Sophie patted his chest. “Okay, okay, no need to get so melodramatic.”
“Let’s get you dressed and I’ll check your monitor so we can eat.”
She nodded, but by the time he settled her into their king-sized bed, she slumped against the pillows and waved away his offering for food.
“You need to eat, Sophie.”
“I’m too hot to eat.”
Jamie stroked her cheek. Her skin was beaded with sweat. “I’m calling Kelly.”
“Seriously?”
Their neighbor, Kelly Souter, was a registered nurse who’d been a wealth of information and comfort since Sophie’s diagnosis. Jamie picked up the phone and dialed her number. “Hi, Kelly, it’s Jamie. Sophie’s fever seems to have spiked again. I’m not sure what to do.”
“I just pulled into the driveway. I’ll grab my bag and be over in few.”
Jamie let out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. The door’s unlocked—just come on in.” After hanging up the phone, he poured a glass of water for Sophie. “Drink this, baby.”
She took the glass from him and sipped. “I probably just need some Tylenol.”
“Perhaps. Let’s wait for Kelly and then go from there.”
Sophie groaned. “That poor woman must have a life outside of me, Jamie.”
“Well, I don’t.” He forced a smile. “So humor me.”
Before she could protest further, they heard the slam of the front door and then footsteps on the stairs. “Yoo-hoo.”
“Up here, Kelly,” Jamie called.
Kelly walked through the door, her shoulder-length brunette hair slipping over her cheeks as she set her bag on the bed. “Hi. Does someone have a fever?”
Sophie’s eyes flashed with mischief as she smiled. “Next you’ll be asking me how we’re feeling.”
Kelly opened her bag and pulled out a thermometer. “How are we feeling?”
“Everyone’s a comedian today.”
“You know the drill.” Kelly pushed the thermometer between Sophie’s lips.
Sophie mumbled something.
“Ten-Cow, shhh,” Jamie admonished at Sophie’s attempt to talk.
“She’s doing fine. And you should probably stop calling her a cow. She’s well below her normal body weight.” Kelly pulled the thermometer from Sophie’s mouth.
Sophie met his eyes, a sweetness in them that could always render his heart liquid in his chest. “Oh, he can call me Ten-Cow.” She winked at him.
“Really?”
“It’s a romantic story of undying love,” Sophie said. “Tell her, Jamie.”
“Undying love, huh? Does that even exist?” Kelly’s arched brow popped in question.
“I’m going to be sick.” Sophie sat up suddenly.
Jamie grabbed a bowl and held it under her chin.
“Give her some Tylenol and then call the doctor.” Kelly’s eyebrows puckered.
Jamie felt the color leave his face. “Is it serious?”
Kelly shook her head with a gentle smile. “Honestly, I think it’s just the flu, like the doctor said yesterday. The Milrinone drip is at the dosage set, her pic line is working, and the LVAD is doing its job, so her lethargy is because of the fever. The antibiotics will kick in soon and she’ll probably feel better in the next day or two.”
Jamie stroked Sophie’s cheek.
“I’m fine, Jamie.” Sophie turned to Kelly. “Thanks for checking on me.”
Kelly patted her hand. “It’s my pleasure, Sophie. Call me if you need me. Even if it’s the middle of the night. You can tell me the story later.” Jamie stood but Kelly held her hand up. “I’ll let myself out. Tylenol, cold compresses, doctor, and she should be good as new.”
Jamie nodded. “Thanks.”
Once Kelly left, Jamie gathered the Tylenol and a cool washcloth. He waited until Sophie took the pills and then sat beside her.
“Jamie? You need to stop worrying. The LVAD is doing its job and tomorrow I’ll be monitored constantly by people who know more than you and me.”
He frowned. “Sophie, your immune system is lowered and you’re weak. I can’t help but worry.”
She squeezed his arm. “Okay. I can’t make you not worry, but there are people who live for years with this device. I’d have been dead within weeks without it, and now I’m 1A status, guaranteed the next matching heart.”
“If your flu goes away.”
Sophie sighed. “It will.”
The peal of Jamie’s cell phone interrupted their discussion and he glanced at the screen with a scowl. He answered the call, leaning back in the chair with a sigh. “Hey Brian.”
“Hey Jamie. We got push back from the Cary camp.”
Jamie shook his head. “So? I’m not taking money from them. Get legal involved if you have to.”
“It’s a lot of money,” Brian argued.
“I don’t care if it’s all the money in the world, it’s not worth it.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll talk to the lawyers.”
“Thanks. I have to go.” Jamie hung up before Brian could respond.
Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Someone wants to give you money?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”
“Everything okay?”
Jamie nodded. “Yes. Brian’s just having a difficult time without me there to hold his hand.”
Sophie smiled. “If you need to go into the office after you get me settled tomorrow, you can. I’ll be fine.”
“Not going to happen.” He reached for his guitar.
Sophie chuckled. “Ah, yes, the other woman. Will you play me a lullaby—provided she doesn’t mind, of course.” She smoothed her blankets and gazed at him.
“Well, Ten-Cow, that depends on you.” He paused, the hollow sound echoing through the chamber of the guitar as he tapped his hand against it. “One song for two bites of food, that’s the deal.”
Sophie sighed through tight lips. “I’ll take a bit of the orange.”
Handing her a wedge, he waited for her to eat it, and started to play quietly. Sophie hummed along with the melody, and Jamie paused, mid-strum. “I miss your voice.”
Sophie smiled. “I miss singing.”
Jamie reached over to the nightstand and opened the drawer.
“What are you doing?”
Jamie grinned. “I’m reminiscing.” He pulled out an old playbill from the production of Grease she’d starred in. “You were the perfect Sandy.”
Sophie chuckled. “If only you could have been my Danny.”
Jamie snorted. “I’m not going to justify that statement with a remark.”
Sophie rolled over and wrinkled her nose. “Well, you would have been better than Justice Wright.”
Jamie shrugged. “He seemed okay. He played the role well.”
“You try kissing a gay man and make it look real.”
Jamie laughed. He leaned over and kissed her quickly, before handing her another wedge of orange. “That should settle your stomach enough to eat something substantial.” Sophie rolled her eyes and Jamie responded with a raised eyebrow in challenge. “You’re gonna eat, Ten-Cow.”
Sophie scrunched her nose up in disgust. “I’m not hungry.”
“You have to strengthen your body in order to fight—”
“The infection that will tax my failing heart even more,” she interrupted and slid further under the blankets. “I know, Jamie but my heart’s gonna stop whether I eat or not. Daddy’s did and I couldn’t make him live.”
Jamie froze, a quiet hiss escaping between his teeth.
“Sorry, baby,” Sophie whispered. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Jamie shook his head. “It’s fine.”
She smiled. “Will you put on Rayne’s album please?”
Sophie was absolutely obsessed with Rayne Green’s music. The pop star was the most talented woman alive (in Sophie’s opinion) and was a staple in the Ford house.
“Sure, baby,” Jamie said, and found
the playlist on her iPod, connecting it to the speakers on the dresser. He kept the volume low as he sat back down.
Sophie shifted on her pillows. “I just remembered a weird dream I had about one of our reenactments.”
“Really?”
“Do you remember the haunted house?”
Jamie laughed. “Not haunted, simply a case of faulty wiring.”
“Right. Go with that.”
Three years ago, Sophie had taken part in a Civil War event that was filled with mishaps. Little things like a power surge that caused a television, hidden behind an antique painting, to turn on. “Your team had fun explaining the noise coming from behind the artwork. Didn’t one of the old ladies faint?” Cradling the guitar on his knees, Jamie picked up the fork again, speared a small piece of potato, and lifted it to her mouth.
She shook her head. “That was Miss Olive. I personally thought it was a stroke of pure genius on her part to fake a swoon. She distracted people until we could shut off the breaker.”
“Sophie, you need to eat.”
“I’m too hot to eat.” She pushed the blankets away from her body.
Jamie helped pull the blankets further down the bed. “Imagine you in the nineteenth-century without air conditioning. God forbid the temperature went above seventy degrees and you’re stuck in a gown like Mary Lincoln’s.” Jamie leaned over her and settled his palm on her forehead. Sophie winced and let out a quiet moan. “Are you in pain?”
“No, just feel sick. And hot.” Sophie reached for his hand. “I’m fine, Jamie. Really. I just need to sleep.”
Jamie watched her eyes close and her breathing grow even. Taking Sophie’s frail hand in his, he stroked her arm. “Remember when we met? The frat party. I’ll never forget the moment I saw you. You were yelling at some frat guy who’d just slapped your butt, explaining the pitfalls of displaying chauvinism in your presence. I wondered if you were a law student.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the inside of her wrist, drawing in her scent. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You were pissed, and it made me hot. I’d never seen anyone put someone in their place the way you did that guy.”
The headlights of a car flashed through the window as it drove by, illuminating the room and drawing shadows across the wall. “I knew I had to meet you.” Jamie squeezed her hand. “When we talked, I felt like my life had just started and there was no way you weren’t going to be in it. I knew you’d be mine—forever.” He couldn’t continue. Tears escaped as he laid his head down, her hand still in his, and closed his eyes.
* * *
Sophie’s eyelids felt like lead weights. She wanted to wake up, needed to. The bedroom grew cold, despite the roaring fire in the corner. Sophie tried to get her bearings, forcing her eyes open. Her gaze fell on the shelf that held her favorite Lincoln biography, and she stared in disbelief. The wood grain faded away, becoming the trunk of a very large tree. Beyond the tree, all she saw was an expanse of snow and forest.
Sophie squeezed her eyes shut and then looked again. The books and shelves were back. Sophie’s focus pulled back to Jamie, but as she stared down at him, the sheets melted away, becoming a mound of fresh snow. Her body frozen, Sophie shivered, and then the bed was back. She tried to force her body to move again, but couldn’t reach the blankets. Sophie’s head fell back onto the pillow.
The ceiling disappeared. White sky met her gaze; drops of cold water feathered her face. She shivered again and glanced back down at Jamie. He lay still next to her, his hand covering hers. Her vision blurred.
I’m hallucinating. This must be what happens with a raging fever. Jamie, wake up. I need you.
Sophie’s heart stuttered and pain coursed through her chest.
No, not hallucinating. Dying! Am I dying?
The snow returned and she tried to reach out to the strange vision. Before she could do anything else, the room spun, and her world went black.
* * *
Jamie jerked awake at Sophie’s shiver. Leaning over the bed, he put his hand to her mouth, then her cheek, and relief slicked through him as heat bloomed against his skin.
“Sophie? Honey, wake up.” His voice shook as he whispered her name again. Her shaking worsened, and he pulled the covers to her shoulders, just as he heard the front door slam.
“Jamie!” Emma called from the foyer. “I’m home.”
Jamie jogged down the hall and peered down from the landing. “Up here.”
Emma’s straight blonde hair slid behind her shoulders as she lifted her head. Deep blue eyes so much like her sister’s narrowed in concern as she peered up at him. “You sound weird, what’s wrong?”
“Sophie’s fever spiked, and now she’s shaking. She’s freezing.”
Emma took the stairs two at a time. “Did you give her anything?”
“Yes, Tylenol. I don’t know if it’s helping though.”
Emma ran to the bedroom as Jamie grabbed a couple of blankets from the hallway closet and followed her. “Emma?” Jamie scanned the room and found her standing over the empty bed holding Sophie’s LVAD wires. Wait—empty? His heart raced.
“Where is she?” Jamie moved to the side of the bed and ran his hands over the sheets.
Emma dropped the wires. “I don’t know. Did you see her leave the room?”
“It would have been impossible.”
Emma grasped his shoulders and turned him to face her. “Did you check the bathroom? She probably just went to splash water on her face.”
Jamie pushed her hands away. “Check downstairs.” Without waiting for Emma to agree, he ran through the upper floor, yelling Sophie’s name. He lingered in each room just in case she might appear at his call.
Emma met him back in his bedroom. “She’s not downstairs... or in the basement.”
Jamie pulled at the sheets on the empty bed and dropped to his knees, shaking hands digging into his scalp. “Where is she? Where is my wife?”
* * *
If you like the sneak peek of The Bride Price, you can download it HERE!
About the Authors!
Photo courtesy of Red Letter Days Photography
Piper Davenport is the alter ego of NY Times Bestselling author, Tracey Jane Jackson. Piper has been happily married and gooey in love with her author husband, Jack Davenport, for over twenty years. They live in the Pacific Northwest with their two sons.
I hope you’ve enjoyed Throw Dylan from the Train
For information about my other titles, please visit:
www.piperdavenport.com
Find me on Facebook and Twitter, too!
* * *
Harley Stone writes mafia romance and funny as shit romantic fiction. When she’s not writing, she's busy living out her real adventure in southwest Washington with her husband and their five boys.
For information about my other titles, please visit:
www.harleystoneauthor.com
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Throw Dylan from the Train (S.A.F.E. Detective Agency) Page 21
