Eventually he'd be well enough to fix it. He hoped. A third encounter with the inside of the porcelain bowl made him wonder if he'd ever be able to rise above his knees again in this lifetime.

"Wow. You can really puke, Uncle Richard."

From his prone position, Richard opened one eye. Jason stood next to Amanda. Amanda had her hand
clapped over her mouth. She looked as if she might join him at any second. Richard hugged the bowl possessively. The kid could find her own toilet. He needed his.

"I'm okay," he finally said. His voice sounded terrible, and it hurt like hell to talk. "I promise, Jay."

"We better stay home," Amanda said. "But you'll have to call the school. We'll get in trouble if we call ourselves."

"Get the phone." Richard struggled against a fourth attack. He won...barely.

A few moments later Jason put the portable phone next to him on the floor. Richard picked it up and tried to discern the numbers on the buttons. His gaze swam. His stomach protested forcefully. He thrust the phone into the boy's hands.

"Jay, you dial."

"I don't know the number."

"Phone book."

Richard lay down on the floor, all his threadbare energy consumed with fighting off a new wave of nausea. He hung on. Eventually he heard Jay punching in phone numbers.

"Here," the boy said, holding out the receiver.

Richard took it and, when the school-office secretary answered, told the woman that Jay wouldn't be in school that day. He had to take another tour at being sick before he was capable of repeating the message to Amanda's school.

When the stomach spasms eased, he moaned at the pounding in his head, the aching in his bones and the jumping in his stomach.

"I think we should call Callie," Jay said.

"I think so, too," Amanda agreed.

"No." Richard croaked the word out. "Imposed too much already. Where's Mark?"

"Still sleeping," Amanda said. "I checked."

"Thank you, honey." Richard closed his eyes, desperate for sleep.

He woke up much later at the sound of new voices. Something covered him although he still lay on the bathroom floor. The kids must have put a blanket over him. They had iced the tiles, though, at some point. The floor was so cold against his skin that his body shook with chills.

The voices drew closer and he realized people were in the bedroom. They were talking about him.

"Richard said he was sick yesterday, then said he wasn't."

Callie's voice. Richard smiled.

"You say he's been vomiting?"

Richard opened one eye at the male voice he'd never heard before.

"All over the place!" Jason replied enthusiastically.

"Have not," Richard muttered in his own defense.

"I'm glad you kids called me... Omigod! Richard!"

Richard smiled at the panic in his angel of mercy's voice. Nothing had ever sounded sweeter than Callie's concern for him. He wanted to kiss her.

Instead, he was violently sick again. Someday he would have a sophisticated lover image, but not today.

Cool feminine hands held his forehead while someone made sympathetic noises.

' 'Callie, you never could handle anyone being sick in the bathroom. Knock it off before I have two patients."

"Replace me already?" Richard finally whispered as the attack subsided. "He's a peach."

"Not hardly." She kissed the top of his head. "Now
shut up and let my brother Tommy examine you. He's a second-year resident at Thomas Jefferson Hospital."

"The room snooper?"

"No, that's Steve. He's in real estate."

"Oh." Richard concentrated on this brother of Callie' s, his relief at the relationship only slightly penetrating his illness. It took a full minute for the realization to sink in that Tommy had the same angelic features as Callie, yet with masculine overtones. The Rossovich siblings he'd met so far were certainly a good-looking bunch.

"Help him onto the floor, Callie," Tommy said, grinning widely. "I'll do an exam here."

"Knew you'd be back," Richard said to her as she eased him to a prone position.

"I'm a bad penny that keeps turning up."

"Love you," he murmured in a wonderful daze. His stomach threatened again, but he was too weak to do more than ignore it.

"You are hallucinating."

Sure hands poked and prodded him, but gently. Finally the hands stopped. Something pressed against his ear for a long moment, then was removed. Richard shivered.

"Temp's up. That's why you've got the chills."

The stethoscope that pressed against his chest was more recognizable than the ear thermometer.

Tommy said, "Nothing more than the flu, kids."

Richard grimaced. He was dying a slow death here, hardly a ' 'nothing more than'' situation. A medical guy, his backside. "Go back to school, pal."

"No way!" Jason yelped.

"I think he meant me, not you," Tommy told Jay. To Richard he said, "But you go back to bed, pal. The
floor's no place for you, and I don't have to be a doctor to know that."

Tommy helped him to his feet. Richard groaned and tottered to the bed with both Tommy and Callie's help. Never had he been so grateful to have adults around. He hadn't known how he would be able to handle the kids.

He collapsed onto the bed, happy to be in a warm place under warmer covers. He closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to shut out the world.

"Could he have gotten sick from all the flying?" he heard Callie ask.

"No, but it probably exacerbated the condition. If you've got any kind of virus in your system, flying will bring it out in all its nasty forms."

"I think I might get sick again," Richard said, opening his eyes as his stomach began to threaten.

"I'll get a sickie bucket," Callie said, hurrying from the room. She hustled the two kids with her.

"Lucky for you, I've got a cure for the sickies," Tommy said.

Richard stared at Tommy in horror as the man held up what looked like a large white bullet-shaped pill. He couldn't swallow that, let alone keep it down long enough for it to work.

Tommy took a medical glove from his bag. It looked like Richard wasn't going to have to
swallow
medicine, but rather -

"No-o-o!" Richard moaned, his nausea forgotten with this new threat.

"It can't go in the normal way," Tommy said. "It'll come right back up again. It's either you or me to do it."

Richard was about to protest again when Callie returned with the bucket. At the sight of it, Richard's nau
sea hit like a force-ten hurricane. Callie barely made it to the bed in time.

When the spasm finally stopped, Richard held out his hand in defeat. After showing Callie and the rest of the potential audience from the room, Dr. Tommy gave him the equipment for the mission of mercy. Richard didn't know if the medicine worked instantly or whether it was the idea that relief was at hand - or rather, in body - but after about ten minutes he felt better.

He looked at Tommy. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor."

He refused to be embarrassed by the nature of the medicine Tommy had given him. As long as it worked, he was only grateful. If it didn't the man would be lucky if he was breathing, Callie's brother or not.

Tommy grinned. "Not the ordinary way to make an acquaintance, but likewise, I'm sure. Any friend of Cal-lie's is a friend of mine. Although I've got a feeling it's more than friendship here."

"If I had my way, but Callie's way is in control at the moment." Richard paused. "I really only have the flu? I thought I was dying. I still feel like I could at any moment."

"You have the classic symptoms of influenza, strain A." Tommy smiled. "I'm an emergency-room resident at Jeff, and we've been seeing this for several weeks now. It's a violent strain, but short-lived. Expect the kids to get it, unless they've had their flu shots. Heck, expect them to get it, anyway, only not as badly as you seem to have. This thing is tough."

"They've had their shots. I skipped mine. Can you tell? I can."

Tommy laughed. "Oh, I can tell. Big time. Callie's going to stay here until you're better."

Richard shook his head, then stopped when it aggravated his vertigo. "No. We've imposed enough on her."

Tommy laughed again. "No one imposes on my sister unless she wants them to. Callie's the world's best mother hen."

"She's got a job and school. They come first."

"Who told you that? Callie, probably." Tommy made a face. He had Callie's same acerbic expression. "Callie's only been trying to make up for what she perceives is lost time. Don't believe it. She thrives on taking care of others. I keep telling her she should be a nurse or a doctor, but she's got to get past the dry heaves first."

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