by Meg Napier
I continued to feel perfectly healthy, and Dad’s temperature came way down. Better still, Mom still felt fine, too. She had no symptoms and said she wanted to sit with me on the main porch. I refused; she had another six days in isolation. I couldn’t handle anyone else getting sick.
Becky said Saul was on his second day without a fever, but she’d seen this before. “He’ll have a fever tonight. Just watch. It’s going to drive him up the wall, but keep him isolated. He’s going to be fine.”
Dad and Darren were both improving; they were breathing more deeply. It made Becky giggle to think that Dad was recovering faster than Darren. “The good-looking guy will be out soon; his temperature is normal now. But he is convinced he’s heading for a ventilator.”
The thought of Darren’s returning health should have made me feel relieved; it would be great to see him again. I’d discovered that when I couldn’t see Darren, I forgot how magnetic and sunny he was.
Philip left for the crab pots without me again.
Quarantine: My day 17, Day 18 (Saul), Day 13 (Darren), Day 9 (Dad)
Hallelujah! The Frosty Season was over. Philip was talking to me again!
I had Darren to thank for it. Nurse Becky had pointed out to him that he was on his second day without a fever. If he could stay fever-free for 72 hours without Tylenol, he’d be cleared to leave isolation soon, but Darren had apparently become fixated on an early martyrdom. Live fast, die hard, leave a good-looking corpse—that sort of thing.
He decided he needed a last will and testament. He just needed a lawyer to write it up for him.
When I asked why he couldn’t write up his own will, he protested that he needed legal counsel. I think he was just looking for a little additional attention.
But Saul was napping and Kumiko refused to answer her phone. So he tried Philip…
…who appeared in the kitchen with eyes streaming from laughter. “His will? He wants me to draw up his will?”
Philip had been beside me when Becky gave her good report; he knew as well as I did that Darren was in no danger.
“What did you tell him?” I asked, laughing myself.
“I told him to snap out of it. I opened my mouth and Deadpool came out.” He repeated a particularly profanity-laced line from the movie and then he and I collapsed in hysteria. “What happens if I do that in a client meeting?” he gasped. “What happens if I start spouting Deadpool to all the suits? I may be ruined forever!”
The laughter felt like sunlight. Like redemption. I had my friend back.
Quarantine: My day 18, Day 19 (Saul), Day 14 (Darren), Day 10 (Dad)
Thunderstorms had rolled through the area around sunset so Philip and I had our after-dinner movie in the great room. He’d picked the movie—Stripes, which surprised me.
“Stripes?” I teased. “You sure it’s not too intellectual for you?”
“Shut up,” he said easily as he settled on the sofa next to me. “I loved this movie when I was a kid. I want to see if it’s still funny.”
It was. And it was an ideal antidote for caring for three people with the Coronavirus—and keeping two more people safe.
No, I amended. Keeping four people safe, for it wasn’t just Kumiko and Mom who needed to stay healthy. Philip and I, despite doing all the work for the patients, were still breathing easily. No fevers. It looked like we were escaping the plague.
We sat in silence after the movie ended, the room lit only by the screensaver that finally took the place of the movie.
“Here’s why this is a great day,” he offered.
“You mean, besides how well Stripes has stood the test of time?”
“Exactly.” He sighed contentedly. “This is actually day fourteen for Darren. Kumiko could have bolted by now, but I think she’s lost track of time.”
I laughed out loud. “I forgot!”
“I didn’t. I’m looking forward to not having to wait on a perfectly healthy person.”
I nodded, knowing exactly the resentment that was revising his opinion of his staff member.
“Darren will be out soon, too,” I commented. “Becky says he’s probably finished his last fever. He’ll be out the day after tomorrow, probably.”
“Are you glad?” He scratched at the back of his neck and when his hand came back down on the sofa between us, it was just brushing my fingers.
This distracted me from my reply. “Um, yeah. Of course,” I replied automatically.
Philip sighed, leaned his head back on the sofa, and closed his eyes. “Why do you like him?”
For a moment, I couldn’t remember why. “I don’t know. He’s handsome, I guess.” My answer was lame, but Philip didn’t mock me.
“Yes, he is. That’s why we hired him.”
“What?!”
“Well, he’s a lawyer, and all that. He can do the work, more or less. But a good-looking guy like that? People want to talk to him. He’s great at taking depositions. People just unconsciously want to please him. You know. Big and blond.”
He rolled his head and opened his eyes so he was looking at me.
“Yeah. I know.” I was thinking about Darren—and about Philip’s hand lying next to mine. “He’s a player, though. Right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, how many girlfriends has he had since he’s been working for you?”
Philip’s face creased in a grin. “I haven’t got a clue. I don’t socialize with my staff. And definitely not with the young ones. I find young men of 27 to be exceedingly tiresome.”
“Me, too,” I agreed. “I mean, I find them tiresome, too.”
“So? Why chase them?”
Yet another fair question from the Puzzle Master. “I don’t know. I guess… all the men my age are taken. Or dreadful.”
The room was still and warm and dark. I felt a sense of trust in Philip… and I found myself admitting my deepest secret. “I tell people I’m 32, but I’m really 38. I told Darren I was 28.”
Confession, it’s said, is good for the soul—and now I understood that. I suddenly felt physically lighter.
“Oh, yeah?” His voice demonstrated mild curiosity only. “Isn’t that exhausting?”
“Exhausting,” I agreed. “Utterly exhausting.”
He laughed. “Why do it?”
I shook my head, not sure I could sum up the totality of life for women edging close to 40 these days. “In my job, youth is like enriched plutonium. If you don’t have it, you’re powerless. You have to be up on every trend. Drink the right vodka. Listen to the right bands. Do your hair in the newest way. And never, ever show a wrinkle. All they want is youth. Youth!”
My frustration welled up in me and my voice was rising. And then Philip reached those tiny inches farther and took my hand in his.
“Youth,” he said with a sigh. “Like Bright!” He bugged his eyes out at me and fixed me with a manic grin and suddenly I was laughing and weaving my fingers through his.
“Exactly! And I’m so tired of it!”
Our laughter died away and I was left contemplating the intimacy of one naked palm pressed to another.
“I’m 47,” he said thoughtfully. “I guess that’s too old.”
“Too old for what?” I turned my head to look at him and somehow we were far closer to each other. I could feel his breath on my cheek and I was suddenly light-headed with excitement.
“I’m not sure,” he sighed. And then somehow the distance to his lips decreased by half. “I’m sorry, Joan,” he said. “I know you’re seeing Darren. But I really want to kiss you, and to hell with the Coronavirus. May I?”
My heart was pounding in my ears and I gasped at his words. “Oh, yeah…” I sighed.
And then his lips, soft and gentle, were on mine at last.
He slid along my mouth slowly, testing my response and inhaling my gasps of dizzy delight. Our lips interlocked, my upper lip sandwiched between his, leaving me free to bite my lower lip in excitement.
He groaned and eased
his lips apart. The light touch of his tongue was a question; was I ready to take the kiss deeper?
Oh, I was. My mouth opened to him and then our tongues were tangling—sliding and seeking and tasting the secret flavors. His free hand cradled my cheek as if I were the most fragile, precious creature in the world.
My heart was racing and I felt weak and strong at the same time. Somehow I was turned into him, his arms around me and mine around his neck. His hair was silky under my fingers and his skin was both rough and soft under my palm. He leaned me over and I went willingly, pulling him down on top of me—and still he cared for me as if I were fragile.
He treated me as if he could stop if I said as much as a single word. He was giving me the choice.
My choice was—more. He tucked in next to me on the sofa, making himself and me comfortable, and pulling my legs over his. I was all but cradled against him. Then he fully explored my face…
…and just my face.
Where any of the young men I’d dated would have been heading for breast or crotch right off the bat, Philip was tracing patterns on my temples with his lips, touching my nose, exploring my earlobes.
And it was lifting the top of my head right off.
He’d just begun to lay a series of nibbles along my jawline when he breathed a big sigh against my neck and stopped moving.
“You okay?” I asked, breathlessly.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m just thinking that if we keep going, something might happen that—maybe this isn’t the right time for that something.”
My breath left me on a long sigh. “You mean…”
“I don’t want to be a quarantine one-night-stand, Joan. Do you understand? I want you. Badly. But I don’t just want that. I want to make sure you and I are good when we’re not in a lockdown situation. Do you understand?”
“Like, you want to see me once we’re out of here?”
“Well…” For the first time, he looked shy. “Yes. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “I’m okay with that.”
“Oh. Good.” The pleased little smile looked great on him. He pulled back and sat up, tugging me upright with him. “Then we wait. And I get control of myself.”
I was impressed. Frustrated—but impressed.
“You don’t hate me?” he asked. “You don’t think I’m an old man?”
“I don’t hate you,” I said with a slow smile. “I don’t think you’re an old man. I think you’re pretty amazing.”
That gave him a cocky grin that was even better looking. “Good. Okay. Then I’m leaving now, before I say something stupid and ruin it. Good night, Joan.” He kissed my lips worshipfully—no tongue, plenty of heat—and then he was gone.
Wow.
Philip. Wow.
Quarantine: My day 19, Day 20 (Saul), Day 15 (Darren), Day 11 (Dad)
Kumiko arrived on the back deck like a Valkyrie on a mission. Philip and I were sitting at a breakfast table. We weren’t even holding hands, but we jumped guiltily apart as if she’d caught us doing something wrong.
It didn’t matter; Kumiko could see nothing but her exit.
“This is it!” she crowed. “Day fourteen!”
“Day fifteen,” Philip muttered, making me giggle, but Kumiko was oblivious.
“I am out of here. And you need to come with me.” She fixed her dark, lovely eyes on Philip. I noticed, startled, that her shining dark hair was no longer as shiny. Her porcelain skin was showing signs of wear in the morning sunlight.
“Not me, Kumiko. I was exposed when Joan’s dad was diagnosed. I’ve still got… three more days.”
I beamed at him in sudden delight. I’d lost track, but he was right. He and I—and most importantly, Mom—had gone eleven days since Dad’s diagnosis without a single symptom between us. And I’d gone more than two weeks since stupidly playing tonsil hockey with the Golden Virus Boy. I began to hope that perhaps we were going to escape the contagion.
“Oh, to hell with the quarantine! Let’s get out of here!”
Kumiko decided to change her tactics. She dropped the handle of her bag and pulled a chair up to Philip’s other side (I being the obstacle in her way from sitting on that side).
“Philip,” she said breathlessly, “Let’s get past this stage. You know I’m perfect for you. It’s time you had a second marriage.”
I blinked at the startling directness of this approach, but Philip’s calm in the face of her campaign gave me confidence. He wasn’t falling for it.
“You had a first marriage?” I asked him.
He nodded at me with great seriousness, as if Kumiko wasn’t at that moment attempting to hold his hand. “Cecile. We divorced years ago. Very nice lady. She didn’t like how much I worked.”
“But I wouldn’t mind!” Kumiko purred. “I love how much you work. And I’d work at your side!”
He turned to her, clearly trying to maintain a neutral expression. “Kumiko,” he began, but she cut him off.
“Come with me. We could co-quarantine. It’s all the rage. Lots of people are doing it. We’ll tuck ourselves away someplace cozy and really get to know each other. Your penthouse, for example.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You have a penthouse?” I asked, interestedly.
“No,” he said. “It’s up high, though. Nice view. Not like this, of course.” He looked wistfully to the dock and the party barge and the waterway past it.
“Or, no!” Kumiko had come up with another idea. “Your place in Montauk! You have a house at the end of Long Island, don’t you? We could go there. Let’s go there, darling.”
He was trying to be gentle with her. “It’s a fishing shack, Kumiko. It’s not a Hamptons mansion.”
“That’s all right, Philip. I can decorate it for you. Or we can put on an addition.” I suppressed a startled laugh; Kumiko was really going all out. “I’m great at things like that,” she insisted. “But wherever we go, can’t we get out of here now? Haven’t we been here long enough?”
She opened her eyes wide and looked at him from under her lashes, attempting to drown him in a puppy dog expression of love.
“Will you excuse me?” he said politely to me as he rose, drawing Kumiko after him.
“Certainly,” I said, even though obviously I was longing to hear what came next.
Philip took her wheeled bag in one hand and her elbow in the other and walked her into the inn.
From above me, my father’s voice floated down in a hoarse whisper.
“What’s happening now?”
“Dad!” I stepped back until I could see him sitting on his balcony. “You big eavesdropper! How did you not cough the whole time?”
“I told you I’m feeling better. What’s happening now?”
Jeesh. With all the open windows, balconies, and decks, it was fully impossible to keep any secrets in this house.
“I’m not going to spy on them,” I said primly.
“Why not?” he came back quickly. “I like that one, Joanie. I think that’s the guy you should be after.”
“Dad!” There’s nothing like taking love advice from a father to put a chill on any amorous inclinations.
“Go see what they’re doing. Go on. I can’t leave this damned room. Yet. Do it for me. I’m bored out of my mind.”
“Dad…” Still, I was a good daughter and would do anything to keep my beloved father occupied. Yeah. That was a good-enough excuse. So…
I moved until I could see down the hallway and out the front door. “They’re at their rental car. He’s talking to her.”
“Is she going quietly?”
From the side of the house, I heard a new voice coming from the balcony of the never-met Saul. “She won’t go quietly. Kumiko won’t do anything quietly.”
I craned my head to see him. A nice brown head was peering down at me from around the corner of the house. “Saul?” I asked. “How do you do? Feeling better, I see?”
“I’ll be out in a few days. Wh
at’s happening now?”
“Yeah,” said my father. “You’re a terrible spy. What can you see?”
The pair of them would be the death of me. It was lucky Mom and Darren had balconies away from this side of the house… although, thinking about it, it was likely they, too, were on their balconies and watching the scene in the driveway firsthand.
“Well, let’s see.” I peered again through the hallway. “She’s got her arms—oh, wow.”
“What?” Saul and Dad spoke in unison.
“She tried to kiss him.”
“See? Told you she wouldn’t go quietly,” Saul said. “Then what? What did he do?”
“Pulled her hands away from his neck and stepped back.”
“Clear sign of rejection,” my father commented. “She needs to read the room.”
“Not when she wants this so much,” Saul said. “That woman’s a shark. Hell on contract law, of course…”
“Yeah, yeah. What now?” Dad asked.
“He’s loading her bag into the back of the rental. Now he’s giving her the keys. Oh. Whoops.”
“Whoops what?” Dad asked.
“Not turned away so easily,” Saul offered.
“Yeah. She threw the keys away. Right into that poison ivy, Dad. You should have gotten rid of that.”
“I did. It came back.”
“Watch,” said Saul. “One toxin knows another. There’s no way Kumiko will head into poison ivy to retrieve them.”
“She doesn’t want the keys at all,” Dad opined, “unless Philip is attached to them.”
“The pair of you are like old gossips,” I scolded.
“Sure,” said Dad. “Now what’s happening?”
“Oh, yeah. Nice move. Philip is using a rake. He’s—no. Yeah. He’s got the keys.”
“And Kumiko is stamping her foot,” Saul guessed.
“Like a three-year-old,” I confirmed. “They’re talking. They’re—yikes!” I had to leap backwards out of view. Both of my audience members craned over their respective balconies.
“What?” they both wanted to know.
“He pointed at the house and they both looked right at me,” I gasped, caught between embarrassment and laughter. I was pretty sure Philip had just told Kumiko she wasn’t the girl he was interested in, but I wasn’t going to share that with the invalids over my head.