Dorothy Garlock (22 page)

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Authors: More Than Memory

BOOK: Dorothy Garlock
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“Hel . . . lo,” she croaked.
“Nelda? Is that you? This is Rhetta.”
“It’s me. I’ve got a cold.”
“I’m calling to ask you to come to dinner, if you haven’t made plans.”
“Thanks, but I’m afraid I’d not be fit company.” Nelda’s throat was so sore she could hardly get out the words.
“Do you have a temperature?”
“Probably.”
“Take aspirin and drink juice. It may be just a one-day thing.”
“I’d not be so lucky. Thanks, Rhetta—”
After she hung up the phone she made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and carried it to the couch. She crawled wearily under the covers and nibbled on the sandwich.
When the harsh ringing of the telephone broke the stillness, she sat upright, holding her hands to her head as if to keep it from bursting. Maybe it was Rhetta again. She wasn’t aware she was counting the rings, but on the fourth one she got off the couch, went to the kitchen to pick up the phone.
“Hello,” she whispered.
“Nelda, are you all right?” It was Lute’s voice, and there was exasperation in his tone.
“Yes. I’m . . . all right.”
“What took you so long to answer the phone?”
“It only rang four times.”
“Are you alone.”
“No.”
“Who’s there?”
“None . . . of your . . . business.”
“Rhetta said that you’re sick. Why in the hell didn’t you call someone?”
“You? And have you come over, freeze your butt—”
“I’m not in the mood for your smart answers, Nelda.”
“If I have to stand here much longer,” she croaked, “I’ll be dead! Good-bye—”
“—Don’t hang up, Nelda. Do you need a doctor?”
“No. Don’t bother me again!”
She leaned weakly against the counter after she hung up the phone. Her head was pounding as if it was caught in a vise, and her stomach was convulsing with dry heaves, protesting the peanut butter sandwich. She hurried to the bathroom and leaned over the commode. When she thought she could make it, she stumbled back through the kitchen to the living-room couch.
When next she roused, Kelly was running through the house barking. It was a nightmare, of course. No, it was reality. Someone was pounding on the door. Nelda struggled to awaken like a swimmer fighting to surface. When she stood and walked to the kitchen, her limbs were like lead. Through a daze she saw Lute’s face through the window of the door. For a few seconds she stood as though turned to stone. Seeing her, he pounded on the door. Then, holding her flannel gown up so she could walk barefoot across the kitchen floor, she unlocked the door, immediately reeling back to the couch in the living room.
“What do you want?” she called back over her shoulder.
“Has Kelly been out?”
“Yes . . . no—”
Lute let Kelly out and then made several trips from outside to the kitchen. Nelda couldn’t see what he was doing from where she lay shaking on the couch.
“Have you taken your temperature?” He came only as far as the living-room door.
“No.”
He shook his head and turned. She could hear his steps going toward the bathroom. He returned with the thermometer in his hand.
“Open up,” he said, and slid it beneath her tongue. He stood looking down at her. His lean brown face was freshly shaven and his hair was neatly combed. When he spoke, his voice held teasing laughter.
“You look anything but the self-sufficient, sophisticated city girl now. You look like a poor little pussy cat dragged in out of the rain.”
She reached to take the thermometer from her mouth so she could retort, but he grabbed her hand.
“Now, now. You’ll have equal time later.”
He crouched down on his heels beside the couch, his palm cupping her chin so she couldn’t open her mouth, and grinned at her. His face was so close she could see the small lines fan out from his eyes, the gold tips on the ends of his lashes, and her own reflection.
“It bothers you, doesn’t it? For once I have the advantage. You’ve got to lie there and listen to what I’ve got to say. No, keep quiet,” he ordered when she made a croaking noise. “Mom made Thanksgiving dinner and put it in the freezer before she went to California for the winter. When Rhetta called—
“Hush,” he said gently when she made protesting noises. “I brought it and put it in the oven.” He picked up her wrist and circled it with his thumb and
forefinger. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes told her he was aware of her recent weight loss.
“There’s giblet gravy, sweet potatoes, and pumpkin pie. Doesn’t that whet your appetite? “He took the thermometer from her mouth and walked to the window. “Hummmm, you do have a fever.”
“How much?”
“Enough that you’ll spend the day right there.”
“How much?” A fit of coughing followed the words.
“Three degrees. I’ll get a couple of aspirin, and we’ll take it again later.” One brow arched. “Aren’t you glad I came over?”
“I’d have managed,” she said ungraciously.
“That’s gratitude for you!” He crossed the room to her and flipped the blanket off her feet. One large hand grasped a foot. “Your feet are cold. I’ll go up and get a pair of socks.” He tucked her feet back under the warm gown and covered her with the blanket.
“Go away,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Don’t be a pickle-puss. You’re angry because I’m here, but you’ll get over it when you smell the turkey and dressing.” He tossed the words pleasantly over his shoulder as he took the stairs two at a time.

 

 

C
hapter
T
hirteen
I’
VE GOT TO GET MYSELF TOGETHER
!
The thought traveled repeatedly through Nelda’s mind. She couldn’t let him see how much she loved him and how glad she was that he was here. Oh, Lord, she felt so rotten, and he was being so . . . sweet. In this mood he was almost irresistible! Why had he come? Had Rhetta laid a guilt trip on him, or was he lonely? That was it. He hadn’t wanted to spend Thanksgiving alone. Where was Miss Home Ec? Maybe she had gone out of town to be with her folks.
She closed her eyes.
Oh, Lord, I wish my head would stop throbbing
.
“Don’t go to sleep before you take these.” Lute’s arm slipped beneath her shoulders and lifted her. She put the tablets in her mouth, and he held the glass of water to her lips. “Don’t you think I’d make a good nurse? I’ve been practicing on the cows and pigs. I’ve even delivered a litter of pups.”
Nelda gulped the water. “Thanks! I’m flattered by the attention of one so gifted.”
“I’m just trying to assure you that you’re in experienced hands.”
“That will be a comfort when the hearse comes to take me away.”
“You won’t shake my confidence with remarks like that.” He tucked the blanket around her shoulders. “Do you want to watch Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade?”
“No. I’m not much for television.”
“You mean to tell me that you don’t watch
Life of Love
or
The Revolving World
?
“I think you mean
Love of Life
and
As the World Turns
. But no, I’m not hooked on them. Believe it or not, I watch news and an occasional ball game.”
“Then you should enjoy the football game this afternoon.”
Lute’s manner was easy, and a roguish light entered his eyes when he teased her. But on close inspection he looked tired. The smooth skin over his cheeks and jaw was tight and drawn, and the jeans that had fit him like a second skin in the late summer no longer did so. There was something different about him that frightened her a little.
“I do like football,” she whispered.
“I remember. You came to all the Lions’ games when I played.” A slow smile curled his lips. “Now go to sleep. I’ve got to let that pesky dog in.”
Nelda had to admit that she was glad that she wasn’t alone. She enjoyed being pampered, especially by Lute. She stopped trying to understand his strange behavior and gave herself up to listening to him moving about the kitchen and talking to Kelly, who was
wiggling around and making a fool of himself over him. How could she possibly go to sleep with him here, she wondered, and it was her last coherent thought before she dozed off.
The smell of food woke her. She lay with her eyes closed for a long moment, then opened them slowly. Lute was sitting in the big chair, his legs stretched out in front of him and his blond head resting on the back cushion. Kelly was standing with his head resting on Lute’s thigh, and Lute’s fingers were lost in the tangle of long red hair about the dog’s ears.
It was a picture she would carry in her heart forever. Lute turned his head. His magnetic eyes met hers and seemed to swallow her. A slow smile softened his face.
“It’s about time you woke up. Do you feel better? I think I should take your temperature again before we eat.”
Kelly followed along behind him when he left the room and was still trailing him when he returned.
“I may sue you for alienation of affection. I thought I had a one-person dog.” That was all she had time to say before the cold thermometer was popped into her mouth.
“He likes me. He’s one smart dog.”
Unable to talk, Nelda rolled her eyes to the ceiling in mock disgust. Lute laughed softly and went back to the kitchen. She watched him leave. He’d removed his boots and was in his socks, heavy gray-wool ones with blue toes and heels. He’d also taken off the heavy sweater, and the tan knit shirt he wore
hugged his broad shoulders. He was making himself at home, she thought with a pang. It was almost as if they lived together.
She was trying to find the reading on the thermometer when he came up beside her and took it from her hand. He moved to the window.
“Are you sure you didn’t shake it down?” he asked, as he squinted to make sure of the reading. “It’s down a degree and a half.”
“I didn’t shake it down.”
“Okay. I’ll take it again later. Dinner is ready. Do you want to go to the bathroom before we eat?” he asked with easy familiarity. “I brought down your robe and your slippers. I also brought down a cup of cold chocolate and a sandwich that looked like a mouse had nibbled on it. Your supper last night?” he asked accusingly.
Nelda swung her legs off the couch and reached for her slippers, but Lute evaded her hand, bent down, and slipped them onto her feet. Her eyes lingered on the top of his blond head. It was hard to believe that just a few days ago they had been shouting angry words at each other. He pulled her to her feet and helped her into her robe while she stood like an obedient child, thanking God she had bought the bulky, loose-fitting Mother Hubbard gown and robe.
“You’re such a little thing.” His eyes slid over her slowly. He raised a finger to her cheek, gently caressing. “Little, but mighty.” His voice was deep and raspy.
Taken completely by surprise by this gentleness when she remembered the hostility in their last
encounter, she moved abruptly away from him. He took her arm and walked with her to the bathroom door, gave her a kindly shove into the room, and pulled the door closed firmly behind her.
Inside the door Nelda put her hands against the sides of her head.
I must be crazy
, she thought.
I shouldn’t have let him in. You’re a fool, Nelda Hanson. You love his touch. You’d give your soul to melt in his arms!
“You could get him to marry you again,” a little imp whispered to her. “Get him to sleep with you again, get pregnant, and he’ll haul you off to the minister like a shot.”
“But what then?” her common sense responded. “He’d resent you for forcing him into an ‘unsuitable match.’ Lute isn’t a man to be pushed. How would he feel about having an unwanted child? Enjoy being with him today,” she told herself. “Soon you can vanish from his life.”
Nelda looked at her reflection in the mirror. Hardly a woman a man could feel romantic about, she thought dryly. Her face was pinched, her eyes dull, and her hair tumbled and ragged. She washed her face and hands and ran a comb through her hair. She considered adding a touch of lipstick but decided against it; he’d guess she had tried to look good for him.

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