Twelve Days of Christmas (8 page)

“Don't want it. Now go.”

Julia set her hand on her hip. “Why are you so anxious to be rid of me? Well, other than you've never been all that happy to see me.”

He frowned as if to say that wasn't entirely true. Not any longer. She doubted he'd ever admit it, but the look on his face said it for him.

“In case you haven't figured it out, I have the flu. Do you want it, too?”

“No worries. I had my flu shot.” Not wanting to argue with him, she wove her way around him and stepped into the kitchen, which was in bad shape. Dishes filled the sink and food items were spread across the counter, including used tea bags and a multitude of cups. Ignoring the mess, Julia brought down a bowl.

“Julia, I'm serious.”

“So am I,” she said over her shoulder. She set the bowl and the container of soup on the counter and pried off the lid. Right away the room was filled with the aroma of chicken and noodles. “Have you had anything to eat today?” she asked as she filled the bowl with the hot soup.

“No.”

“That's what I thought. Sit.” She motioned toward the counter, where he appeared to take all his meals.

Again he grumbled, but he did as she asked. She stood on the other side of the counter and opened and closed the drawers until she found the silverware and then handed him a spoon.

Glaring at her, Cain took a tentative sip of the soup while Julia watched him. His look suggested that the faster he ate, the faster he could be rid of her.

“So?” she asked, with her hands braced against the edge of the counter.

“So what?”

“Hits the spot, right?”

He nodded. Guess that was a victory, although a small one.

“I need to lie down.”

“You should.” His sofa was a mess. He'd apparently spent the majority of the day there. Without asking, she went over to the couch and folded up the blanket and fluffed up the pillows.

“When did you turn into a regular Florence Nightingale?” he asked as he made his way to the sofa.

She checked her watch. “About ten minutes ago. I'll be right back.” She left and returned a few minutes later with yellow rubber gloves, a plastic bucket, and cleaning disinfectant.

“What are you doing now?”

“Cleaning.”

His frown was ferocious. “Don't.”

She glared back at him.

“You're going to do it, anyway, aren't you?”

“Yes.”

He closed his eyes and groaned. “If I had the strength I'd argue with you.”

“You'd lose, so save your breath.”

His apartment was the mirror opposite of her own, so she knew right where to go.

“Julia,” he shouted, with a cutting edge to his voice. “You're upsetting me.”

“I know. I'll be done with these dishes in a minute and then I'll take Schroeder out.”

It seemed all the fight had gone out of him. “Okay.” A couple moments later he shouted, “I thought you said you were nearly finished. What are you doing now?”

“Nothing.”

He was up from the sofa, following her around. Cain closed his eyes as if battling within himself. “God save me from stubborn women.”

“Pray harder,” she told him cheerfully as she went about, remaking his bed and straightening his coverings.

For a moment it looked like he wasn't going to move. He blocked her path out of the bedroom.

“I hope you know that if I wasn't so weak I wouldn't put up with this.”

“I know. You helped me and I'm simply returning the favor.”

“When did I help you?”

How quickly one forgot. “With the tree, remember? You carried it up the stairs for me and helped me set it up.”

He rolled his eyes as if to discount what he'd done.

“And I appreciated it. We had a nice conversation, too.”

His frown was firmly in place. “I don't appreciate this.”

“Didn't think you would.” It went without saying if circumstances were any different he would never have put up with her pushy behavior. “You finish the soup?”

His answer was clipped and sharp. “Yes.”

“Good. Bet you feel better, too.”

“Taking the Fifth on that.”

She grinned. “Figured you would.”

“I don't need you fussing over me, and I definitely don't want you getting sick. Go away.”

Julia's heart leapt at his words. “You don't want me to get sick? So nice that you care.”

“Cut the bull, Julia. What I need is rest and sleep, and you're disturbing both.”

“Give me a few minutes and then I'll leave you in peace. Deal? I've been sick before; I know what it feels like.”

His shoulders sagged. “In that case, leave.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Anything you say, sir.”

He cracked a smile, although she could see he struggled not to let her know he was amused.

“You're a pain in the butt.” Cain waited by the front door until she finished stacking the dishes in the dishwasher and turning it on. “What's taking you so long?” he demanded.

“Patience, my dear man, patience.”

“In case you haven't figured it out, that's in short supply.”

“Sort of guessed as much,” she said as she moved out of the hallway. “I'll be back in thirty minutes with Schroeder.”

“Just go.”

She was actually enjoying this. “I'm only trying to help. You'd do the same for me.”

“No, I wouldn't.”

“Yes, you would. Now, where's Schroeder's leash?”

“Top drawer in the laundry room.” His impatience was clearly evident. “Just go, would you? I need to lie down again. I'm feeling a bit dizzy.”

“Do you need help?”

“What I need is to lie down, which I can't do with you irritating me.”

She left Schroeder and placed her arm around his waist. “Let me help you back to the sofa.”

It surprised her when he didn't make a fuss and allowed her to lead him across the room. He sank down onto the sofa, and Julia had to admit he looked dreadful. She found it hard to leave him, and she looked for ways to linger.

“I thought you were going to walk the dog?”

“I am.” She didn't have an excuse to delay any longer.

As promised, she took Schroeder for a long walk. When she returned she found Cain had propped open the door and was asleep on the sofa. For a long time she simply stood and stared at him, fascinated by him and the shift in their relationship in the last few days. She'd softened toward him, and he'd had a change of heart toward her, too. It was subtle, and while they continued to bicker, it was often in jest.

He must have felt her scrutiny, because his eyes fluttered open. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said softly, sympathetically. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

He blinked a couple times and sat up. “I'm actually feeling better. Not sure if it's the soup or the scent of pine.”

Julia smiled. “Maybe a little of both.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you anything?” Surprisingly, she found herself reluctant to leave. Just as surprising, he seemed equally hesitant for her to go.

“I don't need anything, but…” He paused.

“But?” she prodded.

“Would you like to watch TV with me?”

“Sure.” All in the name of getting to know him better, she told herself.

“I'll let you decide what to watch as long as it isn't one of the animated Christmas specials.”

“My, my, aren't you accommodating,” she teased.

Cain grinned. “Don't know that I'm up to watching
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
is all.”

They spent an hour together and sat in companionable silence. In the best of times Cain wasn't much of a talker, and that was fine. Julia found she enjoyed herself with Schroeder huddled at their feet.

Cain thanked her when she left.

“See you in the morning,” she said. “If you're feeling better, that is.”

“I'm feeling worlds better already. Thanks for the company.”

She should actually be the one thanking him, only he didn't know that or the reason why.

Julia posted the blog. Within minutes of hitting the enter key, comments started appearing on her laptop screen. It was almost as if her readers had been waiting for her post. She watched in utter amazement as the number of hits mounted. It was hard to believe how enthralled people were with this kindness project.

Some of the comments humbled her. Julia's original intention hadn't been all that wonderful. She found Cain to be nothing less than an irritant. If not for Cammie, she would never have thought to do anything more than ignore him the same way he ignored her.

Then she read:

#Blessyou: I want to thank you. I started reading this blog on the third day, when a friend from work shared it with me. My mother-in-law and I have never gotten along. She has never liked me and didn't think I was good enough for her son. For the last five years we've barely tolerated each other. After reading your blog I decided I should try this kindness approach. I know she likes angel figurines, and I saw one on display at a flower shop and bought it for her. (Trust me when I tell you this woman has never been an angel to me!) After work I drove to her house and gave it to her. I could tell she wasn't sure what to make of my unexpected visit. I told her she was probably right that I wasn't good enough for Jack, but with her guidance maybe she could help me be the wife she envisioned for her son. To my astonishment, she threw her arms around me and started crying and apologizing. I wouldn't have believed peace between us was even possible. I have you to thank.

Mandy: You actually washed his dishes? Come on, girl, you're smarter than that. If he wants to live like a slob, let him. That is just plain wrong on so many levels I don't even know where to start.

Julia finished reading the comments and was overwhelmed herself. She closed her computer and sat staring into the distance. It was late, well past the time she should be in bed, but her mind wouldn't let loose of what was happening with her blog and between her and Cain.

After about fifteen minutes, she ran a hot bath and soaked in it while her mind whirled with the assortment of reactions, especially how much she'd enjoyed sitting with Cain and Schroeder and watching television together. Chilled after getting out of the tub, she dressed in her fleece pajamas and headed for bed. She could feel a headache coming on and took two aspirin, determined to get a good night's sleep.

Julia woke at about three and immediately knew she was sick.

Desperately so.

She was barely able to toss aside the covers and rush into the bathroom in time to lose her dinner.

Oh no. This couldn't be happening; it just couldn't.

She had the flu.

Groaning, she stumbled back to bed and curled up in the fetal position. She'd had her flu shot. She should have been protected. Getting sick wasn't supposed to happen. To complicate matters, her week was crammed with commitments and responsibilities. She didn't have time to be sick.

She slept in fits and starts until the alarm rang. It went without saying she wouldn't be able to go to work. With only a few shopping days left until Christmas, the department store was in crazy mode. The timing couldn't be worse.

What was that saying?
No good turn goes unpunished.

Or something like that. Helping Cain and then bragging about showing him kindness had come back to bite her in the butt. And this wasn't a mosquito bite. On no, this felt more like a shark bite.

As soon as she knew she could reach someone at Macy's, Julia phoned in, giving her supervisor the bad news.

“I'm so sorry,” she moaned, knowing how the staff supported one another. Her colleagues counted on her. Now they would need to call in a replacement at the very last minute. If she wasn't already sick enough, realizing she was letting everyone down only made her feel worse.

“Don't worry, we'll muddle through.” Her supervisor was both kind and understanding, when she could have been upset and angry. “You didn't purposely come down with the flu.”

After disconnecting, Julia fought the urge to cry. She was sick and miserable, and it was her own fault. If she'd stayed away from Cain this wouldn't be happening. Instead, she'd had to jump in and save the day like some action hero, never once considering the price she would end up paying.

She'd need to call Jeremy at the Boys and Girls Club and tell him she wouldn't be able to make the practice that evening with the kids. That made her feel even sicker. Jeremy and the kids were counting on her, too.

While she wallowed in self-pity, someone knocked against her front door.

Oh great. The last thing she wanted was company. Dragging the blanket along with her, clenching it closed in a tight fist, she stumbled toward the door.

“Who is it?” She pressed her forehead against the cold wood as a wave of nausea hit her. The entire room started to take a spin.

“Cain,” came the response. “Why aren't you at the elevator?”

This was bad. Real bad. “Go away.”

She heard his groan from the other side of the door. “No! Julia, do you have the flu?”

“Please, just leave me to my misery.”

Her demand was met with silence, and for half a heartbeat she was convinced he'd left. She sighed with relief and started to return to her sofa when he spoke again. She should have known his doing as she asked was too good to be true.

“You said you got a flu shot.”

“I did.”

“Open up,” he demanded.

If he knew how weak she was, he wouldn't be making these demands on her. “I can't.”

“Why can't you?”

She wasn't about to admit that she looked like an Ebola patient and didn't want him to see her with her hair sticking out in every direction, wearing no makeup, and still in her pajamas.

“Julia, open the door. Now.”

It went without saying her protest would have no sway with him.

“Leave me alone.” She knew she sounded overly dramatic, but she couldn't help it.

His response was quick and furious. “Either you open this door or I'm getting the super to open it for me.”

“Cain…”

“Do it.”

“You're going to be late for work,” she argued.

“Screw it.”

“Please…” The word had barely left her mouth when she heard a kick against the door.

He wasn't joking.

Against her better judgment, she unlatched the dead bolt and cracked open the door. “Please, I just want to go back to bed.” Although she could see only a sliver of him through the small opening, he looked dressed and ready for work. That should encourage her that whatever bug this was wouldn't last much longer than twenty-four hours.

“Let me in.” He gently pushed against the door.

Given no choice, she reluctantly stepped back in order for him to come into her apartment.

She knew she looked dreadful, but watching the way his eyes widened when he saw her punctuated it all the more. The impulse to bury her face in her hands was strong, and she would have if she hadn't needed them to hold up the blanket.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, his voice gentler than she'd ever heard it. “This is my fault. I should never have asked you to stay.”

“But I'm glad you did.” If she wasn't weak and sick, she'd never have admitted that.

He sighed and slowly shook his head. “I can't bring myself to regret it, either, although I'm sorry you're sick.”

Not wanting to look at him, Julia hung her head. “I'll be fine…I think. Given time.” Suddenly the cup of tea she'd had revolted in her stomach. Dropping the quilt, she raced into the bathroom. Hands braced against the toilet, she lost the tea and whatever else was left in her stomach. Eyes closed, she fervently prayed that when she opened them again Cain would have left the apartment.

God apparently was out Christmas shopping, because He didn't hear her prayer. Carefully straightening, she chanced a look. Sure enough, Cain stood in the doorway to her bathroom with a washcloth in his hand.

“The first twelve hours are the worst.”

This was said to encourage her, but it did little to lift her spirits. Groaning, she gratefully accepted the cool cloth and wiped her mouth. “I can't be sick. I've got too much to do today.”

“I know the feeling. Come on. I'll tuck you back into bed. Sleep is the best thing you can do for yourself now. I'll check in with you later.”

He led her into her bedroom and lifted the covers and then gently covered her up. His hand moved to her forehead and brushed back her hair.

“Do I have a fever?” It certainly felt like she did.

“I don't think so.”

That had to be wrong. “I do. I know I do.”

“Okay, fine, you have a raging fever.”

“That's more like it,” she whispered, satisfied now. Sighing, Julia bit into her lower lip. She never expected Cain to be so caring or concerned.

He lingered at her bedside, as if he wanted to do or say something more.

“You don't need to stay with me.” She brought her hand out from beneath the blanket and waved him away. “You can go.” If he was late for work it would be her fault and she had about all the guilt she could handle for one day. Even now, she wasn't entirely sure what an actuary did, but it sounded important.

“You'll be all right by yourself?”

“Of course.” She wasn't sure, but she didn't want him fussing over her. He was probably right; the best thing for her now was sleep. Although she'd been awake only an hour, her eyes felt heavy.

“Sleep,” he whispered.

“Okay.” She closed her eyes and it felt good to forget about all she should be doing.

It was then that she felt it. Cain lingered as if he found it hard to leave. And then he did something else. Something that had her heart racing. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her forehead. His touch was so light that for a moment she thought she might have imagined it.

“Sleep tight,” Cain said in a low voice, and then he added, “I'll call you later.”

She didn't dare speak for fear he'd know she was awake. Only after he left did she remember that Cain couldn't phone her. They'd never exchanged numbers.

It was a few minutes before she heard her apartment door gently close. Within seconds after he left the apartment, Julia was sound asleep.

She woke at about noon and felt only slightly better. The dizziness was gone, although her stomach felt like the bottom of a sewage plant. When she wandered into her kitchen for another cup of tea, she found a note from Cain.

Drink lots of liquids and rest. No arguing.

She rolled her eyes and carted the hot tea to the sofa, where she turned on the television. With cable she had about a hundred different channels to choose from, and she couldn't find a solitary program that interested her. After turning the TV off, she tossed the remote on the end table. Her phone was there, so she reached for it and checked for messages.

She had several. A couple were from work friends, wishing her a speedy recovery. Cammie had called and left her a voice mail. Julia had been so out of it that she hadn't even heard her phone ring.

There was also a call listed for an unidentified number. She couldn't remember making any calls. She had to wonder if she was in such a fevered state that she'd forgotten. While she held the phone in her hand, it started to buzz. Someone had placed it on vibrate. Checking out the number, she saw it was the same one she'd supposedly called earlier.

“Hello,” she answered tentatively.

“You're up.”

It was Cain. He'd apparently used her phone to call himself so he had her number.

“Yes.”

“You feel better?”

“A little.” She laid her head down, as sitting up was making her sick again.

“You sleep?”

“Yeah.”

Cain hesitated. “Not very talkative, are you?”