Standing in my boxer briefs, I reached for the blanket draped on the couch and gave it a pull. But it caught on something. I stepped closer, peering over the back of the couch, surprised to see a sleeping Izzy, wrapped in a few blankets, her hair matted and tangled.
I blinked a few times.
On the other end of the couch lay Nora—also sleeping.
Now, painfully aware of the fact I was in my underwear, I made my way to the hall bathroom and grabbed a towel from underneath the sink. I rubbed it across my dripping hair and face then wrapped it around my waist. I needed a shower.
But, as I made my way to the bedroom side of the cabin, a beautiful sound reached my ears. Soft lamp light filtered through the open door and Hollie’s soft voice singing Laurel’s favorite song.
THIRTY-SIX
Hollie
My hands felt chilly in the bowl of cold water. Cade’s temperature reached a scary degree. 103.1 despite medication. I wasn’t the type to rush to the hospital for that sort of thing—I’d dealt with plenty of fevers—but I did need to bring it down a bit. I’d peeled the covers off Cade and dabbed a cold rag on his forehead, limbs, and chest.
He shivered uncontrollably, but his eyes were open.
I’d been singing to him, too. I wasn’t much of a singer, but Cade didn’t seem to mind.
When I finished the parts I knew of the song he requested,Somewhere Over the Rainbow, a weak smile pulled into his cheeks. His voice croaked, “That was Mama’s favorite song.”
My heart warmed. “Really?”
He nodded, his eyes hazy and his auburn hair mussed.
“It must make you think of her.”
He nodded again. “She had a pretty voice.”
“Why was that her favorite?”
“She liked colors.” His brow knitted like he’d never considered it much. “And rainbows come after rain.”
“That’s true. They do.” I dipped the hot cloth back in the ice water. “Did your mom like rain, too?”
“No one likes rain. But everyone likes rainbows. And…” He coughed several times, unable to continue talking.
“Shhhhh.” I reached forward to help him drink some more juice through a straw and then he laid back on the pillow again, eyes firmly closed. I sang the song for him one more time then rolled the sheet and a light blanket up over his body. I swiped the thermometer over his forehead. 101.4. I could live with that.
Leaning down, I kissed his sweet forehead, surprised by the strength of my love for this child. Certain he fell asleep, I backed out of his room into the dimly lit hallway and gently clicked the door shut behind me. Then I turned and collided with Jesse’s bare chest.
I gasped, slapping a hand over my lips and his hands captured my elbows. “I’m so sorry!”
Then I realized he was in a towel. And his skin glistened with rain? Or sweat? Whatever it was, I couldn’t lift my eyes past his collarbone. For a long moment—too long a moment—I let myself soak him in. The shallow ridges along his torso, his bulging arms, his broad shoulders, the way that towel clung to his hips for dear life.
Goodness, did I have a fever, too?
Summoning manners from the soles of my feet, I dragged my eyes to his face to find tears streaking down his cheeks.
My mouth fell open. “You’re crying! Are you okay?”
His hands, still on my elbows, squeezed and pulled me a little closer. Heat radiated from his body as he leaned down to look me in the eye. “Her song,” his voice scraped. “You were singing her song.”
My shoulders dropped. “Cade asked me to. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
Jesse laid a warm finger over my lips. “Don’t.” He drew a ragged breath. “That was the most beautiful sound…this cabin has ever heard.”
Relief hit my chest like an arrow. Thank goodness.
