One Prayer Away (14 page)

C
hris turned over in his bed, once again awakened by the combination of his own coughing, the chills that the continuous sweating brought on, and a recurring bad headache that he blamed on the fever that just wouldn't break. He'd draped himself with extra covers earlier because he was cold, but now he was so hot that it felt as though he'd set his thermostat on high. Tossing the heavy linen aside and forcing his aching body from the mattress, Chris rubbed his hand across his forehead and wiped away beads of perspiration.

The dream he'd been having was trapped in a fog in his mind. Chris tried to recall it clearly but couldn't. He knew it had something to do with his wedding, though. Lisa was in the dream and so was he. But just as they were proclaimed man and wife, something would happen to mess up an otherwise flawless wedding day.

“No time for getting cold feet, Christopher,” he told himself with a laugh. His sister had warned him that he'd start getting wedding jitters as the date came closer. Ursula
said that it happened to all men. Chris had disputed her, but now he was beginning to believe it was true.

“I sure hope I didn't give this to you, Barbara,” he said, changing his thoughts as he struggled to stand and maintain his balance.

At the advice of Rev. Inman, who had stopped by earlier in the morning to pray for him, Chris had gone to the doctor, chauffeured by his pastor. Just as Chris suspected but hoped wasn't accurate, he had the flu. The doctor called it an “acute respiratory infection,” but he'd had the flu enough times to know what it felt like.

After leaving the doctor's office, Rev. Inman had been kind enough to take Chris to the drugstore to get his prescription filled. Taking the large, hard-to-swallow pills was supposed to make him feel better, but quite honestly, Chris felt worse now than he had before he'd crawled into bed for his afternoon nap. The label called for him to take the medicine with food, but juice was the best he could do. He had no appetite for solid foods, and the uneasy feeling in his stomach at the time told him that solid food probably wasn't the best idea.

The current rumbling in his stomach, though, was a clear cry for a meal, but Chris didn't have the energy to make his way to the kitchen. It took all the strength he had just to walk to the hallway to adjust his thermostat. Rev. Inman had placed an extra glass of orange juice by his bed earlier. That would have to suffice until his fiancée came by later to check on him.

“Thank God for Lisa.”

Chris mumbled the words while he leaned against the wall of the hallway for added support. The short walk had sapped him of nearly all of his strength, and he needed a moment to rest before making the short return trip. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so ill. If he'd passed what he had on to Barbara, it would be next week before she could return to work.

Barbara was more than a dedicated employee. As the secretary that Willie James Jackson Jr. had hired when he first started the business twenty-eight years ago, she was a fixture at Jackson, Jackson & Andrews. Barbara hated missing work. As a sixty-year-old widow who lived alone, the job was proof of her independence and her worth. Chris knew that he'd have to insist that she take another day away from the office, but he had no problems doing so. He'd promised his father two things: that he'd take care of his mother and sister and that he'd treat Barbara well for all of her years of service.

When Chris had called Lisa early this morning to tell her of his condition and ask her to sacrifice one of her vacation days to fill in for Barbara, he had expected her to be hesitant. He'd even prepared himself for the small possibility of her saying no. He would have been disappointed, but he wouldn't have blamed her for declining. It wasn't often that she took days in succession away from her job. Chris was glad that she didn't refuse his plea. It spoke volumes to him that she'd be so willing to help him in his time of need.

She's so good for me,
he thought as he slowly started back toward his bedroom. Catching a glimpse of the glowing numbers on the clock that sat on his nightstand, Chris noticed that he'd slept most of the afternoon away. It was later than he'd initially thought. Lisa would be here any moment. Just the thought of it seemed to ease the queasiness in his stomach. Help was on the way, and it was coming in the form of his future bride.

When Chris had last called the office to check on everything, Lisa told him that she'd fill in until Friday, if necessary. He'd told her that one day should be sufficient; but now, not knowing if he'd passed the fullness of his viral infection on to Barbara, Chris wasn't sure that he wouldn't have to call Lisa back. For certain,
he
wouldn't be back in the office before Friday, and he could only imagine that
the same would go for Barbara. Even if she didn't get as sick as he was, he'd insist that she take at least one more day to fully recuperate.

While he took small swallows of the orange juice, Chris's desire for food seemed to heighten. He hadn't had an appetite all day, but suddenly hunger was getting the best of him. The sips turned into gulps, quenching his dry throat but burning it in the places that had become raw from consistent fits of coughing. It didn't take long for Chris to realize that drinking the citrus drink on a nearly empty stomach wasn't the best decision. Tight knots formed in his stomach, or at least that was what it felt like. One moment it felt as though he would vomit, and the next there was only an excruciating pain that he could only imagine to be comparable to the pains of a woman giving birth or the passing of a kidney stone—whichever was worse. He was in a kneeling position beside the bed when his house alarm beeped, signifying that someone had entered.

Chris hoped that it was Lisa, but at this point, he'd settle for a burglar. As long as the intruder would spare his life, Chris wouldn't care if he robbed him of all of his possessions. All he'd ask is that the thief would leave the bed and help him get back in it. The rest of his belongings were of no current value to him.

“Christopher? Sweetie, are you all right? What are you doing on the floor?”

A moan was the only response that Chris could muster as Lisa rushed to his side. He wanted to tell her not to get too close, but he found that he didn't have to. She'd already taken the precautions of wearing a mask and gloves. Her position in the administrative department of a local children's clinic had trained her well for situations such as this.

“Why didn't you call me?” Lisa asked through grunts as she helped him from the floor to the bed. “You're burning up, Chris,” she added, after placing the back of her hand against his forehead. “Did you take your meds?”

“Yeah, babe,” he managed to say as he lay back on the pillow and exhaled through the pain.

“Is it time to take it again?”

Chris watched as Lisa picked up the bottle from the table beside him and read the label. He knew exactly what her next question would be, and while he was saying it in his thoughts, she was voicing it out loud.

“Sweetie, did you take this on an empty stomach?”

With the juice that he drank earlier, his stomach hadn't been completely empty when he took his morning dosage, but Chris had no time to respond.

“That's why you're on the floor,” Lisa concluded. “It's time to take it again, but not before I get some food in you. I'm going to microwave some of that canned chicken noodle soup that you have in the kitchen and let you eat that before taking any more medicine. Don't you go anywhere. I'll be right back.”

Don't go anywhere?
If Chris had had enough strength, he would have laughed at the thought. Moving from his bed was something that he couldn't do even if he wanted to. It was all he could do just to reposition himself on the mattress so that he would be more comfortable. Beads of sweat surfaced on Chris's skin as another wave of coughing made its round. The chills that he'd felt earlier in the day had returned, prompting him to once again cover himself with the blanket he'd tossed aside earlier. In addition, his lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with him.

“I noticed that you have tomato soup in the cabinet too,” Lisa said as she stepped in the open doorway of his bedroom, disturbing the onset of sleep. “You want me to mix some of that in with your chicken noodle?”

Chris looked toward her and offered a weak smile. “Come here,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Come here,” he repeated.

Lisa took a few steps in the direction of his bed and
then stopped long enough to cover her nose and mouth with her mask. The combination of the mask and gloves made her look like an OR nurse who was preparing to help a doctor perform some important surgical procedure. Even with most of her face covered, with the exception of her eyes, Chris thought Lisa was beautiful. Her eyes, pecan brown, were perhaps her strongest feature.

“Come here,” Chris said for the third time while reaching one arm upward.

Understanding what he wanted, Lisa set the two soup cans on the table beside his bed and bent down to deliver the kiss that Chris beckoned for. The fabric of the mask prevented their lips from touching, but Chris was almost sure that he could taste hers just the same.

“Thanks for coming, babe,” he said after releasing her.

“Where else would I be?” Lisa asked. She kept her face close to his and stroked his cheek with her gloved hand. “You're sick, Christopher. Those vows say in sickness or in health, don't they? I guess I might as well get an idea now of what you're like when you're not feeling well. There are gonna be days like this, you know. You'd do it for me, wouldn't you?”

When she was this close to him, Lisa made Chris's heart beat at twice its normal rate. He was already weak from the effects of the flu and lack of nourishment, but Chris felt the little strength he had left dissolve beneath the gentle touch of Lisa's hand. He closed his eyes and relished the thought that only a few weeks remained before he would be with her in every way.

“I'd do anything for you,” Chris whispered.

He opened his eyes as he felt her pulling away. She stood for a moment, and even though the mask continued to hide much of her face from Chris, he could tell from her eyes that she was smiling. He watched as she reached beside the bed and retrieved the cans that she'd placed there earlier.

“Give me a few minutes,” she said as she began backing away. “I'm going to make you all better.”

Analyzing that this was as good a time as any to ask the favor, Chris spoke. “Babe?”

“Yes?”

“About tomorrow,” he mumbled. “I think I might need you to fill in for Barbara again. I'm sorry. If I could make it in, I wouldn't worry about it. Together, Mitch and I could hold down the place without much of a problem. But with only him there . . .”

“It's okay, Chris,” she assured him. “I'll do it.”

“You sure? I hate asking you to do this. I know this isn't how you planned to spend your vacation. I can contact the temp agency and have them send someone over if necessary.”

Lisa pulled the mask from her face, allowing Chris to capture the fullness of her smile. Seeing it helped to lessen Chris's doubts about her genuine willingness to return to Jackson, Jackson & Andrews. “I said I'll do it,” she reiterated. “There's no need to call the temp agency. Mitch and I work well together.”

Chris grinned. “I told him not to work you too hard. He didn't, did he?”

“He didn't work me hard enough,” Lisa said with a laugh. “Maybe you're the reason why he never had anything for me to do all day except answer the telephone. I knew there was more that I could be doing.”

“A lot more,” Chris agreed. “When I call him this evening, I'll tell him to let you help with those files that are stacked on the floors of both our offices. We were working on a purge project before those end-of-the-year orders started rushing in. You can start in my office, and if you get finished early, you can start on the ones in his.”

“Good,” Lisa said in a satisfied tone. “I'm glad you're getting the extra rest. Maybe if you sleep in late tomorrow you'll be well enough to make it to our last session with Rev. Inman. What do you think?”

“Let's hope so,” Chris said as he watched her disappear through the doorway.

He fully relaxed his back against the mattress when he heard the clatter of pots in the kitchen. Lisa had worked at the clinic for nearly six years, and she loved working with the medical staff there. For the past several weeks, Chris had been trying to find a way to approach her about coming to work for him once they were married. He couldn't imagine a better-case scenario than one that would have them spending both their days and their nights together. At first he thought that getting her to change employers would be a difficult sell. But with the way she'd been so open to the idea of working at the accounting firm during her vacation, Chris found new confidence that his future bride would consider his suggestion that she play an active role in the business that his father had left for him to carry on.

Turning over in the bed, Chris picked up his cell phone. He always kept it on the pillow beside him when he was in bed. Mitchell would be happy to know that he wouldn't have to carry out business alone tomorrow. And it would encourage him even more to know that Lisa was willing to fill in again and that she would be helping to get the file project complete.

Getting Mitchell's voice mail wasn't standard for this time of the afternoon. Generally, he kept his cell with him, and most days Mitchell went straight home from the office. The only exceptions were the days when work had been more stressful than normal. On those rare occasions, Mitchell would detour from his regular route home and stop on Preston Road to put his membership to LA Fitness Center to use. He said a good one-hour run on the treadmill did wonders for clearing his head and relieving the stress of the workday.