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"But I live here. Make her leave."
"Sweetheart, Rebecca lives here, too, now."
As if on cue, the door to his bedroom opened and Rebecca walked out, wrapped sarong-style in a sheet.
"Is there anything to eat in this house? I'm starved," she croaked.
"Rebecca," he whispered, hardly daring to believe she was really there. Her chestnut hair hung in bedraggled, sweat-soaked strands around her pinched and drawn face. But her fever had broken. She'd never looked lovelier. And now that she'd passed the critical point, the neukocytes in her blood stream would be healing her with as much speed as they'd previously made her ill.
"Mrs. Lacroix, I'm glad you're feeling better." Mrs. Waters bustled past him into the kitchen. "You just tell me what you want, now, and I'll bring you in a tray. Some nice soup, perhaps? A sandwich?"
"That sounds great. Maybe two sandwiches. I'm really hungry."
Gillian poked Desmond's shoulder. "I wanna help."
"You want to help make a sandwich for Rebecca?" He didn't think he'd understood her correctly, but Gillian nodded. Thought-pictures of when she'd been sick, and the people she'd cared about had tended her, flashed through his mind. Mixed in were dim memories of her mother's illness, when Gillian had been an infant.
He set her down with a light kiss on her forehead. His family. It was more than he'd dared to hope for, more than he'd ever believed. And because of Rebecca, he had it all.
"Go ahead and help Mrs. Waters. Rebecca will like that."
Gillian laughed and pelted into the kitchen.
"Why will I like that?" Rebecca asked, arching her eyebrow.
"First of all, because you're starving." He walked across the room, feasting his eyes on her. He'd been so afraid of losing her. Now that she was here to stay, he didn't think he'd ever be able
to get enough of her. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her back into their room. "Second, because even though you're getting better, you still need rest, and I'm putting you to bed."
He laid her gently on the bed, then fluffed the pillows behind her head. Going over to the dresser, he picked up a hair brush, then came back and sat beside her. As he smoothed the brush through her hair, she closed her eyes and sighed in contentment.
"Any other reasons?"
"Yes." He leaned down and touched her lips with a kiss. "Because I'm putting you to bed, and you don't need that much rest."
She laughed, and wound her arms around his neck.
"You're right. I think I'll like that very much."
~ * ~
