Blades of Bluegrass

by D. Jackson Leigh

  “Any nausea?” Teddy stuck the digital thermometer in Britt’s ear and waited for it to beep.

  “No. Throat’s sore, and I’m still really tired. Have I been out long?”

  “About eight hours. I gave you a second dose of medicine two hours ago and this bag is almost finished, so I think we can get rid of the IV. Then we’ll get you in some dry sweats and change the sheets on the bed, so you’ll be more comfortable.” Teddy rummaged through her med kit and set out the bandage she’d need to tape in place when she withdrew the needle. “But if you can’t hold down oral meds, we’ll have to restart it.”

  “Okay.” She’d fight that battle later. “What are you doing here, Dad?” Despite the rift between them, his presence comforted the daughter side of her. He was the parent who read her bedtime stories, attended her sporting events, and brought her treats when she wasn’t feeling well.

  “I’d stopped by the VA on my way back to DC to meet with General Schrader about some legislation we’re trying to push through and ran into Tom Winstead. He had your meds in his hand, complaining about not having support troops at the VA, and digging money out of his wallet to bribe a civilian nurse to drive out here and deliver them.” He shrugged. “Where else would I be after learning my favorite daughter was sick?”

  Britt offered a weak smile, her throat tightening at the familiar love—and the unfamiliar touch of sadness—in his eyes. Although she had a major problem with the senator, she didn’t want to be at odds with her father. “I’m your only daughter.” It was the expected reply to their familiar jest. “But thanks.”

  “So, fresh clothes?” Teddy stood by Britt’s dresser.

  Britt pushed the covers back and sat up to swing her feet to the floor. She paused to wait out a wave of dizziness and gather her strength. Her father was at her side the instant she tried to stand. He steadied her with an arm around her waist and his strong physique pressed against her side.

  “Slow down, minnow,” he said. “Wait until you get your sea legs back.”

  She gave him a mock glare and replied with the rote retort. “I’m no freaking navy minnow, sir. I’m all army. Hoo-ah.”

  “Right you are, soldier. Hoo-ah.” He stepped back but stayed close enough to catch her if she faltered.

  Britt selected her underwear but let Teddy dig around in the lower drawers for the soft flannel pajama pants and long-sleeved T-shirt she wore only in the dead of winter. Her head still ached with a dull throb and felt like it would topple her over if she bent down.

  Teddy escorted her to the bathroom door, then handed her the clothing. “I’m going to change your sheets while you freshen up and change. No shower until tomorrow. I don’t want you to get chilled again.”

  “Okay.” Britt already wanted to crawl back in bed and snuggle under the warm blanket, so she didn’t intend to argue. But she was dying to pee after two IV bags and wasn’t going to miss the chance to scrub the acrid taste of raw stomach juices from her teeth. When she emerged from the bathroom, a tray of nourishment was on her nightstand, and her father was helping Teddy change her bedding. She sat in the wingback chair and accepted the tray Teddy slid onto her lap. She wasn’t really hungry, but the mug of Lynn’s chicken noodle soup, buttery Club crackers, and glass of ginger ale were a little tempting. She nibbled a cracker, then dipped it in the soup to finish it off.

  Pop appeared in the doorway. “How’s my granddaughter?”

  Teddy smiled as she fluffed the last pillow and turned to sit on the side of the bed. “Much better. Still running a bit of fever, but this virus should have run its course after a couple of days.”

  “Good. Now, how’s my partner?” This question was pointed directly at Britt.

  “Done in for today.” Britt knew Pop would want total honesty. “But probably well enough to finish going over those scores with you tomorrow morning.”

  Pop nodded. “Good enough. We’ve got time before we need to head to Keeneland. Don’t try to overdo things too soon. I need my partner well for the yearling sale.”

  “You’ve got it, Pop.” Britt sipped the soup. She’d managed about half the mug, but she felt like if she didn’t get back in the bed now, somebody might have to carry her. She motioned for Teddy to take the tray.

  Her father was instantly at her side, hesitating in a moment of confusion when he held out his hand, then realized he was reaching for her left arm. Before he could switch, Britt grasped his forearm with her right hand and levered herself to stand. His ears and neck reddened at the faux pas.

  “It’s okay, Dad. I’m ambidextrous now. Anything I can do with my right hand, I can do with my right hand.”

  Teddy shook her head, looking amused at Britt’s joke. “Back in the bed with you. You’re getting delirious again.”

  Her dad, however, wasn’t in tune with their humor. “Britt. If I could change what happened…”

  Britt stiffened, her anger rising as hot and as fresh as the day she’d confronted him in the hospital in Germany. “Don’t. It’s too late to change what’s already happened, but it’s still happening at every base over there. Hell, every base here in the US. The question remains as to whether you’ll do the right thing to stop it.”

  Brock frowned, the red creeping up his neck, angry rather than embarrassed. When he opened his mouth to speak, Pop clamped a large hand on his son’s shoulder.

  “Dinner’s ready downstairs. Let’s go eat and give Britt a chance to rest.”

  With one last scowl at Britt, her father followed Pop down the stairs. Teddy hung back, setting the food tray on the nightstand. “I’ll take the soup mug but leave the ginger ale and crackers.” She hovered over Britt, tucking her blankets in and fluffing her pillow, then stopped when Britt grabbed her hand.

  “Sorry you had to see me at my worst. I hate throwing up.” She leaned into Teddy’s hand when Teddy cupped her cheek. “I know these viruses can be very contagious, and I hope you don’t get whatever I had.”

  Teddy pressed forward and brushed her lips against Britt’s. “I’m sure that since we shared spit last night, I would already have had symptoms if it’d gotten past my immune system.”

  “Shared spit?” Britt smiled, her mouth still inches from Teddy’s. She was exhausted and aching, but she wanted the taste of Teddy’s tongue against hers more than she wanted breath right now. “Well, since you’re immune, let’s share a little more.” She pulled Teddy down and opened to her. Their tongues danced for a moment, but then Britt pulled back. She didn’t have the breath or stamina to keep going. “Mmm. I approve of your treatment techniques, but I’m going to nap while you go eat.”

  Teddy, flushed and smiling, backed away. “Sweet dreams.”

  * * *

  Britt’s dreams were not sweet.

  Teddy had woken Britt after dinner to take more medicine and eat a handful of crackers. Her stomach seemed to be settling, but the low-grade fever persisted. Her symptoms were typical of a stomach virus, so Teddy wasn’t worried. In fact, she was surprised Britt’s high fever had broken so quickly. E.B. and Senator Story, however, said she’d always been that way, even as a child. They insisted Britt could sweat out a fever and throw off a virus faster than anyone they knew. Still, she wanted to keep a close watch in case Britt’s fever began to rise again, so she returned to her nest in the wingback chair after showering and putting on her pajamas. She donned her headphones and streamed a movie she’d been wanting to see on her laptop. She was halfway through the movie when movement on the bed caught her eye.

  Teddy snatched her headphones off as she set the laptop on the ottoman and launched herself from the chair to Britt’s bedside without conscious thought.

  “Get down. Avery. Stop. Avery. No.” Britt shouted and thrashed under the covers.

  Teddy tried to pin her to the bed like she had before, but Britt was stronger now that her fever was down. Teddy quickly found herself bucked off and sprawling on the floor. “Son of a bitch.” She jumped up and rounded the bed to try from the other si
de. If she could pin Britt’s arm, maybe she could get her to calm.

  “Bastard. Bad command. No, no. He killed her. Should have done more. Something. I should have—” Britt’s words dissolved into sob-like gasps, and her arm came from under the covers, her elbow headed straight for Teddy’s face.

  Teddy ducked. As a medic, she’d developed an instinct for dodging elbows and fists when wounded soldiers suddenly regained consciousness and flailed in panic. She grabbed Britt’s arm and pinned Britt’s right side with her full body. Britt shook all over, but her skin didn’t feel fevered. “It’s okay. Britt, it’s okay. You’re home. You’re safe.”

  Teddy could tell the moment Britt came awake. She went completely still except for the heaving of her chest. Teddy looked up into alarmed blue eyes. “Hey there. I promise I’m not molesting you in your sleep. I was just trying to keep you from tumbling out of the bed.”

  Britt stared for a few seconds, then averted her eyes. Teddy eased off her but remained lying on her side, propped on one arm, next to Britt.

  “Want to talk about the nightmare?”

  Britt shook her head, still refusing to meet Teddy’s eyes.

  Teddy stroked her cheek. “It’s okay, honey. I have my own. Not as bad as I used to. They do improve over time, but it sometimes helps to talk.” Not that she’d ever discussed hers with anyone.

  Britt shook her head again. “Can’t.”

  Teddy noted that Britt’s skin was still cool and her face less flushed. “Could be all the medicine I’ve pumped into you today, ya know? Making you dream.”

  Britt shrugged, remaining basically nonverbal but using the sheet to wipe sweat and some tears from her face.

  Teddy decided a diversion would let Britt keep her dignity and privacy intact. “How about I bring my laptop over here, and I can stream something we can watch together?”

  Britt chewed her lip, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Teddy smiled at her. “I’m going to grab some more pillows off my bed since you’re hogging all the ones here. It’ll just take a minute.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they were eating crackers and drinking ginger ale in bed, watching Secretariat. Britt added commentary in appropriate places, pointing out where the movie departed from real life at the track.

  By the movie’s end, Britt had relaxed and her breathing deepened. Her head had dropped onto Teddy’s shoulder, and, somehow during the movie, their hands had become entwined. Teddy closed the laptop and slid it onto the nightstand on her side of the bed. The reading lamp by Teddy’s chair still burned, but Teddy rested her chin on the top of Britt’s head and closed her eyes. Although she lay on top of the covers and Britt underneath, the solid length of Britt’s body next to hers to brought a peace she hadn’t experienced in years. Safe. Warm. Not alone.

  * * *

  Teddy woke to the shower running in the bathroom connected to the bedroom and Britt’s side of the bed unoccupied. She rubbed her eyes and stretched. Someone had draped a soft blanket over her during the night. The shower shut off, so Teddy rose to fold the blanket, clean up the trash from their cracker and ginger-ale feast the night before, and gather her things to return to her own bedroom. She was headed to the door when Britt emerged from the bathroom, hair wet and dressed in athletic pants and a white thermal Henley.

  “Hey, you feeling better this morning?” Without thinking, Teddy went to Britt and began rolling up her left sleeve so it cuffed at the end of her residual limb. She inspected Britt’s arm. “This is good. The redness from yesterday is gone. How’s it feel?”

  “I do feel better. Well enough to try some scrambled eggs and toast. And my arm feels good. Not sore at all.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Teddy laid her palm against Britt’s cheek, then her forehead. “No fever.”

  “Oh? I didn’t know you had a thermometer built into your hand.” Britt’s tone was teasing.

  “Why, yes. Yes, I do. It’s another innovation the army’s testing.” She stuck her tongue out at Britt. “Brat.”

  They stared at each other, grinning like idiots for no reason. At least no reason they cared to examine.

  “Breakfast in fifteen minutes.” E.B.’s bellow from the kitchen made them both jump, and they laughed.

  Teddy backed out of the room. “I’ve got to hurry. Fast, fast, fast.” She bumped into the door frame and corrected her path to step backward into the hallway. “Shower. Now.” If she stayed in the room another minute, staring into Britt’s blue eyes peeking at her from under wet, tousled hair, she was going to kiss her and forget that E.B. or Senator Story—if he was still here—could walk in on them at any minute. She wasn’t that worried about E.B., but the senator was another matter.

  * * *

  Britt was relieved her stomach didn’t rebel at the smells of breakfast when she paused in the doorway of the kitchen. She was hungry, but the memory of yesterday’s virus was still vivid enough to make her cautious. “Just some scrambled eggs and toast for me, Pop.” She hesitated when she realized he was stirring a pot of fresh grits. Real, high-quality grits. “And maybe some grits.”

  “Got ya covered, kiddo. We’ll start you out easy and see how it goes.”

  “Thanks.” She turned to scan the living room, then back to peer through the windows on the other side of the kitchen table. Nobody was on the porch, but a lone rider loped a tall, black Thoroughbred up from the sandy tractor paths that ran between the paddocks and hay barns. “He’s still here.”

  “Yep. He still comes back from time to time. Can’t stay away from the horses, especially when he’s got something on his mind.”

  “Like what?”

  “He doesn’t usually say. Just shows up for a day or two and rides the farm until he works it out.” Pop squinted one eye at her. “You gonna make a fuss about him being here now that you’re up and around?”

  She clenched her jaw and considered the question. “Not if Dad walks into this kitchen. But the minute he turns into the senator, I’m taking my breakfast to the office.”

  “Fair enough. You up to looking at the rest of those scores?”

  “Yeah. I think Teddy was right about it being one of those twenty-four-hour bugs.” She accepted the plate he handed her and took it to the table.

  “I’m always right,” Teddy said, heading straight for the coffee station. “But what am I right about this time?”

  “The up-chuck virus.” Pop held out a plate to Teddy. “You almost missed breakfast, missy.”

  “Don’t remind me of yesterday unless you want a repeat.” Britt’s mood had gone from sunny and clear upstairs, to dark and brooding downstairs. Not even the sunshine that seemed to follow Teddy into the room could brighten Britt’s mood.

  “Sorry. I was up late taking care of a certain patient.” Teddy, obviously failing to pick up on Britt’s change of mood, remained cheerful. She took her plate and sat next to Britt. “Thanks, by the way, for the blanket.”

  “Blanket?”

  “The one I woke up under this morning,” Teddy said, giving Pop a don’t-be-coy look.

  Pop shook his head. “Must have been Brock when he went up to bed.”

  “The senator’s still here?” Teddy spoke carefully, but her alarm was written all over her face. She looked at Britt, lowering her voice to a loud whisper. “He saw us on your bed together.”

  Pop’s forehead wrinkled like a slept-in shirt as his eyebrows rose. “I hope you girls had your clothes on.”

  Despite her mood, Britt shook her head and chuckled as Teddy’s expression turned from alarmed to mortified.

  “Uh, Pop might be old, but his hearing is as good as a twenty-year-old’s,” Britt said. “And yes, we were in our pajamas. I was under the covers, and Teddy was on top.”

  “Of the covers. I was on top of the covers,” Teddy frantically clarified.

  “We fell asleep watching a movie on her laptop.” Britt ignored Teddy’s figurative hand-wringing.

  “He’s coming,” Teddy said, her face now a ma
sk and her posture military stiff in her chair.

  Britt, sitting with her back to the windows, refused to look over her shoulder or turn around. “Does he have his phone out, texting or talking to someone?”

  Teddy glanced out the window. “Uh, no. He’s just smiling and walking this way. He’s waving at Jill.”

  Britt let out a long breath. “That’s Dad, not the senator. You can relax.” She mixed the buttery grits on her plate with the scrambled eggs and scooped up a big forkful. “When that phone comes out, he turns into the senator. Unless that happens, then no drama.” She bumped her knee against Teddy’s under the table. “Eat before your breakfast gets cold.”

  Teddy appeared to relax, then tucked into her breakfast. “If I stay here much longer, I’m going to have to start running again.”

  “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” her dad said, closing the door behind him.

  “Boots, damn it.” Pop pointed to the wet dirt clinging to his son’s barn boots. “Outside on the porch. Then you sweep up that dirt you tracked in, or I’ll tell Lynn who did it.”

  Britt had to smile as her dad scampered out the door to take off his boots, then dutifully took the broom and dustpan that Pop handed him and began sweeping up the mud he’d tracked in.

  Teddy chuckled. “It’s clear who runs the show in this house.”

  Pop widened his eyes in mock fear. “That woman was a drill sergeant for fifteen years. She can make your life miserable if you don’t toe the line.”

  Her father reentered the kitchen in socked feet. “As any good drill sergeant should,” he said. He went to the coffee station for his own mug of coffee, then heaped a plate with food from the stove before joining them. “Is that Mysty I saw in the paddock?” He looked at Britt as he reached for the butter.

  “Yeah. Her breeding didn’t take this year. We might be looking to rehome her.”