“I’ll get it,” Phillip called. I heard him talking. Then Virginia was looking at me from the doorway.
Virginia Mitchell, who’d told me she was twenty-three, was an African American woman with close-cut hair. Today she wore cropped running pants, an exercise bra under a complicated tank top, and a thin zip-up jacket, which she was removing. Virginia’s narrow feet were tucked into high-end running shoes, and her glasses were clearly sports-friendly. She had a large bag slung over her shoulder. I remembered that: it was just as large as mine, and just as shapeless.
Virginia didn’t look like a babysitter or household help. She looked as though she sold pricey athletic gear at lululemon. “Roe, you don’t look too good,” she said.
I had no doubt I looked as bad as I felt, but at the moment, I didn’t care about anything but my increasing awareness that I was really ill. “Good to see you again. Thanks for helping us out in a crisis,” I croaked. I began the laborious process of getting to my feet. “Sophie’s fed, changed, and she’s had some playtime. She should be tired in a minute.”
“She’s grown so much in two months! And she’s sleeping through the night, your husband told me?” Virginia was already squatting down to smile at Sophie. Sophie looked interested.
“Sometimes six hours straight,” I said, making an effort to keep on track. “I’ll feed her one more time before I turn in for the night. If she wakes up, see if patting her doesn’t put her out again. If it doesn’t, bring her into my bedroom. I’ll wear a mask. The doctor says it should be okay. The cat has her own door now, so she won’t have to be let in or out.” Moosie, my deceased sister-in-law’s pet, was a sweet but timid creature that had never exactly become “our” cat. But she did live with us. Moosie came in and out of the cat door on her own schedule, emptied her bowl regularly, and every now and then demanded lap time.
“I think I remember you feed her in the morning?” Virginia said.
I nodded, feeling my head ache with every movement.
Virginia looked at me narrowly. “How’s your mom? She been in to see you today?”
Not too surprisingly, my mother had been a frequent visitor right after Sophie had been born, and she’d also been responsible for hiring Virginia, on recommendation of a friend. “Mother’s fine,” I said faintly. “But she and John are at his family reunion in Savannah.”
“She’s not even in town? When do you think she’ll be back?”
“Couple of days.” At this point I hardly cared. I got the message; Virginia was anxious to identify an adult family member close at hand, in case I got much sicker. But she wisely let the subject drop.
“Do you want me to fix you some supper? Maybe a salad? Or some yogurt?” She was settled on the floor beside Sophie.
I had to repress a gag. “No, thanks. I heated up a pizza for Phillip and me, but I can’t eat it. If you’re hungry, half of it’s yours.” My bed was calling my name. “If you don’t remember where something is, just ask me or Phillip. I’m going to lie down now.”
“Anything in particular you want me to do while Sophie sleeps?”
“I am so glad you’re here,” I said sincerely. “I just need you to be in charge of the baby. And if Phillip doesn’t put the pizza away … if there’s any left … I’d appreciate it if you’d stick it in the refrigerator. And there are clothes in the dryer, but nothing that really needs folding. There’s SmartWater in the pantry, and other drinks and snacks. Help yourself.”
“If you need me, call me. The roses are so pretty.”
“What?” I drew a blank for a second. “Oh, the yellow ones. Yeah, I don’t know who left those.”
“The florist didn’t know?”
“Found ’em on the doorstep.”
“If the florist didn’t ring the doorbell, I guess they were hand-delivered by the sender,” Virginia said sensibly.
I hardly cared who had sent the flowers or why they’d been abandoned on the doorstep. I just wanted her to leave me alone. “I’m just going to rest a little, now that you’re here,” I said, trying to suppress the longing in my voice.
“You don’t look like you feel very well at all.” Virginia was obviously anxious.
“I really don’t,” I said. “But I’ll do my best not to give you any germs.”
“Climb in bed and don’t worry.” She leaned over the baby, smiling. “I’ll take care of Miss Sophie.”
I could have kissed Virginia’s feet, but instead I gave her a more socially acceptable grateful nod before I tottered across the hall. I had made the bed this morning, which seemed like a hundred years ago. I eyed it with almost indecent anticipation. As I pulled off my clothes and put them in the hamper, I realized I was shaking. I slipped into my favorite nightgown. Despite what I had told Virginia, I crawled between the sheets and was officially in bed.
I hadn’t felt this ill in years. You’ve got the flu, I admitted. I wondered, in a dull, remote sort of way, how I was going to cope for the next few days, even with Virginia’s help. I was shivering so much I pulled the covers up around my neck. I’d opened the book I’d left on my nightstand, and I planned on reading. But then I thought I’d just lay it down for a second. And I was out.
When I surfaced, Phillip was standing by the bed looking down at me.
“You look like one of the Walking Dead,” he said, after a comprehensive scan of my face.
“Oh, thanks. That helps my morale.”
“Maybe one of the fresher zombies from FTWD,” he conceded.
I blew my nose and tossed the tissue into the wastebasket I’d positioned beside the bed. “That’s one of the things you don’t say even if you think it, Bubba. Virginia and Sophie doing okay?”
“They’re fine,” he said. “Do you want me to stay home from the cleanup day? I’ll only be gone from ten to two. But you look pretty feeble.”
I’d completely forgotten that Phillip had promised to help at the park cleanup day tomorrow. Father Aubrey Scott had challenged our youth group to put in so many community volunteer hours a year. He’d pledged that our church would take a part in the “Clean the Park” program this Saturday, in anticipation of the Halloween celebration next month.
“You can’t let Father Scott down,” I croaked. “I can manage taking care of Sophie by myself for a few hours. Virginia’s coming back tomorrow night.”
“I’ll come straight home from cleanup,” he reassured me, looking a little self-sacrificing. It didn’t take a detective to figure out he’d had more plans for Saturday afternoon. I rustled up enough energy to thank him appropriately. He patted me on the arm. “I’d hug you, but, germs,” he said.
Virginia knocked on the doorframe awkwardly, because she had an armful of the world’s most beautiful baby, who was making unhappy noises. “Someone’s hungry,” she said, smiling. “You ready?”