Page 96 of Never Fall Again
Eliza pointed to the small bathroom door. “She can’t get up.”
Panic crept through every inch of his skin.
“She told me to go back to bed, but...”
Some of the panic faded. If Landry was talking, that was a good sign. He set Eliza on the sofa and wiped the tears from her face. “It’s going to be okay. You did good. Sit here while I check on your mom.” He turned to Maisy and patted the sofa. “Maisy. Stay.”
Eliza sniffled and nodded. Maisy hopped up beside her and rested her head on Eliza’s legs. He grabbed a throw blanket from a basket and tucked it around them both. Then he called out, “Landry? I’m coming in.”
He pushed the bathroom door open. Landry was slumped against the wall. Her skin was pale, her eyes were bright, and her hand trembled when she held it out toward him. “Go away. I don’t need—” She didn’t get the rest of her sentence out before she scrambled to her knees and bent over the toilet. Cal walked behind her, sat on the edge of the tub, and pulled her hair away from her face. Then he held it with one hand and rubbed her back with the other until she was able to reach out and flush the toilet.
Her skin blazed beneath her pajamas.
He hopped up and took a washcloth from the small shelf on the wall and wet it in the sink. When he handed it to Landry, she took it with a sigh.
“Thank you.” She wiped her face and resumed her earlier position against the wall. “How’d you get in?” A tremor shook her body, and she put a hand to her throat.
“Eliza came to my place. She’s worried about you.”
Landry looked at the door. “Where is she?”
“In the living room. Let me get her so she can see you’re alive. Then I’ll get her back into bed.”
He leaned into the small hallway and motioned for Eliza to join him. When she moved toward Landry, he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, your mom’s pretty sick. Probablybest if you don’t get too close to her germs. Tell her good night, and then let’s get you back into bed. You have school in a few hours.”
Cal could see Eliza’s face reflected in the mirror, and it was taut with tension. “I’m sorry I disobeyed, Mommy.”
Landry’s eyes shone as she studied her daughter. “We’ll talk about it later. I know you thought I needed help. Going to Cal was a good decision.”
Relief flooded Eliza’s expression. “He’ll take care of you.”
“Yes.” Cal squeezed her shoulder. “I will. But first, let’s get you back upstairs.”
“Good night, Mommy.” Eliza blew Landry a kiss.
“Good night, pumpkin.” Landry pretended to catch the kiss, then blew one back.
Cal led Eliza back to the stairs and up to the loft where her bed was located. She climbed in without complaint, and when he pulled the covers over her, she snuggled in, her face at peace. Maisy jumped on the bed and curled up at her feet. Clearly, Eliza was hers to protect.
“Night, Cal.”
“Good night.” Her eyes closed, and her breathing was soft and even. She was probably asleep by the time he made it down the stairs.
He paused in the kitchen to fix a glass of water for Landry, then returned to the bathroom. She sat, eyes closed, face in a grimace. “I brought you some water.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she reached for the glass. “Thank you.” She took a small sip, and her entire body went rigid.
“What’s wrong?”
“Throat. So sore. Hurts to swallow.” She set the glass on the floor. “I’m achy all over, but my throat’s the worst. It might be the flu. But I’ll be fine, Cal.”
“Yeah.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and turned on the flashlight. “Open up. Let me see that throat.”
She frowned at him. “Since when are you a doctor?”
“I’m the son of a doctor. I’m also someone who’s had strep throat enough in his lifetime to know the symptoms. Nausea, fever, sore throat, body aches—all hitting fast? You might have the flu. But in my professional strep-throat-survivor opinion, you have strep. Let me see.”
Landry opened her mouth, and Cal shined his light toward the back. Her throat was so red and swollen, it was no wonder it hurt to swallow. And it was covered in white spots.