When I get to Beck’s trailer, all the lights are off. The car is in the driveway, so I know she’s home. Getting out of the truck, I grab the box from Maggie and take it with me to the door. I knock twice, but there is no answer.
The wind has picked up, and the temperature has dropped over the past few hours. Though it’s still early evening, the sky is already black, the moon and stars hidden by a blanket of heavy clouds. Fuck, I really hope it doesn’t snow. I’m not ready yet. Shivering, I knock again.
This time I hear her call faintly through the door, followed by a bout of coughing. Balancing the box on my hip, I open the door and step inside.
“Beck?” I call into the darkness.
“Ryan?” she questions with a hoarse voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Maggie sent me. Why are you in the dark?”
I feel around inside the door until I find a switch and turn the lights on. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light before I see Beck curled in a fetal position on her bed. Blankets cocoon her, and a hood covers her head. Placing the box on the table, I quickly cross the room and crouch down.
Pushing her damp bangs from her forehead, I feel how hot she is. “Jesus, Beck. How long have you been sick?”
“A couple of days. It’s just a cold,” she mumbles with her eyes closed.
“Are you sure? I think you have a fever.” I move my cool hand down to her cheek. “Do you have a thermometer?”
“No,” she mumbles, as she turns and coughs into her arm. “I can’t get warm, and my entire body aches,” she tells me with a raspy voice.
Rising, I go to the bag from the pharmacy and take out the bottle of acetaminophen. Shaking out a couple into my palm, I return to her with the medication and a bottle of orange juice.
“Here, this will help.” She blinks sleepily as I help her sit up before handing her the pills and the open bottle of juice. She takes a small sip before trying to give it back to me. “I need you to drink a little more, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispers before taking another drink. “Why are you here?” she asks, furrowing her brow.
“I stopped at the bakery on my way home, and Maggie asked me to drop off medicine and food. She said something about a wedding cake and couldn’t bring it herself.”
“Thank you,” she says, lying back down, pulling the blankets up under her chin.
“Do you want soup? Maggie sent chicken noodle.” I gesture towards the box on the table.
“Not right now. I need to sleep,” she mumbles, closing her eyes again. Within a couple of minutes, she’s snoring softly.
Getting up, I return to the table and unpack the food. There’s no way I am leaving her like this. She’s in no condition to take care of herself. I’ll stay at least until the meds kick in and I know she’s okay. And long enough to make sure she has something to eat.
Opening the fridge to put away the soup and sandwiches for later, I find it almost bare, except for a jar of dill pickles, mustard, and half a bottle of ketchup. I don’t cook much, but I have more than condiments in my fridge. Glancing over at the bed, I check to see if she’s still sleeping before peeking into her cupboards. Soda crackers, ramen, and a jar of peanut butter. She doesn’t even have bread. That’s pretty grim. Which makes mewonder if this is a cooking issue or something bigger. Surely, she has enough money to buy food.
Sitting down at the table, I take a sip of coffee and watch her sleep. Even from here, I can see sweat beading on her pale forehead as she shivers under the blankets. What if this is more than a cold? What if there is something seriously wrong? Chest tightening, I set the cup down and walk back to her bed and cover her with another blanket. I don’t know what to do.
Taking my phone out of my pocket, I call someone who will.
“Hello,” Claire answers after the third ring. I can hear the noise in the background quieting and a door shutting as she moves into another room.
“Hi, Claire.” Drumming my fingers on the table, I ask, “Umm, I was wondering if you could help me.”
“Me?” I can hear the confusion in her voice. “Sure. What do you need help with?”
“Maggie asked me to drop off some medicine to Beck because she has a cold.”
“Oh, no,” she interrupts. “Ben and I both had it earlier in the week. Is she feeling rough?”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m calling. I’m pretty sure she has a fever. She woke up long enough to take acetaminophen and have a small drink. She said that her body is aching, and she’s cold.” I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat before confessing, “I’m staying but I don’t know how to help her.”
Claire’s quiet for a moment before saying, “I’m glad she’s not alone. It’s crummy being sick and not having anyone around to take care of you.”
Closing my eyes tight, I try to keep my voice steady. “I don’t mind.” Clearing the lump in my throat, I assure her. “I want to. I’m not going anywhere.”
