Hope(less) (25 page)

“Are you okay?” she questioned me with concern lacing her
voice.

Behind us, I could hear Clay’s soft footfalls.

“I think I’m getting sick or s-s-something.”  I felt colder
without Clay’s borrowed warmth.  “Clay felt my head, but s-said I didn’t feel
warm.”

“Is Rachel going to be home tonight?  You said she’s going
to school for nursing, right?  You can check with her to see if there’s
something going around on campus.  The nursing students doing clinicals always
seem to know.”  Nicole switched position so her arm wrapped around me, chafing me
in an attempt to warm me.  I thought it hilarious since I wore a flannel and
she had a strapless dress on.

“Good idea.”  The sounds of the party slowly faded to a
normal decibel.  I tried using my sight to make sure no one followed us and
felt a sharp pain in my head instead.  I flinched and immediately stopped my
effort.  Nothing appeared in my brief peek.  No lights at all.  That never
happened before.

When I spotted the car down the block, I sighed in relief. 
All I could think about was getting home, taking a hot shower and going to bed.
 Clay surprised me by jogging to the car to start warming it up.  He held the door
open while Nicole helped me into the front.

“Do I look as b-bad as I f-feel?” I tried to joke.  The
shivering grew worse.

Nicole looked at Clay, but he kept his eyes on me so she
answered, “Well, you do look like you’re coming down with something.  I’m so
sorry I begged you to come out tonight, Gabby,” she apologized sincerely.

“Don’t w-worry about it.  It w-was r-really interesting,” I
assured her, forcing the words through my tensed jaw.

Very interesting.  After watching her and the people at the
party, I felt certain I’d somehow passed the pull I usually had, on to her. 
And, in the process, I broke my mental fish finder too.

The drive home only took a few minutes.  Clay drove fast
keeping an eye on me and the road.  I continued to shiver despite the heat pouring
from the vents.  Sensing Clay’s tension, Nicole remained quiet in the back
seat.

The sight of our darkened house relieved me, even if I did
know we wouldn’t have any heat inside.  Clay smoothly pulled into the driveway
stopping by the back door.  Nicole said a quick goodbye inside the car so Clay
could help me inside right away.  “I hope you feel better.  I’ll see you on
Tuesday.”

I nodded, my jaw clenched and aching from shivering so much. 
She hurried down the driveway to her own car while Clay stalked around the
hood.  His eyes never left me.  I couldn’t look away.  He opened the door and
bent to help me out with concern in his eyes.  Between the shaking, the headache,
and the stiffness I felt from shaking, I had all the symptoms of the common
flu.  And I wanted it to go away.

Supporting me with one arm, we made it around the car and to
the porch.  My shivering increased to spasmodic as he unlocked the door with
ease.  Unlocking the door as a dog made this kind of move child's play.  Much easier
with an opposable thumb.

The quiet house told me Peter and Rachel must have gone out
after all, which pleased me.  I’d rather not have an audience to whatever
decided to plague me.  Slipping from Clay’s helpful embrace, I started tugging off
the flannel making my way to the bathroom.

“Clay c-can you get my towel?” I asked, dropping the flannel
on the carpet outside the bathroom.

Had I felt better, I might have worried about how that
sounded.  But, really, I just wanted to stop shivering.

He moved past me striding to the bedroom.  His coveralls
caught my eye again.  I had to remember to ask him about those later.

I closed the door and struggled out of the t-shirt.  Losing
my balance as it cleared my head, I bumped into the sink. The chilly porcelain
along with the cool air prickled my skin causing more gooseflesh.  Curling the
fingers of one hand on the sink for support, I lowered myself to sit on the
toilet seat.

Tired and cold, I weakly kicked off my shoes and then began
to pull off my socks.  Without meaning too, I started whining like a little
kid.  I needed to warm up.  Shivering sucked.  The more clothes I took off, the
worse it got.  And it messed with my finger coordination making it harder to
finish what I started.

Standing again, I tried to manipulate the button on my jeans. 
I’d just begun to debate if a hot shower was worth the effort, when Clay tapped
on the door.

“J-just a s-sec,” I said in a panic.  “I’m not ready,
y-yet.”  In desperation, I yanked the button free a moment before Clay opened
the door anyway.  “Hey!”  I crossed my arms over my chest even though I still wore
my bra.  Sick and outraged I glared at him for a moment.  It cost too much
energy to maintain.

He tossed the towel he carried on the toilet lid and then moved
past me without a glance.  Pulling back the shower curtain slightly, he turned
on the water.  Hearing the patter, I wanted to groan and smack my forehead.  I
hadn’t thought to turn it on so it would warm up.

Then he turned from the shower, bent, and had my pants
unzipped and down around my feet before I could move.  I stared down at him in
complete shock.

“Clay, g-get out!”  Had I not stuttered, it would have been
an impressive shriek.  Instead, it came across weak and he ignored it. 
Embarrassed, I begged, “Really, I c-can do the rest.”

He stayed crouched by my feet, looking away, and indicated I
should step out of the pants.  Of course, he wouldn’t listen to me when I
sounded ready to have a seizure from cold any minute.  I looked down at his
turned head so close to my belly and wanted to push him over.  But my legs quivered
and I knew I’d just end up falling over too.  Obstinate man.

Sacrificing my pride for coverage, I used a hand on his
shoulder to steady myself and stepped out of the pants.

Crossing my arms again, I demanded, “N-now, out Clay.”

He stood with my pants in one hand and shook his head
keeping his gaze averted.

“The h-hell you s-say!”  Oh, if my grandma had heard that, I
would have gotten an earful and then she would have laughed because I’d learned
it from her at a tender age.

I watched Clay closely as he reached around me to set the
pants on the towel.  Straightening, he pulled back the curtain, and held out a
hand for me.  Steam started filling the air as I stared at him with
belligerence.  Did he really think I’d undress in front of him?

He continued to look at the wall, patiently waiting for me. 
The shivers grew worse and I debated my stubbornness.  With his hair pulled back,
I could clearly see his eyes and knew he at least wasn’t peeking.  I didn’t
understand why he continued with his own pigheadedness and wouldn’t just leave
to let me do the rest.

He seemed to sense my need for an explanation and nodded his
head toward the shower before tapping the high edge of the tub with his booted
foot.

“You’re s-staying until I’m in?  So I don’t fall?” I
guessed.

He shrugged and I knew I guessed right.

With a defeated sigh, I uncrossed my arms and clasped his
hand.  The spray of the shower angled toward the front of the tub making it
possible to step in without getting my remaining clothes wet.  He closed the
curtain behind me and I waited to hear the click of the door.

Once I knew he left, I finished undressing, tossing my
things on the bathroom floor and stepped into the hot spray of water.

It felt so good that I stayed there, just standing under the
spray, for several long minutes.  A slight side-to-side rocking motion my only
movement to keep all of me as warm as possible.  The shivers lessened, but
didn’t disappear leading me to believe they weren’t really due to the cold.  My
energy drained further with each minute making my headache progress to a steady
thump.  When I heard the click of the door again, I knew I’d pushed it.

“Clay?”

I heard a grunt, but peeked around the curtain to be sure.  He
stood holding out a towel with his eyes closed.  I turned off the water and
grabbed the towel.

With the towel securely wrapped around me, I peeked out
again.  Clay turned around so he faced the door, but held out a hand to help me. 
Clasping it again, I got out of the shower warmer, but more exhausted than when
I’d gotten in.

I hustled as best I could to my room.  Choosing wisely, Clay
remained outside my closed bedroom door as I threw on the warmest pajamas I
owned.  Standing next to the bed, shivering, I did my best to blot the dripping
water from my hair, but my arms quickly grew too tired.  Giving up, I tossed
the towel to the floor.

Trying to dry my wet hair caused me to lose all the heat I’d
gained from the shower by the time I crawled between the covers.  I curled into
a ball rubbing my feet together trying to generate more heat.

Clay must have been listening for me to get under the covers
because he walked in as soon as I lay in bed.  He turned off the lights and I
listened to the familiar rustle of clothes.  Instead of the usual bounce of him
jumping up on the end of the bed, he peeled back the covers and the opposite
side of the bed dipped as he slid in next to me.

“I really hope you’re wearing shorts or something.” I
murmured, my words starting to slur.

I didn’t bother to pretend I wasn’t interested in what he offered. 
Heat radiated from him, chasing the chill from the sheets.  I stuck my cold feet
right on his legs and shimmied over to his side huddling against his warmth. 
And boy was he warm.  Sighing, I immediately fell asleep still shaking.

*    *    *    *

Bright light filled the room when I peeled my eyes open, barely
consciousness.  I still lay against Clay basking in his warmth.  My headache
had faded from a steady thump to an annoying dull ache.  I felt drained and
still very tired.

Tilting my head with effort, I met his observant gaze. 
Worry glazed their chocolate brown depths.  I tried swallowing, but the muscles
didn’t want to work.

I rasped out, “I’m thirsty.”

He moved to get out of bed and I closed my eyes.  I didn’t
want him to prove me wrong about the shorts.  After a few seconds of hearing
nothing, I forced my eyes back open.  He stood next to the bed holding a full
glass of water out to me.

Shakily leveraging myself up on an elbow, I grasped the
glass.  Its coolness felt good going down.  I drank it all and handed him the
empty glass.  He watched me curl up with my pillow.

I closed my eyes.

*    *    *    *

The next time I woke, I checked my alarm clock.  The red
digits showed two in the afternoon.  Turning my head on the pillow, I happily
noted the absence of weakness and pain.  Whatever I’d done to cause my sudden
illness, a good night’s sleep, and part of the day, appeared to have helped.

Gingerly, so as not to bring my symptoms back, I boosted
myself into the sitting position.  Clay no longer lay beside me.  Glancing at
my closed bedroom door, I figured he must have gotten bored watching me sleep. 
I didn’t blame him.  I still felt a little tired.

Although I could have lain back down and slept longer, I
pulled myself from bed to grab my books.  I’d lost a night of studying because
of the party, and most of today too.  I couldn’t afford to lose more time.

A moment later, I hopped back into my warm nest of blankets,
books in hand.  With my pillows stacked up behind me, I spread the work out in
front of me.  I still had a few assignments from Friday to finish.  In
addition, I needed to review the prior week’s materials to make sure I didn’t
miss anything.

After about fifteen minutes of studying, I smelled bacon.  My
stomach growled loudly and the aroma tempted me to leave my warm bed.

The door opened fractionally and Clay peered in.  Seeing me
sitting up, he nudged the door further to show a plate of food and a glass of juice. 
His appearance ended my internal debate and saved me from exposure to the cold.

“Thank you.  I’m starving,” I said with a smile moving the
book on my lap to the side.

He handed me the plate with fork and set the orange juice on
the dresser.

I dug in right away, not realizing the extent of my hunger
until the first bite touched my tongue.  Eggs, bacon, potatoes and toast vanished
in minutes.

Without a word, Clay handed me the glass of juice.

I drank it slowly starting to feel the pull of sleep.  With
a full belly, resisting sleep would prove difficult.  I patted the bed next to
me.  “Want to read by me?”  Maybe company would help keep me awake.

He flashed me a smile, collected the dishes, and left the
room.  I heard him move in the kitchen, running the water.  I wrinkled my nose
and risking the cool air once again, flipped back the covers for a quick visit
to the bathroom.

When I dashed back into my room eager for the warm bed, I
saw Clay already lounging on the covers reading a book.

We spent the rest of the day together quietly in my room.  Clay
read next to me while I paged through notes and completed the reading
assignments.  He left the room a few times, bringing me back a drink each time.

Near dinner, Clay closed his book with a snap and left the
room.  I heard Rachel’s car pull into the driveway a few moments later.  Before
I heard her car door close, he returned wearing his fur again.  I grinned at
him as he jumped up on the end of the bed and stretched out my feet to tuck
under his warm body.  Somewhere in the house, Rachel would see a pile of
clothes.

Monday morning I felt better and got ready for class under
Clay’s scrutiny.  He didn’t voice any complaint when I left, but I knew he
worried that a full day so soon after recovering would overtax me.  And he was
right.  By the last class of the day, I wanted to go to bed.

Dinner waited when I got home, two steaming bowls set on the
table.  I dropped my bag next to the back door and flopped into the closest
kitchen chair.  Clay picked up my bag and carried it into my room while I
started eating.  Soup.  Perfect.  Curiously eyeing the contents I couldn’t
remember buying, I guessed he’d somehow managed to go grocery shopping.