"Let me," Sam says, reaching for the thermometer after he's turned it around twice. "Just over a hundred."
Andrew frowns. "How much over?"
"Quarter of a degree." Sam points. He keeps frowning, but she's too tired to argue. She puts the thermometer down, then shifts the cushion under her elbow to hold the hot water bottle closer against the sore spot on her side.
"I can bring you another…"
"Andrew. Any more pillows and there'll be no room in the bed for me." She nudges him through the bedclothes. "What you ought to do is put the baby here by me, and go to work."
He glances over to the Moses basket, visibly relaxing when he sees the baby still soundly asleep, then shakes his head. "Wouldn't get anything done."
"I'm…" she stops herself in time and finishes, "feeling so much better this morning." The very worst quarrel they'd had, in the first year they were married, was after she said I'm going to be fine and he shouted you can't know that. "The sulfa pills work awfully fast."
"Good." He starts and looks at the clock. "Oh, damn, you should have the next…"
"Not until ten. And you could just leave them here, you know, I can keep track."
"No, you're meant to rest."
Sam flops back on the pillows. "I am resting. I'm positively worn out with resting."
That does make him grin, though his eyes are still dark. "Well, that's a good start. I'm going to keep you here until you're exhausted with it. Now, do you want the wireless, or the newspaper, or your library book?"
"Book, please, but would you get my comb first? My hair's going to send me mad if I don't do something with it."
He brings the comb, but when she can't hold back a wince as she lifts her left arm, Andrew sits back down on the bed. "Here, let me." He starts from the bottom, very gently.
"No." Sam pushes halfheartedly at him. "You shouldn't get so…"
He smiles properly this time, all the way to his eyes. "You can try, sweetheart, but I don't think you can give me mastitis."
"I suppose not." Sam has to laugh at herself. "Thank you, darling. I'm sorry I'm such a crosspatch." She settles closer to let him work on her hair.
"You're not. Well, just a bit."
Hours later, getting up to change the baby, Sam catches sight of herself in the mirror and giggles aloud at the uneven braids Andrew made. But she leaves them in all the next day, until she can comfortably bend over the basin to wash her hair.