Where We Meet Again, стр. 19
I knock louder. “Evelyn?”
No answer.
My stomach turns queasy as I thrust open her door. Even with her excitement for school break, she isn’t a lazy kid. The minute I locate her lying in bed, I know. Call it motherly instinct. I don’t even need to press my hand to her forehead for confirmation, but I do it anyway. She’s burning up.
“Are you feeling sick, honey?”
“Yes.” The moan is pitiful.
“I’ll call you out of school. Be right back.”
Thankfully, I trust her to stay home alone, which means I won’t have to call out of work. I have sick leave saved, but we are such a small town that only a few of us work in rotation. If I can help it, I don’t want to inconvenience my coworkers. The bad news is she has more than a minor cold, possibly the flu. My heart breaks for her and that I can’t stay with her.
I confirm we’re well stocked on canned soups and crackers and leave her with her phone nearby and instructions to call me if she needs anything.
* * *
The slow day allows me to answer Evelyn’s eight calls and take care of her fires without jeopardizing my job. Nathan, my regular partner and other best friend, is ridiculously cool about me dealing with my sick kid. He’d lost his wife two years ago to breast cancer and understood better than most balancing a job and family illnesses.
My poor girl sounds miserable. This has to be the start of the flu. The actual flu. Not the sniffles people get in the winter and call the flu. I’ll need to arm myself so I don’t get sick too.
At the end of the day, I can’t escape fast enough. During one of her many phone calls, Evelyn requested popsicles for her sore throat. So I drive the extra fifteen minutes to the grocery store. I run straight for the frozen treats section, choose a box of her favorite cherry, and then stroll to the pharmacy. After adding an arsenal of cold and pain soothers to my cart, I contemplate dinner.
Evelyn would want soup, but something more appealing than the Campbell’s in the cabinet might entice her to eat. The front left wheel of my cart squeaks noisily as I stride to the deli.
For a small-town grocer, this store carries everything. They stock the deli fresh daily with some of my favorite foods. I often come by late Sunday night and pick up some pre-made meals for weekday lunches. A half-gallon of soup can last Evelyn and me the entire week. I’ll see if they have some creamy gnocchi or maybe a roasted squash to get some healthy stuff in her, and a loaf of French bread for dipping.
Just as I can almost taste the deli from the aroma surrounding me, the front of my cart jerks to a stop. My stomach collides with the handle and the cart lists to the left. I lock my hands to save it from crashing to the floor, but the weight and gravity overpowers me. The cart drags me down with it when someone reaches out and steadies us.
“Careful.”
I suck breath back into my shocked lungs when I glance up and lose it all over again.
“Lawrence. Thank you.”
Rocking back on his heels, he inserts his hands in his pockets and nods.
“I know it’s not my business, but you’re still in town.”
He scans my face. I feel as if I’m under a microscope. Like everything inside me is exposed.
“Is there a question there?”
One thing’s for certain, he’s still pissed. I better wrap this up and get home to my Evelyn. I have more pressing issues than entertaining his insults. “Not really, I guess. I’m surprised to bump into you is all.”
“I gotta eat, just like everybody else.”
“Right.” I lower my gaze. I shouldn’t be surprised he doesn’t want to strike up a conversation with me.
I shove my cart to maneuver around him, but the damn thing doesn’t move. I close my eyes and summon patience.
“Your wheel’s broken.”
My eyes pop open, and I inspect the wheels. “Well, that’s just great.”
Law walks to the nearest end cap and returns with a shopping basket. Without asking me, he transfers my items from the cart. “Are you always this dramatic?”
“Only when I’m trying to get home to my sick daughter,” I snap.
He hesitates with the box of popsicles in his hand. Turning only his head, he searches my face. “She okay?” As he waits for my reply, he straightens, and my now full basket of items dangles from his fingertips.
My heart aches knowing the direction his thoughts must have gone. Law’s right. I am dramatic. “Yeah, she’s okay,” I murmur. “It’s just the flu. I need to get her some soup for dinner.”
Law strides over to the deli counter. I reluctantly follow as he still holds my basket. During our exchange, the line disappeared as they helped other customers. He hands my items over to the employee. “Hey, Cory, can you ring these things up? We also need some soup. Cami, what does your girl like?”
Several things happen at once, and my brain can’t keep up. Like how he knows the employee’s first name. Or the way he asks me what soup Evelyn likes, as if he’s ordering for me. Last, the fact he’s being friendly at all.
I close my mouth and shake off the surprise. Let him be helpful. The less we fight, the faster I can get home to Evelyn.
“Um, gnocchi or butternut squash. In that order. Oh, and some French bread.”
The corner of Law’s mouth twitches. “I’ll take a half-gallon of gnocchi, a half-gallon of the squash, and you have any of that toasted sweet bread made up?”
“I can just grab a loaf and toast it myself.” I offer, not needing to purchase the expensive stuff.
“Sure do. You want a half or a whole?” Cory moves around as he