Heroes In Uniform (157 page)

“I’ll bring him right in and – ”

“Whoa, there. That’s not a good idea. This clinic is teeming with kid germs. Not only the second grade, but the kindergartners. Some virus is going through them like a hot knife through butter. This is the last place you want your colonel. Way I see it is you can take him up the hospital in Billings – ”

“The hospital!”

Grif roused himself enough to say sternly, “No hospital.”

“ – or you can take him to the base. But they’re not any better than here, since those kids have the same stuff. Or – ”

“I’ll go. BOQ. My room.” Grif leaned forward as if to rise.

“Stay still.” She pushed on his shoulder, and he fell back against the cushions like a rag doll. “Doc, he’s so weak ... Are you sure I shouldn’t bring him in – ”

“Not unless you want to load another disease on this one while his immune system’s kerflooey. He’s better off there, as long as you can keep an eye on him. He shouldn’t be alone, and he sure as hell shouldn’t be driving with that kind of a fever. You’d better keep him at your house.”

“My house! But how can I – ”

“Best place for him. Make sure he gets plenty of rest. Drinks lots of fluids – especially water. Keep an eye on that temperature If it goes up, call me back. I’ll write a prescription for antibiotics. Allergies to any medicines?”

His impatient interruption hadn’t answered her objection, but even if he’d let her finish, Doc wouldn’t have had a solution to the concerns swirling through her mind.

She relayed the question to Grif, and his answer to Doc.

“No, but – ”

“The prescription will be waiting for someone to pick up at the Market. But don’t leave him alone – get someone else to pick it up. Watch that temperature! If it doesn’t start dropping, call and do what you’d do for the kids.”

With that he was gone. Leaving her to contemplate giving Grif a cool bath the way she did for the kids if their temperature shot up.

“Oh, Lordy.” The whisper did little to block out the image, but it did remind her of her immediate problem.

Having Grif here. No, there had to be another solution.

Of course! The home ranch.

After three rings, Marti answered, sounding weary – Emily had the virus, which was making the rounds of the babysitting co-op as well as the kindergarten. Matthew had also been exposed and Kendra wouldn’t know for a couple days if he was contagious, too.

But at least the call solved one problem.

“Fran’s bringing out medicine and other supplies about two, so call and ask her to pick up Grif’s prescription,” Marti suggested.

With a fatalistic sigh, Ellyn did.

“Might as well pick up clothes for the kids while I’m there, and I’ll have ‘em stay with me here in town for a few days,” Fran said. “You wouldn’t want to risk exposing them all over again to this bug.”

It sounded so negligent to even consider having the kids stay home when they had a place to stay with Fran that Ellyn couldn’t think of a good argument that didn’t involve admitting she was wary of being alone with a man – this man – even this sick.

After hanging up the phone in the kitchen, she returned to the living room to find Grif with his head back and his eyes closed. But not ready to admit defeat.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll get out of here, Ellyn.”

“You’re in no condition to drive.”

“I’m fine. I’ll go to my quarters. Stay in bed.”

“Doc said you shouldn’t be alone. Somebody’s got to watch your temperature, take care of you.

“I’m not going to stay here – ”

“Oh, yes, you are.” Funny, the more he argued, the more determined she was that he wasn’t getting out of her sight. “I thought Marti could ... but Emily is sick, too. Doc Boyd said staying here was best, and that’s what you’re going to do.”

Only, where was he going to stay?

She pushed her hair back with both hands. Meg’s bed was barely big enough for her. Grif would be miserable. Ben’s room ... she closed her eyes as she considered the state that reigned within those four walls. The guest room had no furniture. That left the couch, which wasn’t long enough for him, besides being decidedly lumpy. Or her bed.

“C’mon, Grif.” Before she could consider the ramifications, she took him by the hand and tugged. He stood without needing much help from her, but he weaved a bit with his first steps. She wedged her shoulder under his arm, and draped it around her, then looped her arm across his back, grabbing a fistful of waistband at the far side so she’d have a good hold if he started to go down.

“Ellyn, this isn’t – ”

“Hush. And keep walking.”

He said nothing more as they negotiated the living room, hallway and into her bedroom.

She eased him down to the side of the bed. He sat there, his eyes opened, but not focused. His skin flushed. If she asked him if he needed help undressing, he’d deny it if he had to use his last breath.

She scooched down and pulled off his shoes and socks, then straightened. Telling herself this was no different from dealing with Ben, she started unbuttoning his shirt.

Her fingers brushed the bare, heated skin of his chest below the shirt, reminding her of his illness, and keeping her mind on the straight and narrow. At least until she tugged the shirt tail out of the waistband of his chinos and felt a new warmth in the material there. Firmly putting aside thoughts of where that particular warmth came from, she pulled the shirt off in an awkward attempt to touch him as little as possible.

Not letting herself think, she reached for the waistband tab of his chinos, and unbuttoned it.

Grif jolted like a sleepwalker awakened from a trance.

“Don’t. I’ll ... do it.”

She relinquished the task – gladly, of course. Feeling only relief.

He levered himself up from the bed, and she busied herself with pulling down the covers and plumping the pillow on that side.

When she turned around from placing his shirt on a hanger, she found him with his back to her, thumbs hooked in the waistband of his pants, slowly drawing the material down. Only, the deepening view of the bare flesh of his lower back and then the top of his butt, revealed he’d hooked more than his pants.

“Stop!” He did. And remained still. “Grif, you can’t ... I, uh, I think you’ll be more, uh, comfortable if you leave your ... your shorts on.”

He dropped his head forward, as if checking out her assessment. She heard him mumble a few words, a curse by their tone. Then his hands shifted, and the tops of white boxer shorts appeared as he kept pushing the pants down.

She started breathing again, realizing only then that she’d stopped.

He tried to pull the pants free, and sat hard on the bed, instead. She finished the task, then gave his shoulder a gentle push to get him to lie flat.

“Ellyn?”

“Yes, Grif?”

“I don’t feel good.”

“I know you don’t, Grif.” She pulled the sheet and light blanket up over him until they rested under his chin, but left the comforter off. “Get some sleep and you’ll feel better soon.”

He put his hands over the top edge of the sheet as if he might push it away, then subsided.

His voice wasn’t much more than a raw whisper as he added, “All the times I dreamed about being in your bed ... this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

* * *

He hadn’t wanted anything covering him, but his nose had caught the faint trace of Ellyn’s warm spiciness on the sheet, and he’d let it stay.

And then he’d told her the truth. For the first time in a long, long time, he’d told her the full truth.

He turned his face into the pillow that smelled like Ellyn’s hair, and let the dreams come.

* * *

“How’s the patient?”

Ellyn took the pharmacy bag from Fran. “Asleep. I almost hate to wake him to give him the pills.”

“Sometimes sleep’s even better for folks than medicine.”

“I don’t know.” Ellyn heard her own doubt. “I think he might have been delirious.”

Fran gave her a sharp look. “Delirious? What did he say.”

“Oh, nothing, really. Nothing. He was just so weak.”

“I see.”

Ellyn sincerely hoped not. Grif’s words had stunned Ellyn, but not nearly as much as the sensation that followed them, like a starburst in her chest.

She’d forced herself out of the room, keeping occupied by packing necessities for Meg and Ben to stay at Fran’s. Twice she’d ventured to the doorway of her room to check on Grif.

“I’d better get going if I’m going to pick up the kids from school,” Fran announced.

“Have them call me when they get to your house, will you? So I can explain ... Not that they ever mind staying with you.” She raised one brow. “I’d almost suspect you did things like let them eat dessert without having their vegetables and staying up late.”

“Me? I’m as strict as can be.”

“If you say so.” Ellyn laughed as she gave the other woman a hug. “Thanks for everything.”

* * *

Grif was still sleeping when she took the pills and a glass of water into the room.

She sat on the battered side chair she’d pulled up, oddly hesitant to wake him.

Without reason, she told herself. His words before he fell asleep had been the product of his illness. Good heavens, with a temperature of a hundred and four, he could be babbling nonstop.

Although ... Could she have been wrong to dismiss that kiss by the school? Could he have meant to kiss her that way?
Wanted
to kiss her that way?

She looked at his face, strong and so familiar. And yet ... different. She studied him, searching for the difference. And then she had it.

With his eyes closed, he looked less like himself and more like his stern father. The father he regarded with too much coldness to truly be indifference. As little as Grif usually let show in his eyes they still gave such a sense of
him
.

She laid her palm across his forehead, smoothing back the ends of the thick hair she’d so rarely seen this long.

She started to pull her hand away, but Grif gripped her wrist and held it there.

His eyes opened slowly. Still glazed, but aimed directly at her face. She turned away, using the shaking out of the pill from the plastic bottle as her excuse.

“I have your medicine here. Can you sit up?”

He gave her a look that should have been withering, but didn’t pack half its usual wallop. He levered himself up on one elbow and took the pill, then reached for the glass of water. Once again he drank it all.

She put the glass back on the bedside table, pretending she didn’t hear his sigh as he sank back.

“Stay.”

No plea, but not enough power to be a command. She made her answer carefully neutral. “Okay.”

She sat beside the bed, one hand resting on its edge. After a minute, he pulled his nearest arm from under the covers and laid it down on top of them. His hand was less than an inch from hers as he closed his eyes again.

The first half hour he was restless, seeming to sleep in short snatches that would end with his eyes jerking open. He’d see her sitting there, and soon his eyes would close again, only to repeat the cycle.

Finally the medicine took effect, and he slept peacefully. Ellyn remained for another hour.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, Grif’s temperature had dropped to a hundred and one. He was starting to sleep more naturally. But he continued to sleep more than he was awake, as his body battled both the effects of the fever and the disease itself.

Ellyn had been reluctant to stray far. She called into work, explaining the situation and warned Larry she might have to take a few days off. In between checking on Grif, giving him his medicine and helping him twice to the bathroom – then having the door closed firmly in her face – she made soup. Overnight she slept on the couch.

The next afternoon, in a spurt of domesticity, she made two batches of lasagna and some spaghetti sauce for the freezer. Fran arrived as she was cleaning up and putting together a supper tray for Grif.

“I dropped the kids off at the home ranch. They’re going to ride with Luke while he checks the heifers that haven’t calved yet. Emily’s bouncing back. How’s your patient today?”

Ellyn filled her in, including his habit of trying to get to the bathroom on his own, stubbornly refusing to admit his legs felt like rubber.

“Smells great in here,” Fran said. “That should help give Grif a good appetite.”

“I had trouble getting soup in him, much less anything else. This is for the family – for me and the kids.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It
is
. I make things ahead so we’ll have them.” What was she doing, explaining? Fran knew all this. “What brought you here today, Fran?”

“I brought some of Grif’s things.” She placed a familiar-looking duffel bag on the floor.

“You went to Fort Piney? And they let you into his quarters?”

“That soldier thought he might want to go citing regulations all over the place, but we got that straightened out. Grif needs clean clothes, and other things. But I couldn’t find that boy’s pajamas anywhere.”

Ellyn swallowed at the thought of what
that boy
was wearing – and not wearing right now.

“Ellyn? Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine. A little preoccupied.”

“Make sure you’re getting enough rest. Takes a lot out of you taking care of somebody who’s sick, Running back and forth, toting and fetching, giving ‘em medicine, and with a fever like this, the sponge baths. You know how much easier the kids rest after one.”

Sponge bath
?

She caught a definite glint in Fran’s eyes, and directed the conversation in another direction.

After Fran left, Ellyn took the duffel bag to her room.

Grif was awake, and looked decidedly rumpled, and possibly cranky. Beard stubble was in full bloom on his jaw and cheeks. His hair had lost its tame constraint and fell down over one eye. He looked both younger and rougher. Not at all like himself and yet in some strange way more like himself than he had since he was a boy.

He ate both the soup and chicken sandwich with hungry concentration, leaving any talking until after he’d finished.