“Did you bring what I asked for?” he sounds more lucid as he begins to wake up.
“I did,” I say. “But you’re not in any state to work. You need rest.”
He tries to sit up, but his arms shake at the weight of his body, and he collapses back into the pillows.
“I need the files.”
“I’ll wake you in an hour.”
“Amelia, I need to review them.”
“Well, an hour won’t make any difference. I’m going to get you some water. Have you taken any Tylenol?”
He shakes his head. “No, I was going to but I fell asleep.”
“Okay, I’ll get you some food, too. Once you’ve had some pills, your fever should go down, and then I’ll think about giving you the files. I’ll be back.”
I stop as he grips my wrist, his fingers warm against my skin. Crawford’s eyes are unfocused as he looks up at me.
“I need to work.”
“And you will, but you can’t do anything right now. I promise I’ll wake you in a bit.”
He leans back on the pillows and nods as I leave the room.
As I open the door, I think I hear a quiet, “Thanks for coming,” but when I turn back, he’s already fallen asleep again.
About an hour later, I’m sitting on the couch in the living room scrolling on my phone, when I hear shuffling footsteps above me.
“How long was I out?” he asks. The towel I prepared for him is dangling from his neck, and his fingers are white knuckled on the balcony rail.
I stand, watching him nervously as he makes his unsteady way down the staircase.
“Only about an hour, how are you feeling?”
“Like shit. I didn’t ask you to let me sleep, I asked you to bring me my work.”
As he gets to the bottom of the stairs, he stumbles and almost falls headfirst onto the floor. I run to him, offering him my shoulder, and pull him toward the couch.
“Jesus, you’re strong,” he mutters as I deposit him onto the cushions.
I’m used to helping Annabelle get around, and I’m a lot stronger than I look. I touch his forehead, and he flinches but doesn’t pull away.
“Your hands are freezing,” he grumbles.
“Not true. Your head is boiling hot.”
He snorts. “You a doctor now?” he asks.
“You should be in bed.”
“Bring me the files, Amelia.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. I can feel my belligerent side coming out. Annabelle has often said my bedside manner is brisk to the point of rudeness. I’m not sorry though. If someone is sick, the best thing they can do is rest, and it annoys me when people ignore the signals their body is sending them.
It’s easy for me to slip into the role of caretaker and nurse; I’ve been doing it for years.
“You forgot the magic word,” I mutter.
