When Becky finally comes to she finds herself up to her neck in water again, but this time it's blessedly hot. A pair of hands are efficiently yet gently scrubbing her with soap, just like her mom used to do when she was a baby. She finds it kinda soothing.
Then more hot water pours down on her head, making her splutter. "Wha-" she coughs, her throat raw. "What happened?"
Penny grins at her, bright and bubbly as always. "Oh, you're awake. That's terrific! Mac's been so worried about you. I practically had to tear you away from him so you'd have the privacy to get your nasty wet stuff off before getting in the bath. He's not used to having a young woman around, you see, even though he was married to that silly Ellen for a while-"
God, it hurts to talk. "Penny," she rasps.
"Oh, sorry! Some really awful kids threw you in the river. You probably would've drowned for real if a nice boy named Luke hadn't seen you in time. Took him, Jack and Sergeant Olson to finally rescue you. How are you feeling, by the way?"
"Still cold." There seems to be an icy core inside the heat isn't touching yet. Some of the water is drained out, then more runs in that's fresher and hotter than before. It takes a while longer before she finally stops shivering and begins to relax. Then she's helped out of the tub, dried off, then put into her warmest pajamas. Surprisingly, Penny displays nothing of her usual clumsiness the whole time.
There's a knock on the door. "Hey, everything all right in there?"
"We're fine, Mac. She's awake, all nice and clean."
He scoops Becky up into his arms as soon as the door opens, murmuring reassurances- as much to himself as to her, she thinks- as he carries her and tucks her into bed. It's warm and she's glad of it, for once out of the small, steam-filled room the air's really cold in comparison.
Once the quilts are wrapped around her kindly old Dr. Ingqvist appears, the quintessential small-town general practitioner. He checks her out gently yet thoroughly, tutting to himself as he takes her temperature and listens to her breathing.
"Now Mac," she hears Penny say in the hallway, "don't you go worrying about how to pay the doctor or medicine bills, I'll make sure everything's taken care of. And I know Jack won't mind helping out downstairs while you take care of Becky, so don't worry about your coffee shop either."
"Thanks, but you know you don't have to-"
"Of course I do! You've never been paid for all the handyman stuff you do around the theater, so why don't we call this even. Besides, I like her; she's real sweet, and so good for you. You really shouldn't be by yourself without someone to love, you know. And- gosh, look at the time! I'd better hurry or I'll be late for rehearsal. Tell Becky I'll see her later, okay? Bye!"
Mac's still shaking his head as he enters her bedroom. "So what's the news, doc?"
"A minor concussion I think, though the skull doesn't seem to be broken. And I'm sure you've noticed the fever, pneumonia's a real likelihood. I'll prescribe some antibiotics, but she needs a lot of care and rest over the next few weeks to fully recover."
He turns back to her. "You're going to be very sick for a while, young lady. It isn't anything that can't be cured by time and patience, but it won't be very pleasant, either. Can I count on your cooperation?"
"Yes, sir," she whispers.
"Good girl. Now take these pills." He produces two capsules and a glass of water.
She swallows them, grimacing at the taste, and drinks. Whatever's in the medicine must be pretty strong, for soon the throbbing pain in her head begins to recede, along with her alertness.
Just as she's about to go under she feels the gentle press of Mac's lips against her forehead. "Glad you're home, sweetheart. Sleep well."
Glad to be home, she thinks. Safe. Warm. Loved.
Becky closes her eyes and lets the healing darkness take her away.
She wakes later to the soft strumming of a guitar. The room's still dark, though daylight slants in through shuttered blinds.
"Haven't heard you play in ages, Unc." A whisper is all she can mange, her throat hurts so much.
Mac moves to sit beside her, tenderly pushing hair away from her forehead. "Hey, Becky. How're you feeling?"
"Tired. Cold. Head hurts. Everything hurts."
He smiles sadly. "Yeah, I'll just bet."
"What time's it?"
"About two in the afternoon." A wry smile. "You're not much of a morning person, you know that? I mean, I know you're a night-owl and like sleeping in and all that, but this is something else."
She groans. "Please, Unc. I'm not in a mood for your jokes right now."
"Sorry." He gently caresses her cheek. "You gave me quite a scare, you know," he admits softly, "when Jack brought you into the shop."
"Now I'm sorry."
"Don't be. Doc Ingqvist stopped by earlier, says he's not surprised, you wearing yourself out like that; sometimes it happens in a life-or-death situation. He says you're gonna be sick and tired for a while longer. Jack swung by the drugstore and picked up some meds he wanted you to take." He holds up two amber-colored plastic bottles. "In fact, you're due for your next dose now, if you're up to it." He helps her to sit up just enough to swallow the pills with more water.
"You've been up here the whole time?"
"Yeah. Peace and quiet. Makes for a nice change."
"Who's minding the shop?"
"Jack. He's being amazingly diligent about it, too. Though in between serving he's boasting to everyone who comes in about how he went and saved you from an icy grave."
Becky groans. "Course he is. I bet the town gossips are having a field day."
"Yeah, but in a good way. The place is busier now than it has been in a long time, since everyone wants to know how you're doing. You wouldn't believe the number of tuna or hamburger hot dishes that have already been brought over, just so I don't have to cook."
"Hot dishes. Casseroles, you mean. Lovely." She yawns.
"Getting sleepy again?"
"Yeah."
He settles her carefully back against the pillows, kissing her forehead. "Anything else I can do?"
"Play for me?"
Mac smiles. "Whatever my princess wishes."
Soft guitar music follows her back into sleep.
