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“I appreciate that.”
“She was a fixture in this town,” he said. “Such a strong, determined woman.”
Talulah smiled, somewhat surprised to find he genuinely seemed to admire Phoebe. “There are beets in the cellar. Let me get you some.”
She ran downstairs, grabbed as many jars as she could carry and brought them to Dr. Gregor as he stood waiting on the porch, dabbing his sweat-dampened forehead with a handkerchief.
“Well, will you look at this,” he said, sliding his thick-rimmed glasses higher on his nose. “I’ll really enjoy them. And I’ll think of Phoebe every time I open a jar.”
“Thank you for coming.”
Talulah watched him get into his Suburban before she went back inside, retrieved the fan she’d been using in the basement and carried it to the bedroom.
Brant seemed to be sleeping deeply as she plugged it in and turned it on. He moved when she refreshed the rag on his forehead, but he didn’t wake up, so she sat at her aunt’s desk in the corner and read a suspense novel, some news and surfed the internet on her phone for a couple of hours. She had so much to do, but if she went very far from the room, she wouldn’t be able to hear if Brant needed her, especially with the fan on.
It was only eight when she grew bored. While refreshing the rag on his forehead yet again, she felt his cheeks with the back of her hand to judge his temperature. He seemed to be cooling off. She wondered if she should remove his shirt and possibly his jeans. She had no doubt he’d be more comfortable. But she wasn’t convinced that getting his clothes off would be worth waking him.
She was just trying to think of something else she could do to entertain herself when she saw that his eyes were open and tracking her.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Like someone’s taking a sledgehammer to my head,” he muttered.
“I’ll get you some more painkillers.” She was no longer worried about the bottle of ibuprofen being past its expiration date. While she was on her phone, she’d learned that most tablet medications remain effective years after opening them.
She hurried to the kitchen and returned with two more tablets and a glass of cold lemonade. “Are you hungry?” she asked as she helped him sit up so he could take the pills.
“No,” he said. “But I do need to go to the bathroom.”
He managed to swing his legs over the side and sit up straight, but she stopped him there. “You’ll be cooler if we can get some of these clothes off you,” she said, and he held up his arms as she tugged off his T-shirt.
She tried not to admire his chest and shoulders, but they were a work of art—even with such a marked farmer’s tan. “Now for the bathroom,” she said as she pulled him to his feet.
“You okay?” she asked, quickly steadying him when he swayed.
“I think so.”
She guided him to the bathroom, which was out in the hall.
“I’m guessing you can manage now,” she said, once he grabbed onto the sink.
“Yeah. I got it.”
She waited in the hall until she heard the toilet flush and the taps go on as he washed his hands.
When he came out, she saw that he hadn’t bothered to zip or button the fly of his jeans. “We might as well get rid of these, too,” she said. “You’ll be a lot more comfortable.”
He didn’t argue. He just leaned against the wall as she removed his socks and peeled off his jeans, which she tossed aside.
“All set?” she asked when he was wearing nothing but his boxers.
“That feelsa lotbetter,” he admitted. “It’s fucking hot in here.”
“No kidding,” she agreed as they moved back to the bed. “But it’s cooling down.”
“Where are you going?” he mumbled when she turned to leave the room.
“I’ll be downstairs for a bit.”
