"It’ll be all right, Honey," she soothed. "Maybe she’d be better off in the hospital overnight."
"Let’s check her out before we make any decisions," Martin suggested. "I’d like to take her temperature again and then see how her stomach is."
"She’s naked, Martin. Let me get some clothes on her first. She’s a little shy around her Da." She gave him a fond smile and moved to her partner as Martin left the room, sighing heavily as she considered another round of struggles to get her dressed.
"Let me help you, Sweetheart," Maeve said. "As a matter of fact, let me get her dressed while you take a nice, hot shower. You obviously haven’t had a moment to yourself today."
"That bad?" Jamie asked, casting a quick glance into the mirror to confirm her suspicions.
"Let’s just say you’re not up to your usual high standards," Maeve said diplomatically.
"Are you sure you can get her dressed, Maeve? She’s a handful."
"I’m stronger than I look, Jamie. And regrettably, I’ve learned an awful lot about nursing in my 57 years."
Jamie just patted her arm in understanding, hoping fervently that she never had to learn the tough lessons that Maeve had been forced to face.
When Jamie emerged from the shower, she felt substantially better. She dressed carefully, trying to force some normalcy by at least looking decent. To her absolute shock, Ryan was sitting up, sipping a cup of tea with her father and aunt, and munching on a couple of cookies, or biscuits as the O’Flahertys referred to them.
When Ryan saw her she lifted her mug, saying, "All I needed was some of my aunt’s tea, Jamie."
"Do you feel better?"
"Yeah. Aunt Maeve got me awake and took my temperature. It’s down!" she said, with one of her first smiles of the week.
Jamie felt her forehead, detecting a noticeable lessening of the raging fever. "What was it, Maeve?" she asked.
"Just a little over 100," Maeve revealed. "I think our dear heart is on the road to recovery."
"I know it sounds odd, but I think I hit rock bottom this afternoon when I was throwing up. Maybe I’m on the upswing now, huh?" Ryan said with hope-filled eyes.
"God, I hope so," Jamie sighed, leaning over to kiss her partner’s cooling forehead.
"Jamie has been so awesomely wonderful," Ryan enthused, smiling at her partner. "She’s taken such good care of me. Against overwhelming odds," she added. "Lord knows I’m no fun to be around when I’m sick."
"No argument there, " Martin said, seeing no need to sugarcoat the truth.
"Oh, she’s not that bad," Jamie insisted, sitting by her partner on the bed. "Once we got over the disappointment from missing the volleyball game, she’s been very compliant."
"It helps that I was out of my rational mind," Ryan reminded her. "When you could hold me down with one finger on my chest I knew I was in trouble."
"The good news," Martin decided, "is that if the trend holds, you’ll have another 20 years before she’s this sick again."
"20 years!" Ryan cried. "I couldn’t handle this again that soon!"
Later that night, just before Jamie climbed into bed, she asked, "Do you need anything, Baby?"
Ryan looked a little shy as she batted her eyes and asked, "Would you hold me tight? I feel awfully little tonight."
Jamie smiled down at her, then kicked off her shoes and shimmied out of her jeans. She got into bed and propped herself up with some extra pillows. Ryan scooted up until her head rested on her lover’s chest, burrowing her head against Jamie’s breast until she was comfortably denned.
"I feel so close to you, Ryan," Jamie whispered into her ear. "This just feels so intimate."
"I feel that way, too. I never would have guessed that being this sick would make me feel closer to you, but it does. Why do you think that is?"
"Maybe because you’re so weak and vulnerable. It’s hard to say, though. Maybe our roles are a little different when one of us is ill."
"Maybe that’s it. I guess I always feel most intimate when I’m really vulnerable. And I’ve rarely been this vulnerable physically," she admitted. "It just changes how I feel about myself."
"Tell me about that," Jamie encouraged.
Ryan sighed deeply as she furrowed her brow. "I’ve had more injuries than I can count, but they always made sense to me. Ya know what I mean?"
Jamie nodding, thinking she understood.
"But this…this isn’t from a risk I took, or some activity I participated in. This just hit me out of the blue, and it’s really made me feel vulnerable. I mean, if I can catch this virus, what’s to stop me from catching something else, ya know?"
"Well, I guess that’s possible, but you can also look at this as your number just being up. Everybody gets sick once in a while, Babe. This takes care of you for a very long time."
"I hope so, Jamie," she said softly "I think I have an image of myself that’s centered around my physical self. I am what I do. Being active and being outside make me feel connected both to the earth and to other people. Being cooped up in the house, unable to even go outside, just makes me feel odd and unsettled."
"That makes sense, " she said as she continued to stroke her back softly. "I guess I also think of you mostly as a vibrant, active, energetic soul. It’s hard to see you be so weak and frail."
"I know I’d hate to see you this sick," Ryan admitted. "You don’t think you’ll catch it do you?"
"I don’t think so, Baby. There’s a two-day incubation period, so I probably would have gotten sick by Monday or Tuesday."
"Every time I’m lucid I say a prayer for you," she admitted shyly.
"And I’ve been praying for you," Jamie said as she tweaked her nose. "Let’s hope all of our prayers are answered."
Ryan wrapped her arms around her lover a little more tightly and within minutes was sound asleep. Jamie continued to stroke her face and back, remaining just where she was for another hour. It was uncomfortable to be pinned by Ryan’s weight, but she wouldn’t have traded places with anyone. She felt very warm and loving toward her partner and was terribly pleased that they had been able to have a little talk. As much as she missed their physical connection, it was the emotional connection that she needed to get through the day. Having those few minutes of intimate connection made her feel outrageously good and brightened her spirits enough to hope that the next day would bring better news.
As the limo pulled away from the stately, circular drive, Catherine spent a moment gazing at the house she had once loved, finding that the building no longer inspired warm feelings of home and family. With a sigh, she approached the front door, passing her neatly stacked bags in the entry. Well, this should be fun, she mused, noticing Jim’s car in the drive.
She had been gone nearly two and a half weeks, and she had not spoken to her husband in that entire time. She knew from Jamie that Jim knew that she had been the one to tell their daughter of his infidelities, and she knew that fact would make him very angry indeed, irrational as that reaction was.
No more than ten feet into the house, Jim descended on her, sneering evilly as he commented, "Look who’s back! Benedict Arnold has come home to gloat."
Sharing a saccharine laced smile with him, Catherine said, "One would certainly have to have a certain view of the world to feel like the wronged party in your situation. You break every vow that you ever made to me, and I’m supposed to apologize to you?"
"Yes, that’s right…you’re supposed to apologize to me! You couldn’t stand to have Jamie be close to me! You had to try and destroy what we shared!"
Blinking slowly, Catherine gave him a puzzled gaze. "I’m making this suggestion sincerely, Jim. I think you should have some tests run to determine if you have a brain tumor or some other medical condition that would cause this irrational thinking."
"I’m perfectly lucid!" he shouted, seeming everything but.
"Look, Jim," Catherine said. "If I had treated you like you deserved, Jamie and I would have spent the last 15 years
in Italy. Now that would have been my attempt to destroy the closeness you and she once had."
"We’ll have it again before I’m through," he yelled.
"Not at the rate you’re going," she said with all of the empathy she could muster. "You’ll be lucky to get a Christmas card from her." With that, she strode up the stairs to her room, further saddened to see that he had removed all of his possessions from the space.
Ryan was alone in the house on Thursday, her roommates having decided that she was well enough to no longer require a babysitter. When the phone rang at ten o’clock she answered, "Miss me, Sweetness?"
"Why yes, I did, Ryan," Catherine laughed. "Is that what you plan on calling me henceforth?"
"Well, I could," Ryan said, pausing to cough harshly, "but Jamie called dibs." Another cough and Ryan said, "Welcome home, Catherine. We both missed you."
"Are you ill, Ryan? That cough sounds dreadful."
"Yeah. I’ve had the flu," she said. "This is my first day where I can sit up. I’m hoping to make it over to the love seat this afternoon if I can get a good nap in."
"Oh my word! You’re the picture of health!"
"The picture’s pretty grim at this point, Catherine. I’m a shadow of my former self. Luckily my beloved spouse has been a spectacular nurse. Goodness knows where I’d be without her."
"Is she home, Dear? I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed her."
"No, this is her long day. She’s not home until six or so."
"Who’s watching the patient?" Catherine asked. "It’s awfully soon to be on your own."
"I think I’m okay," Ryan decided. "Jamie can’t afford to miss any more school. She’s been here almost constantly all week."
"What will you have for lunch, Ryan? Surely you can’t cook for yourself."
"Jamie handled that, Catherine. I’m looking at a very nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich that she made for me. I just have to get up the strength to eat it."
"Nonsense. You need a hot meal, and I’m going to bring you one. I’ll be there by one, Ryan. Now go back to sleep."
Before Ryan could say another word, Catherine had hung up. Gee, I wonder where Jamie gets her determination? she wondered idly.
When Ryan woke at noon, she used the bathroom and then made her way downstairs. This was her first trip down the long staircase, and she was proud that she managed to travel the entire length without assistance. My, how your goals have shrunk. The long walk exhausted her, and she curled up on the small sofa for a little nap.
When Catherine rang the bell Ryan nearly fell from the sofa, but she collected her wits and made her way to the door. As Catherine took her in, she nearly gasped at the vision that greeted her. Ryan had actually tried to clean up a little, putting on her new pajamas. Regrettably, she was down at least one full size, the pants now so loose that the drawstring was pulled tight to hold them up. Her color was still quite pasty, her eyes a little dull. She hadn’t yet taken a full shower, so her hair was lifeless and dirty, not a trace of bounce or shine in the dark locks.
"Dreadful, huh?" Ryan shrugged, indicating herself.
"No, no, of course not, Dear. You just look like you’ve been through a rough time." She offered a tentative hug, immediately noticing how frail Ryan seemed—almost as if her sturdy muscularity had been surgically removed. "We just have to concentrate on getting some food into you."
"Yeah. Jamie was complaining before I got sick. I lost a good ten pounds this week."
"Well, let’s start here," Catherine said, opening a container filled with a thick, hearty chicken soup with rice and vegetables. "Marta made this when I told her I was going to visit a sick friend," Catherine informed her. "She says that it’s an old family recipe, guaranteed to cure all of your ills."
Ryan’s mouth was watering by the time they had the soup ladled out. She dug in and treated Catherine to a full-blown demonstration of the patented O’Flaherty swoon. Catherine laughed in amusement as she watched Ryan make over the soup in the most delightful way. "I can see why Jamie likes to cook if you give her that type of reaction," she said with a smile.
"This is just awesome, Catherine," she said sincerely. "I love soup, and it seems to settle well on my stomach."
Except for a few coughing fits that were as painful to watch as they were to experience, lunch went very well. Catherine updated her on all of the news from Italy, but since Ryan had no activities of her own to speak of, she told all about Jamie’s golf and her classes. Catherine insisted on clearing the table and, to Ryan’s great surprise, she even washed the dishes. After Ryan directed her to the proper home of every item, she suggested they retire to the parlor.
"I really feel a lot better, Catherine," Ryan said with a happy grin. "A delicious lunch works wonders for me."
"I’m glad you enjoyed it, Ryan. I assume you’ve not been able to play in your volleyball games. Will you be able to rejoin your team soon?"
"I don’t know. We have away games tomorrow and Saturday, and then we’re home on Wednesday. That’s what I’m aiming for."
"Well, you let me know when you are going to play. I’ll be in your cheering section!"
"Thanks, Catherine. That means a lot to me."
"You and Jamie are my family, Ryan. You mean a lot to me."
"Um…speaking of family, are things going all right with Jim? I don’t mean to pry but…"
"You’re not prying at all, Dear. No, things aren’t going well. We’re not speaking. It’s a very, very tense atmosphere at our home."
"I’m very sorry to hear that, Catherine. I know this is hard on you."
"In a way it is, but in another way it’s rather freeing," she said thoughtfully. "We haven’t been emotionally involved for a long while. This is just making that rift a little more defined."
"It’s going to be very hard for Jamie," Ryan said softly.
"I know that, Ryan. I don’t think we’re at the point of divorcing, yet, but it’s going to take a small miracle to keep us together."
"I hope you know that I’ll support you in any way that I can, Catherine."
Catherine gave her a wide smile as she said, "I know that, Ryan, and that means a great deal to me." Getting up to leave, she advised, "Now you take it easy the rest of the week. You can’t afford a relapse."
"I know," she agreed. "I think even Jamie is getting tired of taking care of me."
"I’m sure that isn’t true," Catherine chided as she patted her cheek. "She seems to thrive on a steady diet of you, Ryan."
As soon as Catherine left, Ryan went back upstairs and fell asleep before she had time to let out a deep breath. She stayed in the same position that she fell in, sleeping through to the evening.
The volleyball team was meeting on campus at seven to catch a late flight to Colorado for the weekend games, but before she left Jordan decided to stop by to see how Ryan was doing. Jamie was just finishing with the dinner preparations and, as usual, she invited Jordan to join them.
"Oh God, Jamie, you feed me so often I really feel like I’m taking advantage of you," she said, dropping her gym bag and letting her nose lead her into the kitchen.
"Is that a yes?" Jamie teased as she basted the chicken she was roasting.
"Do you have enough?" Jordan asked hesitantly. "One chicken doesn’t hold up well to Ryan’s appetite."
"It does now," she said regretfully. "Her appetite is way below normal. She’ll eat the dressing I made, but she’ll hardly make a dent in the chicken. We really do have enough, Jordan, and I’d like for you to stay. Her mood has really been down, and I’d appreciate it if you could help me cheer her up."
"Where is she, anyway?"
"She’s in bed. She was out cold when I got home, and I haven’t heard a peep out of her since I got home an hour ago."
Just then Ryan came shuffling into the kitchen. She honestly looked like hell, and Jordan actually gasped a bit when she saw her. She wore a navy blue T-shirt that was probably too big at her normal weight, but now it hung loosel
y from her shoulders and accentuated her weight loss. The thin, black watch plaid, flannel pajama bottoms that she wore made a more forceful statement, however. Even though the drawstring waist was cinched as tight as it would go, the pants hung so low on her hips that Jamie knew they were less than a couple of inches from revealing her dark curls. Running a hand through her hair she yanked up her pants with the other hand and said flatly, "Hey, Jordan." She walked over to Jamie and gave her a brief hug before she flopped down heavily into one of the kitchen chairs. "What’s going on?" she asked, even though it was clear that she didn’t care.
Jordan still looked too shocked to speak, but she shook her head to force herself. "I’ve got something for you," she said as she scampered from the room to lug her gym bag into the kitchen. She produced two cards and a reasonably intact bouquet of flowers for her friend.
Ryan looked up at her with a small smile and asked, "For me?"
"Yeah," Jordan said as she sat in a facing chair. She placed her hand on Ryan’s knee and said, "We miss you, Ryan. It’s just not much fun without you. I don’t have anyone to harass."
Ryan reached out and ruffled her hair as she sat back to open her cards. She chuckled at both and handed them to Jamie who took them and the flowers and arranged them on the table.
Dinner was just about ready, and Jordan hopped up to set the table and help bring the food over. True to Jamie’s prediction, Ryan picked at the chicken but ate a reasonable amount of dressing, broccoli, and butternut squash. Jordan more than made up for Ryan’s diminished appetite, and the entire meal quickly disappeared.
Ryan didn’t even try to get up to help, satisfied to watch her friend aid in the cleanup. "So, give me the story behind the first game," she finally demanded.
Jordan had avoided this topic since she knew it would only serve to depress her friend, but she couldn’t avoid a direct question so she gave her the scoop. "Well, Hawaii is a powerhouse as usual. They kicked our butts, but it was well deserved. Their middle blockers are just awesome, Ryan. They’re clearly in a class above us."
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