11. Spencer

Chapter 11

Spencer

I felt her moving restlessly against me.

She moaned, and it woke me up.

Something wasn’t right. I could feel it.

I reached for the lantern next to the couch and flicked it on.

“Lucy?”

A low groan was my only answer. She was pale and trembling. I placed the back of my hand against her forehead. She wasn’t feverish, thank god. In fact, she was cool to the touch and sweating.

Her eyes flew open and then quickly shut as if she were in pain. “Oh god. Oh no. What—where am I? Oh! Spencer. I’m going to throw up.” She lurched out of bed and ran to the bathroom.

I raced behind her with the lantern just in time to see her fall to her knees in front of the toilet. It couldn’t be food poisoning; we had eaten the same things since we got here. And we hadn’t had enough to drink to warrant this kind of reaction.

“What’s happening? Lucy?” I set the lantern on the counter and pulled her hair back from her face, holding it as she continued to vomit until nothing remained.

She sat back, leaning against the tub. “I have a headache, a migraine.” She let her head drop to her bent knees.

I knelt in front of her. “What can I do? I think we have ibuprofen and maybe some Tylenol."

“Those won’t work. My medicine is at home. I have a prescription.”

“Do you want to go back to bed? Will sleep help?”

She grabbed the towel hanging off the counter and used it as a pillow while slowly collapsing to her side on the floor. “No, I’m dizzy. I’ll just stay right here. I’ll be okay. Go back to bed.”

“Go back to bed?” I scoffed, wondering what kind of loser she had been with who would have gone back to bed. “Like hell I will.” I scooped her into my arms and stood. “You’ll freeze in here. Let me take care of you.” I carried her back to bed and tucked her in. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything, okay? I mean it.”

Her eyes were glassy and filled with tears that she quickly blinked away.

I rushed to the kitchen, found a big mixing bowl in case she needed to throw up again, filled a glass with water, and returned to the bed. “I brought you a bowl and a glass of water. I wish we had Sprite. My dad always gave us that when we were sick.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled. “Coke would be better for me. Caffeine sometimes helps.”

“What about coffee or tea? I can also find some medicine; we always have the basic stuff here. It wouldn't hurt, right?”

“No. It might help a little.”

“Use the bowl if you need to, Lucy. I mean it. You’re dizzy, so do not get out of that bed.”

“Okay.” Her voice was weak. It worried me. One of my brothers used to get headaches like this. A couple of times, my dad had to take him to the emergency room.

My worry for her made me frantic. I rushed around the kitchen, searching the cupboards for anything she may need—anything I could possibly find to make her feel better.

I started the kettle and opened the pantry, where my dad usually kept a stash of over-the-counter remedies. “We have ibuprofen and Tylenol.”

“Tylenol,” she answered weakly.

I poured some hot water into a pitcher and added some teabags for caffeine. I used the remaining hot water to make a hot compress for her forehead. I brought it to the bed along with the medication. I sat on the edge and helped her up. I shook two pills into her palm, and she swallowed them down with her glass of water.

I didn’t like feeling helpless like this. Her pain was out of my control, and I couldn’t take it away.

“Lie back.” I placed the warm cloth over her eyes. “Try to sleep. I’ll bring you tea when you wake up unless you’d rather have it now.”

Her bleary eyes met mine. “Why don’t I listen to my mother, Spencer? She keeps telling me to carry my pills in my purse. And I swore to her I’d never drive the backroads home in the dark and where did you find me? Where, Spencer? I’m so stupid sometimes, always doing the opposite of what she says?—”

My heart lurched in my chest. “Hey, sweetheart, no. You’re not stupid; don’t talk about yourself like that. You probably always go and get into bed when you feel one coming on, don’t you?” I ran the back of my hand down her cheek, telling myself I was checking for fever again. But the truth was I needed the contact to assure myself she would be okay.

“Yeah…”

“And the back roads are perfectly safe to drive. No one expected this snowstorm. It came out of nowhere. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Now, is there anything else that would help you? If the tea and Tylenol don’t work?”

Her eyes drifted to mine, and my heart banged against my ribs as I was struck by the wistful sadness I saw in her gaze. “My mom used to wash my hair and rub my head for me. Sometimes, I get so frustrated with her, and then I think of all she does for me and how she always takes care of me. I feel terrible. She’d always tell me to let my head float in the water to relax, and it always helped. We had a huge tub like the one here, and lucky for me, I’m so short. But there’s no hot water... I’m going back to sleep. It hurts to be awake.”

She handed me the cloth and pulled a pillow over her face. “Thank you, Spencer,” she mumbled. “I’m sure the Tylenol will at least take the edge off. And that will make a huge difference.”

“You let me know if you need anything. Wake me up. I mean it.”

“’kay…”

I watched her until her breathing evened out, and she finally fell asleep again. Then, I climbed into bed next to her. One thing I could do for sure was make sure she stayed warm. I lined myself up along her back, close but not touching.

My dad always used to say that sometimes, just having someone stay close to you when you were out of sorts could make all the difference in the world.