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She went back to taking care of her charge. They had lunch, and then before she knew it, she started dinner. When the meal was ready, she once more looked at Timber's bedroom door. She hadn't heard him get up or even use the restroom. It made her worry.
She put dinner away after eating and bathed Marigold. She put her to bed and once more checked in on Timber. She walked toward his bed and placed her hand on his arm.
"Timber? You okay?"
He grunted and rolled over, eyes closed. She wet her lips and was about to say something but stopped. She sighed, letting him sleep instead. Apparently, he needed the rest.
She left the room and retreated to her own. She could wake him tomorrow.
The following morning, she watched Marigold and went through breakfast alone and into lunch. She watched the clock, her worry building leaps and bounds. She hoped he wasn't so sick that he couldn’t call out for help.
Marigold was napping when she slipped back into Timber's bedroom. She tiptoed to his bed and gently shook his shoulder.
"Timber, are you not feeling okay? Should I call a doctor?"
He grunted and rolled away, pulling the sheets over him. She frowned.
"Don't ignore my question, please. Are you feeling okay? Let me feel your head."
She reached over to him, and his eyes snapped open. He glared at her, enraged.
"Stop!" he snapped.
He rolled farther from her to the other side of the bed. She stiffened, her throat tightening.
"Just take care of the baby and let me catch up on my sleep, would you? Can't you just do that?" he growled at her.
She felt tears well, and she swallowed, stepping back. She wanted to say something but didn’t know what. She hurried out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
She tried not to let his words bother her because she would have probably reacted the same way if she wasn't feeling good.
Right? You would have been grouchy.
She shook her head and decided to leave it be. She needed to focus on Marigold, and she heard the child waking from her nap.
On the third day, she was plain angry. She wasn't worried anymore. All night, she replayed Timber's words in her head. He wanted only her to watch Marigold.
But she told him right from the beginning she wasn't Marigold's mother. The baby had seen her more than her own father, and it pissed her off.
After putting her down for a nap, she stormed into Timber's bedroom. She threw the door open, allowing it to slam against the wall. She marched up to his bed, feeling like steam spewed from her ears.
"Get up!" she yelled, pulling at his sheets.
Timber pulled his eyes open, looking at her. He sat slightly up, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"
She scowled at him. While he was nicer, she was still angry.
"It's almost three, and you need to get out of bed and see your daughter."
He groaned, rubbing at his forehead now. She crossed her arms.
"Are you sick? Do I need to call someone?"
He looked at her and shook his head. "No, I'm not sick."
"Then there is no reason you haven't gotten out of bed," she barked, losing control over her frustration.
He yawned. "This happens. I'll stay awake a lot, and then I'll sleep for a few days. It often happens during hibernation time."
