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“Jon? Jon?” I turned him from his side onto his back and looked him over. He was pale and sweaty, but he didn’t appear injured. I put two fingers on his wrist, and found a pulse. It was surprisingly faster than expected. I stuffed my hand in my pocket and retrieved the phone, poised to dial emergency services.
“Mmmph,” he groaned, his eyes blinking half open as he struggled to sit up. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. You tell me,” I replied, reaching out to help him to his feet. “Come on, let’s get you out of the heat.”
We stumbled, arms linked around one another’s waists, toward my grandmother’s house. Inside, I sat him on the sofa and got him a cold glass of water and a cool cloth to wrap around his neck. I gave up the idea of calling 911 for now, my concentration more on doing what I could to take care of him. He was still a bit wobbly.
“I don’t know what happened,” he muttered, his words a little stilted, slurred.
“I think you need to lie down for a bit.”
“Probably. I think I got too hot out there. Let me get out of your hair.” He stood up and almost fell over.
“No. Come on. I’m going to put you in the guest room.”
“Nah. I’ll be fine. Just stood up a bit too fast and got woozy.”
“Don’t be stubborn, for once. Come on.” I steadied his much larger frame with a hand on his arm.
For a moment, our eyes met, which sent a shiver down my spine. It was brief but familiar, and I turned away, unwilling to let myself go down that path. Jon was weak from whatever had happened to him out there. Though he struggled to keep his weight off me, I could feel him pressing down on my much smaller frame. He was six-two and all muscle, while I was only five-six and thin, but not athletic in the least. It reminded me of another time, feeling his weight against mine, the quarterback and the nerd. I pushed the memory down and helped him onto the bed.
“I’m going to get you some more water and freshen that dish towel. I’ll be right back,” I told him, quickly excusing myself and hurrying back out before he could say anything further.
In the kitchen, I refilled his glass with ice water and rewet the towel under the cold tap. I stopped long enough to lean against the counter and catch my breath. I’d been here less than a day, and already things were out of control. My life was out of control everywhere, it seemed. My engagement was off. My investment in the clinic was in jeopardy. I’d lost the most important woman in my life, and the man I least wanted to see was in a bedroom nearby. It felt like the walls were closing in.
For a moment, I pressed the wet cloth to my own face, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before returning to the bedroom to find Jon fast asleep. I pondered whether this was OK or not. Should I wake him to make sure he wasn’t in any danger? He looked better. His color had come back, and he seemed to have cooled off. Ultimately, I decided he was better and just drained from being out in the heat. I placed the towel across his forehead and sat the ice water on the bedside table, leaving him there to rest.
I was like a caged animal in the house. I was afraid to leave but on pins and needles knowing he was nearby. Periodically, I checked in on him, feeling more like a creeper than a caretaker. It was a relief when I heard him stirring, and he finally walked out into the living room, the kitchen towel in one hand and an empty glass in the other.
“More water?” I asked.
“Yes, please,” he said with a sheepish smile, handing me the glass.
“Do you feel better?”
“Yes. I have no idea what happened. I was hauling planks in from the truck and dropped some off then went back to get another load. I felt a little lightheaded, and that’s the last thing I remember until you showed up.”
I handed him a fresh glass of ice water and nodded. “I’m guessing you just got too hot and passed out.”
“Good thing there was a doctor handy.”
“Not much help to you, unless you need a flea treatment.”
“You seem to have gotten me back on my feet.”
“Just a matter of getting you out of the sun and cooled down.”
“Well, thanks,” he said, sipping the water and looking around. “Feels weird being in here without her.”
“Yeah. It does.”
“What happens to it when you go back to California?”
“I don’t know,” I told him.
“Why is that?”
Unsure of why I was confiding in him, I told him about my meeting and earlier phone call with Beau. He nodded and listened, letting me talk. After a while, he reached over and put his hand on mine in a comforting gesture, but the effect it had was anything but that. The memory of how we had left things all those years ago welled up like a kraken piercing the ocean surface and overwhelmed me. I jerked my hand back, sprang up from the sofa, and turned toward him.
