Devlin's Grace (16 page)

An ominous gurgle issued from his
abdomen and Devlin’s face contorted. “I think I’d better head for the
bathroom,” he said and did.

The unmistakable sounds of
diarrhea came from behind the closed door and when he came out, Devlin’s pallor
had become even whiter.
 
He walked
hunched over like his belly hurt.

“How do you feel?”

“Bad,” he said, spitting out the
one terse word. Then he added, “I feel like I’m going to puke, my stomach’s
cramping, and my head’s pounding.
 
I have
to sit down.”

Devlin collapsed onto the bed
with a heavy sigh and put his head down.
 
Gracie parked beside him, one arm around his waist.
 
He seemed like he could use the support as
well as comfort.
 
“You probably need to
lie down,” she suggested.

His body constricted beneath her
arm. “I would,” Dev said as he jumped up and headed toward the restroom. “Or I
would if I could just quit barfing long enough.”

He landed on his knees before the
commode and heaved.
 
Gracie trailed him,
concerned he might pass out on the bathroom floor.
 
He vomited clear liquid streaked with
bile.
 
Devlin sagged against the seat
when he finished, and she offered him a fresh wet cloth for clean-up.

“Thanks,” he gasped, eyes
streaming.

“Maybe I should run out and pick
up something to settle your stomach,” Gracie said.

Tough guy and all, Devlin cut his
eyes up and shook his head. “Don’t go.
 
I
don’t want you to leave me, Gracie.”

His plea jerked her heartstrings
and tied them into a knot. “I’d be right back,” she said, torn between getting
what he needed and staying beside him.

“Uh-uh,” Devlin said.

Gracie caved. “All right, but
come see if you can rest for a few minutes, anyway.”

Curled into a pretzel like shape
on the bed, Devlin drifted into an uneasy doze.
 
Gracie paced the apartment and searched without success for any kind of
stomach aid.
 
Her mind compiled a short
list of the things she’d buy if she left.
  
Devlin defined loner, so he didn’t have any friends to call on for
help.
 
The few guys he kept in contact
with were people he served with in Iraq, more comrades than pals.
 
Gracie’s friends scattered like dandelion
seeds over her college years until she didn’t keep up with any of them.
 
Her besties from high school had married,
several had children.
 
She didn’t
consider any of her co-workers as friends.
 
Faith, her sister, lived in Joplin, an hour or more away and was old
enough to be a parent, not a pal.
 
About
the time Gracie decided neither she nor Devlin had any to ask for assistance,
she thought of Lauren.

Dev’s cousin had become about the
only friend she had and without hesitation Gracie grabbed her cell phone.
 
She sat down at the kitchen table and called
Lauren.

“Hello,” Lauren said. “You caught
me on break.
 
What’s up?”

“I need a favor,” Gracie said.

“Sure, what is it?” From her
casual tone, Lauren probably expected her to ask if she could re-check a book,
find a research material, or loan her five bucks.
 
With no easy way to say it, Gracie said,
“Devlin’s sick and he doesn’t want me to go anywhere.
 
Could you get a few things for me and drop
them off? I’d pay for them.”

Concern put an edge in Lauren’s
voice. “What’s wrong? Devlin hardly ever gets sick.”

“I think its food poisoning,”
Gracie said. “I made him some tuna salad, but the egg or the mayo or something
must’ve been off.
 
He’s vomiting and now
he’s got diarrhea, too.
 
He’s wearing
himself out and needs to rest, but he doesn’t want me to leave.
 
I hate to ask, but I didn’t know who else to
call.”

“Oh, I’m glad you called,” Lauren
replied. “Sure, I’ll be glad to do it. He’s family and God knows we don’t have
as much as we did.
 
I’ll be over in a
little while – does he still live on the corner of Summit Avenue?”

“Yes,” Gracie said. “Thank you,
Lauren.”

She provided a list of items and
ended the call, reassured she didn’t have to deal with Dev’s unexpected illness
alone.
 
Before she could check on him, Gracie
heard him in the bathroom again. Minutes later, he appeared in the kitchen
doorway, leaning against the wall, spent.

“Jesus,” he said. “I can’t take
much more of this.”

Gracie moved to stand in front of
Devlin.
 
Her hand touched his cheek,
light and fleeting.
 
In response, he
wrapped his arms around her and held her.
 
She embraced him, aware of the faint odor of bitter vomit wafting from
him.
 
“I wish you felt better,” she said.
“You will, soon, I hope.”

“Yeah, me too,” Devlin said. “Or
be put out of my misery.”

When Lauren showed up, Devlin was
sprawled in the rump sprung, worn old recliner in the living room.
 
Sitting half upright worked better, it
seemed, or else his nausea settled to a more tolerable level.
 

Gracie, curled into the corner of
the couch next to his chair, thought he still looked ghastly, pale as a vampire
in daylight.
 
Lauren rapped at the door
and Devlin startled.

“Who the hell’s that?” he asked.

“Lauren,” Gracie said, hoping he
wouldn’t explode. “I asked her to bring a few things over.”

Although he grimaced, he didn’t
gripe.
 
Gracie let his cousin in and took
the multiple bags out of her hands. “Thank you,” she said. “Let me go sort the
stuff out.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Lauren said.
She headed over toward Devlin. “Hi, you look like death warmed over.
 
I hope you don’t feel as bad as you look.”

“Worse,” he said, his tone
harsh.
 
Gracie watched from the kitchen
but when he extended one hand to his cousin, she relaxed.
 
“Thanks, Lauren.”

“I’m glad to help.
 
And I’m sorry you don’t feel well.
 
I hope you’re better soon.”

Devlin nodded.
 
“No shit.”

Gracie sorted out the items on
the kitchen table, some pink liquid to settle Devlin’s upset stomach, clear and
dark colas, a box of tea bags, some pre-made gelatin in single serving
containers, a bag of red and white striped peppermints, a cardboard carton of
chicken broth, three cans of soup, and a box of saltines.
 
Lauren delivered everything she requested
plus a few additions.
 
With her purse in
hand she headed into the living room to pay the other woman, but Lauren refused
to take any money.

“No, no,
its
fine,” she told Gracie. “I’m glad to help.
 
I won’t stay so Robert can get some rest, but I wanted to ask him
something.”

“Go ahead,” Devlin replied.
 
Either he felt too sick to care or didn’t
notice, but he didn’t protest her use of his first name.

“Mom wanted me to tell you you’re
invited for Thanksgiving next week,” Lauren said.
 
“She’d love it if you’d come and bring
Gracie.”

Emotion rippled across Devlin’s
haggard face.
 
“Thanks, cousin,” he said,
“I’d think about it, but I’m going home with Gracie, to her parents.
 
But I might come some other time.”

Surprise increased the size of
Lauren’s eyes and she stared at him, as rounded eyed as an owl. “Well,” she
said. “I’ll tell Mama.
 
I imagine she’ll
ask you again.
 
Get better, you hear?”

He nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

Gracie’s heart fluttered with
excitement.
 
Devlin never mentioned he’d
decided to go home with her for Thanksgiving, but his decision made her
glad.
 
Now she’d have to tell her parents
to expect another guest.
 
As Lauren let
herself out, Gracie daydreamed about a family meal at the old round table, her
parents, her sister and all Faith’s family, herself and Devlin.

“Did you mean it?” she asked
after Lauren drove away. “Are you coming home with me for Thanksgiving?”

A faint grin flickered over his
lips. “Yeah, I am unless you don’t want me to come.”

“I do, Devlin, very much.”

“Then I’m coming,” he said. “Just
make sure your family’s ready to meet the devil himself.”

Laughter bubbled up within. “Oh,
they will be,” Gracie said. “You just concentrate on getting better.”

Devlin almost laughed, but his
expression shifted and he put a hand to his belly. “I will,” he said with a
grumble. “Or I would if I could quit puking long enough to try.”

He retched into the wastebasket,
but didn’t bring up much.
 
Afterward,
Gracie plied him with peppermints, made him the cup of tea he asked for, and
dosed him with the stomach remedy.
 
Devlin puked it back up, but he kept down the second cup of tea.
 
He suffered several more rounds of diarrhea,
but by early evening, his tortured digestive system seemed to settle down.

By then, so exhausted Devlin
drifted in and out of sleep, Gracie coaxed him to rest in bed.
 
He sprawled on his back and she plumped up
pillows beneath his head.
 
His skin
remained clammy so she covered him. She hadn’t eaten since coming home, so Gracie
slipped into the kitchen to heat a microwave entrée.
 
She ate the small meal and hoped the aroma
wouldn’t linger to bother Devlin.

On Friday, Devlin called in sick,
exhausted and still vomiting a little.
 
He’d yet to hold down anything solid and remained more than a little
shaky.
 
Gracie skipped classes, a rare
thing she seldom did, to stay home with him.
 
He admitted he felt a little better, but his stomach still hurt and his
headache remained.
 
Until he could keep
down food, she doubted he could handle pain relievers without puking.
 
As an alternative, Gracie wrapped some ice in
a towel and he applied it to his aching head.

“It helps, some,” Devlin said.

“Good.
 
Do you want to try some Jell-O?”

“What color?”

“Orange or
red.”

“I’ll try orange.”

He managed it,
then
asked for another cup of hot tea.
 
Devlin
sat in his recliner with the cup cradled between his hands and sighed.
 
He sounded happy despite his illness, so she
asked, “Better?”

Devlin see-sawed his hand and
nodded. “I don’t feel as bad as I did yesterday,” he said. “Damnedest thing is
,
I’m happy.
 
I like
the time with you even when I’ve been sick. You make me happy, babe.”

Gracie sank down to the floor to
sit at his feet.
 
She gazed up at him
with adoring eyes and said, “I try, Devlin.
 
You don’t look as awful as you did.
 
I worried about you yesterday.”

He snorted. “You shouldn’t.
 
I’ve been through a helluva lot worse.”

“I wasn’t around, then.”

He exhaled a long sigh.
 
“Wish you had been, Gracie.”

In response, she laid her head
across his knees.
 
Devlin stroked her
hair, his big hand clumsy but gentle.
 
Gracie savored the quiet moment, the halcyon respite from everything else.
 
Right now she didn’t care about her classes
or the weather or anything but the present, here with Devlin.

“You know what,” he said,
vulnerable for once.

“What?”

“I need you, babe.
 
I wouldn’t want to go it without you.”

His words enriched her and
strengthened her.
 
Devlin’s tenderness
evoked a warm outpouring of emotion.
 
Love floated in the air, almost visible between them and Gracie sat up.

“You won’t ever have to,” she said,
grasping his hand in hers.

“Just don’t let me drag you down
to hell,” he said, serious now.
 
His eyes
burned with fire, not passion. “Don’t forget I’ve been called Devil all my
life.”

Until now he’d never admitted the
nickname dated farther back than his Marine years and Gracie marked it.

“Anyone who said you were was
wrong,” she said.
“Mixed up, crazy, confused, but totally
wrong.
 
Besides, it doesn’t matter
now anyway.”