The intercom to the outside door went off. “Pizza delivery.”
Derrick hurried over to it. “Coming down.” He glanced back at Eb and said, “Walt and Linda’s treat.”
“Are you hungry?” Sandra asked, going into organizational mode and opening a cupboard where she knew he kept napkins and paper plates.
“I don’t know if I can eat anything,” Eb said.
“I can cook you some eggs if you think the pizza will be too spicy for your stomach.”
With the paper products, she turned to find Rue resting against Eb’s leg, a hand lightly patting his bandage. He had one eye nearly closed in an almost wince. When he glanced up at Sandra, she mouthed,Does it hurt?Eb shook his head but still looked like he expected it at any moment.
At a knock on the door, she opened it to let Derrick in.
“Looks like Walt—or probably Linda—planned for everything.” He put the large box on the breakfast bar and began to pull things out of it. “There are three pizzas.” The young man lifted the lid on one. “This one’s a dessert pizza. There are cheese sticks, root beer and…” He removed a covered tin. “Salad. You’re set.”
“We’reset,” Sandra corrected. “Unless you have somewhere you have to be.”
“Nope. What do you need me to do?”
“Eb, do you want to try a small piece, or should I make you something else?” When the poor man didn’t look like he could decide, she said, “I’ll scramble an egg. Rue, quit petting his booboo and come eat some dinner.”
Derrick, ever efficient, picked her up and put her in a chair with a booster seat in it, asking her what kind of food she wanted. Sandra made quick work of the egg and brought it to Eb. His head lolled back, and his slow breathing said he was sleeping. She hated to wake him, but he’d have a crick in his neck if he stayed in that position very long.
When she sat beside him on the couch, he stirred, turning his head to look at her through bleary eyes.
“I think your stomach will be happier if you have something in it, but only if you think you can keep it down.” She stabbed the chunk of scrambled eggs with a fork and held it up, her brows raised expectantly. “I’m surprised they didn’t give you an anti-nausea medicine too.”
“There are two bottles here. Let me see what they say.” Derrick put down his pizza, wiped his hands, and lifted one of the bottles. “This one’s a heavy-duty painkiller so this other one… Yeah. This one’s for nausea.”
“When did the doctor say you should start taking the pills?” she asked, still holding the fork.
Eb replied with a yawn, and for a second she thought he was going to tilt over and curl up on the sofa. She used her free hand to give his shoulder a shake.
“Open your mouth.” He did as she told him, and she fed him. “Derrick, can you bring one of the nausea pills and a glass of water?”
“Sure thing.”
“Daddy looks silly.” Rue watched him with affection.
Sandra was grateful the child could see the humor in her father’s condition. It was sad her mother’s being beaten by a boyfriend might have helped to prepare the child for her father getting shot.
* * *
The throbbingin Eb’s arm finally woke him from another violent dream. He decided then he would take up his doctor’s suggestion to seek some counseling.
After using the facilities, he went to the kitchen in search of medication. He vaguely remembered Derrick stashing them in the small cupboard above the stove with the over-the-counter drugs. Someone had also conveniently left on the stove light—and cleaned up the kitchen.
He went with ibuprofen instead of the heavier medication. Maybe he could alternate it every couple of hours with acetaminophen. He hoped the two would work because he didn’t like the way the more powerful painkiller made him feel.
When Eb turned to the breakfast bar to fill his glass in the sink there, his gaze fell on a lump on his couch. Sandra had taken such care to clean up the kitchen he couldn’t see her leaving a blanket unfolded. He swallowed his ibuprofen and put the dirty glass on the counter before making his way to the sofa.
Her long dark hair spread out on one of the sofa cushions, a throw pulled over her shoulders. Why had she stayed? Eb’s little energy was draining, so he gently eased the pillow out from under Sandra’s head and took its place. She barely stirred, reminding him she was still recovering too.
He lifted his feet to the low coffee table. With the pillow behind his head, he closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
When Sandra woke to the feel of a hand resting on her head, she thought at first she was dreaming. But it’d been many years since she’d had a pleasant one with Dom. Not that she wanted any now.
