When they finally did, and Karina looked up, she said again, sheepishly, “God, I really am so sorry! I don't know what's wrong with me!”
Sue Ann smiled and patted her hand, “You're in love!”
Karina shook her head, “This feels more like insanity than love. I don't think I can take it.”
Sue Ann patted her hand again, “Sure you can, honey. You and Ryan are a perfect match. I've known that for a while. To tell you the truth, the one reservation I had about the two of you was that you might have too many walls up to really let him in, and that he would be left feeling more strongly for you than you did for him.”
Karina laughed self-deprecatingly, “I guess tonight set that particular concern to rest. Although I'd bet it's raised a whole slew of others.”
Sue Ann laughed, “Oh, honey, when I first met my Walter, you should have seen me! I was a wreck! It's a wonder he ever said two words to me. And we were married for 45 years. Insanity? That's what love is!”
Karina sighed and dropped her head into her hands, “What am I going to do?” she queried miserably.
“Well,” Sue Ann said wisely, “If you'd like, you're gonna start by bringing this soup up to his apartment.”
--- ~ ---
Karina padded quietly up the stairs to Ryan's apartment and, when she reached the front door, slid the key into the lock and turned it as slowly and quietly as possible. If he was managing to catch even a few minutes of healing sleep, she didn't want to disturb that.
She edged the door open inch by inch and slipped inside. The room was dim but not dark, lit by a soft floor lamp that sat in the corner, and she could see Ryan sprawled on the couch, eyes closed. Not wishing to disturb him, she quietly set the tray down on his kitchen table, then carried the bowl of soup to his refrigerator and put it quickly inside, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure that the light didn't wake him up.
As she tiptoed back to the front door, planning on easing out as unobtrusively as she had eased in, she heard Ryan's weak voice rasping, “Were you trying to sneak out on me?”
Even in it's thready, tremulous state, she could hear the teasing quality come through in his expressive tone.
She turned and smiled at him, “I didn't want to wake you up, sicky.”
“I wasn't sleeping, just resting my eyes.”
“That's what they all say. Now come on, let's get you into bed,” she said firmly, crossing to where he lay.
Ryan smiled weakly, struggling to get up, “I only wish I felt good enough to take you up on that offer.”
Ignoring his quip, she slid her arm around his back, under his armpits, and supported him as he stood. She could tell that he was trying to lean on her as little as possible, probably wanting to appear strong even in his weakened state. About halfway over to the bed, however, he needed to stop for a moment and rest.
Karina said, in a more accusing tone than she had intended, "My God, Ryan, you're so weak! Have you eaten anything at all today?”
He shook his head, too winded to even answer.
When they reached his bedside, Ryan propped his shoulder against the wall, where he waited as Karina turned down the covers and arranged the pillows. She pulled them into a fluffy pile in the middle of the bed, wanting him to have as much room to spread out as possible.
She turned back to where he waited and supported him as he climbed into the big, comfortable bed. She waited as he scooted to the middle and settled in a half-sitting position, leaning back on the pillows.
He reached behind his head and ineffectually batted at the pillows, complaining, “I just want to lay down flat.”
“Nope,” she responded authoritatively, “That's bad for your breathing. The phlegm will settle in your lungs, and you could get pneumonia.”
He smiled at her, “I don't know if that's true, but I love that you care.”
Truthfully, Karina didn't know if it were strictly true, either. But it was what her grandmother had told her when she was sick growing up and Renata had been taking care of her. Telling the same thing to Ryan now made her feel connected to her childhood, her life, her family – and it brought Ryan into all of that, as well. It made what was between her and Ryan feel even more real. It made her feel something she had never felt for any man before. It made her feel like Ryan was her family.
“Well, it's true,” Karina said again, equally as authoritatively as she had before. I mean, what the hell? It COULD be true. Better safe than sorry.
As she leaned over to pull the blankets up over him, Ryan snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her over to him. Well, 'pulled' was probably overstating. In his weakened state, it felt more like 'nudged.' But Karina was hardly going to pull away. She slid over to where his arm was guiding her.
When she was sitting right next to him, he leaned into her, wrapping both arms around her waist and laying his head on her chest with a contented sigh.
When she looked down and saw his head pressed against her so tightly, she felt a fluttering in her chest that she couldn't quite identify. For some reason it felt so intimate, so much more intimate than she had ever been with anyone.
Which was, of course, ridiculous. I mean, this man had seen every inch of her completely naked. How could one small gesture, when they were both fully dressed, make her feel so exposed? She didn't know the answer to that, but she did know that – while it scared her – she liked it.
Her hands raised, seemingly of their own accord, and began stroking through his hair.
“I missed you,” he mumbled sleepily.
“I missed you, too,” she heard herself say before she could stop the words from coming out of her mouth.
OK, she told herself, this was getting out of hand. Plus, Ryan looked like he could desperately use some nutrition, and he wasn't going to get any if they just sat there hugging all night.
She gently settled him back against the pillows and told him that she would be right back.
When she returned a moment later with a tray carrying crackers, 7-Up, and the newly reheated bowl of soup, she half expected him to be asleep. However, he was fully awake, laying back on the pillows, watching her with a small smile.
“OK, mister, let's get some soup into you,” she said in a no-nonsense tone.
His eyes traveled down to the bowl of soup, and he looked much less enthusiastic.
“Just leave it on the nightstand, I'll eat it later,” he said.
“Nope. I'm pretty sure you need to eat it now.”
He shook his head, “Later, Karina.”
Karina shook her head right back at him, “The choices are sit up and eat on your own or lay back and have me feed it to you. The choices are not, now or later. You have been misinformed, I'm afraid.”
“I said I'll eat it later,” he replied in the firm tone that had worked so well on her in the past. She smirked. He had clearly made the mistake of thinking that what worked on her in the bedroom would work on her any other time.
“Yep, and I said you'll eat it now. And since I could probably wrestle you down and force feed you in your current state, I would suggest that you make it easy on both of us and cooperate.”
As she spoke, she set the tray on his nightstand, sat on the bed next to him, and then moved the tray so that it rested on the bed over his lap.
“Has anyone ever told you your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired?” Ryan grumbled.
“Nope, I have never had any complaints when I play nurse,” she declared cheerfully, spooning some of the soup and placing the spoon in his hand, “although usually my playmate is a 'doctor' and not a 'patient.”
A small rasping gasp escaped him, and he said, “Only you could make me laugh when I feel like death.”
A sense of pride welled up in Karina and she tried to cover it up by saying, “Laugh later, eat now.”
“I like it when you're bossy,” he said smiling.
After he ate few spoonfuls of soup, the color began to return to his face, and he pulled himself up to
sit straighter in bed, far more smoothly and easily than he could have moments before.
“Wow,” he rasped, “I actually do feel slightly better. You were right, I admit it.”
He continued slowly eating as she slid off of the bed and bustled around the apartment, collecting things he needed for his bedside table – tissues, bottled water, and packets of over the counter cold and flu meds.
She did this partially because he needed the things and partially so that he couldn't see her face, couldn't see how deeply affected she was by seeing the results of her actions. He was feeling better now because of her. She had insisted he eat the soup, and the soup had made him better.
She knew it was silly and completely out of proportion for the accomplishment, but she felt ridiculously happy and proud of this.
She had never taken care of anyone before, but with Ryan it felt like second nature.
After Ryan finished his soup and crackers, she carried the tray out to his kitchen and washed the dishes. She came back in to see if there was anything he needed, but found him asleep.
Still, it was not the fevered, unsettled sleep that she had witnessed when she had come in. Instead, he lay in what looked like peaceful, contented slumber.
She leaned over to plant a soft kiss on his forehead and felt that he was still burning up.
Karina went into the bathroom and ran a cloth under cold water, bringing it back to the bed and gently wiping down his face. He stirred a little but did not wake. She refreshed the cloth under the faucet and returned to repeat the process, running the cool cloth over his arms, chest, abdomen, and then back to his face and neck.
She repeated this every half hour or so, every time she felt his skin start to catch fire again.
Near dawn, she was feeling weak with exhaustion, but the thought of leaving Ryan there alone was completely unacceptable to her. She decided to crawl into bed and catch just a few minutes of sleep before getting back up to continue taking care of him. She slipped under the covers next to him, curled up in a little ball, and with a sigh of relief, fell fast asleep.
The next thing she was aware of was opening her eyes to bright sunlight streaming through Ryan's bedroom window.
Damn, she thought to herself, I slept so much longer than I intended to! She turned her head to make sure Ryan was OK, and found him sitting up in bed next to her, smiling.
“Hey,” she murmured groggily as she rolled over and stretched her arms above her head, “How are you feeling?”
“Like a human being again,” Ryan responded, smiling, “Thanks in no small part to your Florence Nightengale-ing last night, I'm sure. Thanks for that.”
“Anytime. No big deal,” she responded, trying as hard as she could to make the tone of her voice match the sentiment of the words.
“It's a very big deal,” Ryan teased, “You broke your personal credo for me. Don't think I don't appreciate it.”
“What credo?” she asked, puzzled.
He grinned widely and responded, “I thought you never spend the night.”
Chapter 24
“I'm not saying I approve,” Renata reiterated to Karina for about the hundredth time, “I don't want there to be any confusion about that.”
Karina got up from her kitchen table and walked over to refill her coffee cup. She had gotten almost no sleep the night before, and it's not as if she had started out the evening feeling well rested. Now, she was pretty much dead on her feet.
As Karina poured the fragrant brew into her cup, Renata said again, “I just don't feel comfortable with there being tension between us, Karina. Life is too short. You are an adult, and you make your own choices. I will respect that. But please don't think that means that I approve.”
“I understand, Grandmother,” Karina said, her voice even and respectful, but as she spoke, she grabbed a fork off of the counter and mimed stabbing herself in the head with it behind her grandmother's back.
“Karina, I have eyes in the back of my head,” her grandmother said sternly.
“Sorry,” Karina mumbled, sitting back down in her chair.
At that moment, the front doorbell pealed, and Karina had honestly never in her life been so glad for the interruption of those insistent bells.
“Oh, look, Grandmother. That's probably Sam. Thanks for dropping by. Good talk!” she said brightly as she stood, trying to make it abundantly clear to her Grandmother that their conversation was at an end.
“I fed and entertained Samantha Holt enough times in my own home that I think she can manage to put up with me now in yours,” Renata said firmly, making it equally clear to Karina that she had no intention of leaving.
Karina's shoulders drooped and she trudged to the front door, opening it listlessly. To her surprise, it was not Sam that stood on her porch, however, but Bernie Kaplan and Davis Johannsen. Her eyes widened.
She looked down at the ratty thermal shirt, faded jeans, and red Converse she was still wearing. She looked like a 12 year old skater kid. And not even a female skater kid, at that.
“Hi!” she said, surprised, stepping back and gesturing them inside, “Did we have a meeting?”
They both walked confidently into her entryway as if they owned the place. Bernie took a deep breath in through his nose.
“Is that coffee I smell?” he asked disarmingly.
"Oh, of course!” Karina said, “Follow me.”
She led the way into the kitchen, the two men trailing behind her. When she saw her grandmother sitting, straight and regal, at her kitchen table, she realized that she had completely forgotten she was in the house.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, “Grandmother, this is my manager, Bernie Kaplan, and the head of my label, Davis Johanssen. This is my grandmother, Renata Blackstone.”
She inclined her head gracefully at the two men, reserved with them, as she was with most new people.
“Pleased to meet you,” Davis said heartily.
Karina expected Bernie to immediately echo this sentiment, but he was silent. She glanced over at him, worried, sure that nothing short of a heart attack or something else equally catastrophic could render Bernie Kaplan silent.
What she saw actually disturbed her more. Bernie was staring at her Grandmother, dumbstruck, and Karina could almost see the cartoon hearts floating around his head the way they used to around Pepe Le Pew's when he would become enamored of the black and white kitty cat.
“No way, don't even think about...” she started, but it was too late. He had slid into the chair across from her grandmother and was staring at her with lovestruck doe eyes.
“Renata,” he breathed reverently, “Such a beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”
Renata extended her hand stiffly for a handshake, and in a tone which was equally as stiff, said, “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kaplan.”
Instead of shaking her proffered hand, Bernie took it gently, turned it one quarter of the way around so that her palm was facing down, and raised it his lips. He pressed it there and Renata – shocked, perhaps – left her hand in his grasp and pressed to his kiss much longer than Karina would have expected.
Finally, she snatched her fingers back and wrapped both of her hands around her coffee cup.
“Mr. Kaplan, you are very bold,” she admonished sternly.
“Do the meek inherit the earth? No, they do not,” he said emphatically, still smiling at her like a lovestruck schoolboy.
“I believe the quote is that the meek DO inherit the earth,” Renata corrected.
“Quote? Who's quoting? I'm talking about the way the world works,” Bernie clarified, his grin spreading until it stretched from ear to ear, “If you want to talk quotes, I have always been partial to 'fortune favors the bold.”
“Oh, dear lord,” Karina interrupted, not able to watch this any longer, “Grandmother, don't you have to go now?”
Renata did not even acknowledge that Karina had spoken. Although her face was as impassive as granite, she continued to look at Bernie.
�
�Grandmother, this is business,” Karina insisted, “Let me see you out, I'll stop by your place later.”
“Don't be silly!” Bernie said expansively, “I'd like to hear your Grandmother's perspective on things. It's clear you got your beauty from her, I'd be willing to bet you got your brains from her, as well!”
Karina squinted at her Grandmother. Was that the barest hint of a smile tugging at the side of Renata's mouth? Karina couldn't tell.
Renata stood gracefully, as she did everything, and crossed the kitchen as she said, “I'm perfectly capable of seeing myself out, Karina. We can continue our conversation later.”
“Or we could not and say that we did,” Karina mumbled under her breath when she heard the front door open and knew Renata must be all the way across the entryway.
“I have ears in the back of my head, as well, young lady,” she heard her grandmother's voice call sternly an instant before the door slammed shut.
Bernie laughed riotously – much more enthusiastically than Karina thought was warranted – and shook his head, impressed.
“She's a smart lady, your grandmother,” he beamed.
Karina placed a hand affectionately on his shoulder, “Oh, Bernie. I hate to break this to you. But you haven't got a snowball's chance.”
Bernie looked entirely undaunted, “To behold beauty is its own reward”
Karina shook her head, “I think the quote is just 'beauty is it's own reward' actually.”
Bernie shrugged, “Who's quoting?”
Davis, as if the entire exchange between Renata and Bernie had not taken place, said, “Karina, we've met with Ryan. We talked to him about building on this buzz and chemistry between the two of you to launch him as a new artist. He's beyond excited.”
“Beyond,” Bernie echoed.
Karina inclined her head.
“What exactly would that entail, on each of our parts?” she asked.
“He'd open for you on your next tour, for one thing,” Davis said.
She nodded. So far so good.
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