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First of all, I am way behind on my responses...I have been spending the last few days working extra hard on getting some important chapters written and fixed to perfection...at least I hope they are. ha ha. So if I have not responded to you yet...wait for it...I'll be playing catch up on answering reviews this weekend.
I promise.
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High-five to all those who spotted my story, Siren of the Sea, making a guest appearance! I just couldn't help myself. ha ha. If you ever see a reference to another one of my stories, make a mention of it in a review, and you can win a snippet card!
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Now...on with the show!
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Chapter 21
~X~
The evening had indeed gone well, with Erik and Christine sharing their meal in the dining room as they ate their pork chops amid friendly conversation. His wife was eager for any and all news about her father, and Erik did his best to offer her as much information as he could without revealing exactly what he had talked about. That was to be kept private between him and Charles for the foreseeable future.
After dinner they had taken their places on the sofa once more to watch a movie. And while Christine had insisted that it was his turn to pick the title, Erik made sure he chose one he knew would interest her. When the credits finally rolled up the screen, and his lovely little wife attempted to suppress a yawn, he had escorted her up to bed, tucking her in gently before rounding to his side and slipping in beside her. All in all, it was what Erik would call a very pleasant and productive day. He drifted off to sleep, fervently hoping that there would be many more days such as these to come.
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Unfortunately the following day turned out to be decidedly different. While Christine seemed to have awakened with a renewed sense of vigor, Erik was battling a headache from the moment he opened his eyes. After showering and getting dressed, he only wished to get to work and lock himself away in his office, eager to be alone so he could remove his blasted mask.
Claiming that he had a lot of work to attend to, he chose to skip breakfast and headed directly to the garage, deciding to drive himself, instead of waiting for Gerald to bring the limo around. Erik was almost out the door when he heard a quiet voice from behind him.
"Have a nice day, Erik," Christine offered, appearing somewhat confused by his out of character sullenness and rush to leave.
Erik stopped and released a sigh of regret. He had been so wrapped up in his own troubles that he had completely ignored Christine, not even taking the time to make her breakfast like he normally did.
This would simply not do!
"Forgive me, my dear," he begged, turning back to face her. "I have been quite rude all morning, and my behavior has been inexcusable. Would you like me to fix you something to eat? Some coffee perhaps?"
"Erik, you don't have to wait on me hand and foot. I'm feeling much better and it's obvious that you're in a hurry this morning," she pointed out.
"Yet, you are my wife, and it is my duty to see that you receive the utmost attention," he argued, willing to set his briefcase down right then and don an apron in order to prove his point.
"I can fix my own breakfast," she assured him with a smile, coming forward and reaching up to straighten the collar of his shirt, which was uncharacteristically askew. "You go to work and don't worry about me. Just…well, play nice with the other kids, and don't run with scissors."
Erik could not help but laugh at her odd request, finding her whimsical farewell and touch very appealing. Suddenly, even his headache and the painful burning of his skin were lessened by the knowledge that he had this heavenly creature to come home to. Perhaps today would not be such a terrible one after all.
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Again, Erik was wrong.
Not only did the throbbing in his head increase, but so did his irritability. By noon he had reached his limits, and when Antoinette threw up her hands in defeat and stormed from his office, he knew he should probably just give up and go home. Yet, due to his irritated skin, Erik instead locked his office door, shut the blinds and removed his mask, leaning his head back against his chair as he shut his eyes.
He figured he must have fallen asleep at some point, yet the short rest had done little to improve his temperament or condition. In fact if anything, he felt worse. He had a light sheen of sweat from his forehead to his neck, his palms felt clammy and there was an annoying tickle in his throat. When Erik attempted to rise, all his muscles ached, making him feel like he had fought bare fisted with several brutal opponents – and sadly, he recalled what the was like from personal experience. What was wrong with him?
After sitting there for at least another half an hour, Erik finally decided that he needed to go home. Yet the thought of driving himself both dismayed and worried him. Just the idea of putting forth the effort required to maneuver a car seemed exhausting, not to mention dangerous and foolhardy. So, without bothering to consider the amount of ribbing he might receive from his Persian friend, Erik quickly phoned Amir, telling him that he needed to be picked up.
Oh, he felt miserable!
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Christine, who had begun to get cabin fever, decided it was time to get outside and take another short walk in the beautiful spring weather. She was just heading back towards the house when she thought she heard the sound of a car in the front driveway. Thinking that perhaps Erik had come home early, she turned towards the back patio doors and made her way inside.
She was quickly alerted to the fact that it was not just Erik alone, for she could hear him speaking with someone else as she made her way through the house.
"Here is fine!" she heard Erik grumble. "Just leave me alone and be gone!"
"So this is the thanks I get for driving your sorry hide all the way home? Being forced to listen to your constant criticism; telling me I was either going too fast or too slow, braking too quickly or not hard enough?" Amir barked back, apparently at the end of his patience with his masked employer. "How does Gerald even put up with you?"
"What's going on here?" Christine asked, stepping into the entertainment room to find Amir standing in front of the sofa with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. She could not see Erik, but she knew he had to be there somewhere, since she had heard his voice. "Where's Erik?"
Her question was answered by a hand being raised over the back of the sofa, alerting her to his current position. Quickly she came around to the front, only to find her usually strong and vertical husband lying prone on the couch, his eyes shut and a frown gracing his lips.
"He's sick and won't admit it," Amir informed her, in a none too sympathetic tone.
"I am not!" came his gruff reply.
"Erik?" she questioned, kneeling down beside him as she placed her hand against his lower jaw and neck. Sure enough, he was running a fever, not to mention sweating and shivering all at the same time. Looking back up at Amir, Christine asked, "How long has he been like this?"
"Like what…irritable, argumentative, cantankerous, and just plain bossy? For as long as I've had the misfortune of knowing him!" the Persian responded, glaring down at the man on the sofa. When Christine cleared her throat, Amir glanced over at her, and seeing the concerned look in her eyes, he quickly changed his tune. "Oh, you meant ill? Well, I'd say it's been manifesting itself all day, if his employees' appearance was any indication. I bet he's been biting their heads off for most of the morning and afternoon."
"I am not sick!" Erik interjected, daring to open one eye, but quickly shutting it as the glaring sun only aggravated his headache. "And if I did yell at anyone today, you can rest assured they deserved it!"
"Thankfully, it's Friday and they'll have the whole weekend to recover, hopefully forgetting what a tyrant they work for and be willing to come back on Monday," was Amir's less than kind reply. "And if I were you, I'd follow the strict rules you made Christine adhere to, and get yourself well over the next few days. Because, trust me, no one wants to be around you when you're this insufferable."
"Then why are you still here?" Erik asked, suddenly breaking out into a series of coughs, each one causing a slight rattle in his upper chest. "Just go back to your cave and let me die in peace."
"No one is dying here!" Christine exclaimed, cutting in on the pointless argument.
"He might, if he does not leave!" Erik countered, pointing his finger in Amir's general direction, not bothering to even open his eyes this time to deliver his threat.
"Oh, don't worry, I'm going! But only because I don't want to catch your cold," Amir told him. "Although with as many times as you sneezed on the way home, I'm going to have to disinfect my car!" He rolled his eyes and gave Christine a sympathetic look. "I wish you luck, for he's one stubborn and unbearable patient, I can attest to that! Call me if you need anything…like a tranquilizer gun!" And with one final glaring look towards the man on the couch, Amir exited the room. The sound of the front door opening and closing soon after telling Christine he had indeed left.
"Erik…do you feel strong enough to walk upstairs and get into bed?" she asked, praying that he would answer in the affirmative, since her only other recourse was to enlist Gerald's assistance.
At any other time, the idea of Christine inviting him up to their bedroom would have set Erik's mind and body aflame, but since it already felt like it was on fire, it had little effect.
"Of course I can," he mumbled, never one to admit defeat. "I am simply overly tired today. I am not ill, as that asinine Persian claims, and I can easily walk up a simple flight of stairs."
"Good," she nodded, accepting him at his word and not wishing to argue the fact.
Christine stood up and offered him her hand to assist in his rising, but Erik either ignored it, or simply did not notice, and used both his arms to push himself into a sitting position. There he stayed for a few moments before gathering enough strength to force himself to his feet. At first, Erik was feeling rather proud of himself over this, yet suddenly he began to sway. Before he could completely lose his balance, Christine grabbed his hand and steadied him by wrapping her arm around his waist. This was the most physical contact she had ever offered of her own free will, thus far, and even as incapacitated as he was, Erik took a few moments to enjoy the feeling.
"How about I help you just a little?" Christine offered, looking up at him hopefully. Apparently she was a bit skeptical about his claims of being able to do it all himself.
"Maybe a bit of assistance would not go amiss," he admitted, mostly unwilling to relinquish her touch, more than truly needing her help. Or so he told himself.
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And so they did indeed make their way up the stairs, Erik leaning on Christine for support, and she doing her best to keep him from falling down. When they reached the room, he sat on the side of the bed with a groan, wanting nothing more than to just lie down and make the world stop spinning. He had never been ill before, at least not that he could recall. In pain, yes – injured, more times than he could count – but never sick! This was humiliating.
"Here, let me help you take off your shoes," he heard Christine offer, his eyes opening wide as he watched her kneel down in front of him and untie his patent leather shoes and slip them off. "I think it would be best if you got into your night clothes as well, it will make sleeping much more comfortable. Can you do it yourself…or…do you need help?"
Erik recalled that was the same question he had asked her when she was in this position. And while the wicked side of him wanted to tell her yes, that he did need her aid, he knew she had only offered out of the kindness of her heart – not from a true desire to do so.
"No…I will change in the washroom," he informed her, struggling to rise as he staggered into the other room and shut the door.
This time it was Christine who was left on the other side, waiting and wondering when he would emerge, all the while worried that she might suddenly hear a loud thump, indicating that he had fallen down or passed out. She gave a sigh of relief when he exited at last, dressed in his dark pajamas and cloth sleeping mask, looking even more tired than before. Apparently removing one's clothes requires a lot of effort, using up strength Erik did not have in abundance.
Taking him by the arm, Christine quickly steered him towards the bed, easing him down and forcing him to lie back as she pulled the covers over him.
"Would you like me to call Dr. Mills?" she asked, knowing that this was what he had done for her.
"God, no!" he groaned. "I can't afford another house call from that blood sucking vampire."
"What?" Christine asked. "I don't understand."
"Nothing…don't worry about it, and don't call him. In fact, don't call anyone. Just let me lie here…I will be better soon," he insisted, his voice sounding a bit gravelly as he spoke.
"I still have quite a bit of the medicine Dr. Mills gave me, would you be willing to take some?" Christine questioned. She knew that sharing prescription medication was not wise, but it was not like it was for a specific disease or malady…it was for a simple cold, so what could it hurt? "It'll make you feel better," she said in a tempting voice.
"Fine," Erik huffed, willing to try anything that might stop the pounding in his head. If this was how Christine had felt, he now had a new respect for his delicate wife. How had she survived?
She quickly returned with a little cup, filled to the top with the pretty pink liquid, and assisted Erik to rise so he could swallow it properly. Once he had, Christine set it aside and stood by the bed, looking worried.
"Would you like a drink? Some water, warm tea, or perhaps orange juice?" she offered. "With a fever like that, you're going to sweat out a lot of your fluids, so it would be wise to start replenishing them now."
"Whatever you suggest," he nodded, his eyes closed and barely awake, willing to do anything she said just as long as she would let him sleep. He was feeling very tired and fading fast.
"I'll be right back," she assured him, hurrying from the room to fetch him a glass of something.
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As Christine filled a tray with several choices, including orange and apple juice, herbal tea, some butter, biscuits, and strawberry jam, she worried over Erik's condition. Had he caught the cold from her? Was all his attentiveness when she was sick now being rewarded by his falling ill himself? That was hardly fair.
"Well, if that's the case, and I'm to blame, then it's only right that I care for him like he did for me!" Christine told herself as she headed out of the kitchen. Just as she did, however, the door opened, almost causing her to spill the contents of the tray all over the floor.
"Christine!" Mrs. Murphy sputtered, reaching out to steady the girl as she regained her balance. "What is all this?"
"Erik has apparently caught my cold," she explained. "I have him tucked in bed and am taking him something to drink, and maybe to eat, if he gets hungry."
"Oh, dear!" she muttered. "Mr. Thorn is difficult enough when healthy, I can only imagine what he's like when under the weather."
"Well…I believe I'm about to find out," Christine chuckled, thinking back to how irritable her father would get when he was suffering from a cold or the flu. This thought suddenly caused a shiver of fear to run down her spine. The last time her father had become ill, it had turned into something so much more serious! Would Erik's ailment do the same thing? Christine knew it was highly unlikely…and yet, stranger things had happened. Instantly she felt the need to hurry back to Erik's side, to make sure that he was comfortable and had everything he needed to recover quickly. "Could you please whip up another pot of that delicious soup you made for me? I think the warm broth on his throat would do wonders, much more so than just biscuits and jam."
"Certainly. I'll get started on it right away," Mrs. Murphy nodded, taking off her coat and rolling up her sleeves. "You go tend to the boss, and I'll let you know when it's ready."
Thanking the kindly woman, Christine hurried back up the stairs, quietly slipping in the room to find Erik sound asleep. Setting the tray down on the nightstand, she undid the paper wrapping around the bendy-straw she had grabbed, and put it in the cup of warm tea.
"Erik," she whispered, not wishing to startle him. "Erik, I brought you something to drink. Could you please wake up long enough to drink it?"
He mumbled something unintelligible but did indeed raise his head a bit in response to her request. Slipping the straw between his lips he managed to suck down over half of it before falling back against the pillow and returning to his slumber. Christine knew that sleep was truly the best medicine, so she didn't bother him further. Instead, she found the book she had been reading herself while she had been convalescing, pulled her chair closer to the bed, and settled in for the long haul. She would be right here if Erik needed anything.
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Erik was not sure how much time had passed, but from the looks of things, night had fallen while he had slept. He could honestly say he felt a little better, his throat not as painful and his temperature a bit less. He had always had an uncanny ability to see well in the dark, yet for some reason his vision seemed blurry and it felt like he had a bucket of sand in each eye. Turning his head, an action that took a bit of effort, he was surprised to see Christine sitting in the chair beside his bed, her face buried in a book as she strained to read the words using the one small lamp beside the bed. Had she been there all this time?
"Christine?" he called, his voice cracking a little as he did. This small effort brought on a bout of coughing, causing the heavy feeling in his chest to rumble and sputter. Oh, he did not like being sick!
"Erik, you're awake!" she stated, putting the book down and coming over to sit beside him on the bed. She placed her hand on his exposed neck and gave a little smile. "You appear to be cooler, your fever must have finally broken. I told you the medicine would help."
"Thirsty," he croaked, doing his best not to give in to another coughing fit he felt coming on.
Christine was quick with another glass of liquid, this time apple juice, once more courtesy of a bendy-straw. He sipped at it greedily, enjoying how it seemed to not only soothe his scratchy throat, but quieted the cough as well. Once that was done, he lay back down, somewhat exhausted by that meager effort.
"What time is it?" he asked, looking up at her questioningly.
"Almost ten," she replied. "Mrs. Murphy made you some soup before she went home. If you're feeling up to eating, I could heat some up for you. Do you think you could keep it down?"
"I believe so," he nodded, knowing that starving himself would do little to aid his recovery, even if the thought of food did not appeal to him at the moment.
"Wonderful!" This seemed to please Christine greatly, and she quickly headed out the door to fetch the soup.
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Left alone, Erik now had time to think and gather his wits. Being ill was not something he was used to, and it had him at odds. It was like his body was betraying him, though in retrospect, he had never truly been on good terms with his form…especially his face. Still, he would not be defeated by mere germs, and tossing back the covers, he struggled to his feet. After making his way to the restroom, he stripped off his mask and splashed cool water over his irritated skin. The sweat from his fever had only caused it to itch more, and the soothing liquid went a long way in offering relief. Once he was finished Erik removed a fresh sleeping mask from the drawer where he kept them, and secured it in place. Then after using the facilities, he headed back to the bed and crawled inside, giving a sigh of relief as the blankets warmed him back up.
As he sat there waiting for Christine's return, he contemplated the implications of finding her at his side when he woke. If she had indeed stayed there the whole time, did that mean she cared about his welfare…even just a little? The idea made him smile, a warmth spreading over his chest that had nothing to do with his earlier fever. Perhaps she did worry over his health, possibly even concerned for his well-being? Or maybe she had only stayed to repay him for how he had done the same for her. Either way…Erik was not complaining!
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"Here you go," Christine announced as she made her way through the door, the bed tray in her hands. "Warm chicken-noodle soup, courtesy of Mrs. Murphy. Guaranteed to fix you right up."
Erik struggled to sit up, leaning against the headboard as she placed the food in front of him. It looked good, smelled even better, yet his stomach was not as eager to receive it. Still, it was important that he try, and if Christine had taken the time to warm it up, he was not about to turn it away. Slowly, he began to eat, placing many spoonfuls to his lips, even if they were only half full. All the while Christine sat there and watched him, almost as if his actions were somehow entertaining. He wondered if he had appeared as interested in her while she had recovered.
"I'm sorry if you caught this from me," she spoke at last. "If so, it's a crummy reward for all you did to help me get better."
"I do not regret my actions, even if it was the cause of my falling ill," he assured her, finally pushing the rest of the soup away, unable to eat another bite.
Apparently he had made enough of a dent that Christine was satisfied, and she removed the tray and set it over by the door. Returning to her chair she looked at the clock, and then reached for the medicine bottle by the bed.
"It's time for another dose," she announced, filling the little cup and handing it to him with an encouraging smile. Once he finished it, Christine replaced the cap and retrieved a small jar that had been sitting beside it. "If you're willing, and the smell doesn't bother you too much, I think a healthy dose of this rubbed on your chest will help break up that congestion so you can breathe better."
"Mentholatum?" Erik asked, reading the label on the jar questioningly. He had heard of the substance, yet since he never had to deal with sickness before this, he had very little experience with all the different kinds of remedies. "Why? Does it smell foul?"
"Not foul…just strong," Christine explained, trying her best to describe the odor. While it didn't bother her, she knew that some found it repugnant, and she wondered if Erik might as well. Unscrewing the lid she offered it up for him to smell, and while he did jerk back a bit, at least he didn't curl his lips or turn away. "It'll not only help your chest, but the vapors will clear your sinuses as well. You will honestly sleep better if you use it. My father swore by it, not letting either of us go to bed sick without using some."
"What do I need to do?" he asked, still appearing a bit skeptical.
"You just rub it on your throat and upper chest, and then let it do its thing," she explained. Yet, just when he reached out to take hold of the little jar, Christine pulled it back, a frown forming on her face. "However…" she now sounded hesitant and a bit nervous, "if you get it on your hands, you'll have to wash with soap afterwards, otherwise you might rub your eye later and that'll really sting. Do you feel strong enough to get up and do that?"
Erik was about to assure her that he was indeed mobile enough to make it to the restroom to wash the product off once he was done, but her next words caused his own to die on his lips.
"Because if you're not…I suppose that I could…well, you know, do it for you," she offered, a lovely shade of pink staining her cheeks as she spoke.
Well now, suddenly this remedy was looking more and more appealing. Erik no longer cared whether it had any valid medicinal properties, the application alone was enough of an enticement to allow it to be administered!
"Perhaps it might be best if you applied it," he nodded, doing his utmost to sound weak…and not at all excited. "I doubt I would be able to make it there and back so as to remove any of the residue left behind. But only if you truly feel that it would be of benefit to me, I do not wish for you to put yourself out or feel uncomfortable."
"No…I believe it would help you," she insisted, still looking embarrassed, yet willing to forge on for the sake of his health. "You…you'll need to open your shirt just a bit. It would not do to get it all over your night clothes."
Reaching up, Erik quickly undid the first two buttons and pulled the collar back, exposing his chest to his still blushing wife. He had been so distracted by the prospect of her touching him, even if it was only to apply medication, that Erik had completely forgotten what lay beneath, and what he was now revealing to her eyes. At least until he heard her gasp, then he instantly recalled the large, nasty scar running across his breastbone, from one side to the other.
"Erik…what on earth happened?" she asked, her tiny hand reaching out as she gently touched the raised skin with her fingertips.
Damn! Erik thought to himself, this was not the time or place for that story!
ooooooohh, is there a story to tell? How did you get that scar Erik...how? How? HOW?
Well, for those of you who wanted to see Erik catch a cold (because he said he wouldn't) you got your wish. ha ha. And apparently he is NOT a fun sick person. Though, to be honest, until that scar issue came up, he seemed to be enjoying parts of it.
Amir...you and Erik sure have a strange friendship. ha ha. But you crack us up.
Guest Reviews:
Guest: I've kind of given up calling the Wednesday chapter a bonus or an extra by now. ha ha. And I do all the writing myself, but I do have several lovely people who help me edit and fix my typos and spelling mistakes. I have two Beta readers here on line who offer suggestions and catch mistakes, one friend who makes me print every chapter up on PAPER, so she can circle things with her pretty red pen. I also e-mail the chapters to my mother and she texts me back her corrections, and then my husband reads it as my final checker. So...if you find a boo boo...I should give you a prize. ha ha. But things still manage to slip through from time to time. Thanks!
Lex888: Thanks for noticing Siren of the Sea being mentioned. I'm tickled it's your favorite. I mean, how can you go wrong with Erik as a pirate? Thanks.
Guest C: I know, RIGHT? I'm sure Charles found it very stimulating. ha ha. And no...no one would have noticed ANY similarities...since this is fiction, and I won't let that happen. ha ha. Erik is finding that unburdening himself is easier than he though...granted he is telling a man who can't say a word back to him or pass judgement...yet! And I really can't see Erik on a couch telling someone all about his mother. ha ha. Christine's text really made his day! Thanks.
Kristin: Yep, Erik really wants Charles to like him...not that it would make any difference, he would still get Christine, but it would make family vacations a lot more comfortable. ha ha. I had been asked, and thought about writing some from Charles' point of view, but right now with Erik confessing things that YOU should not know just yet, and certainly not Christine, it would be best if his thoughts stayed his own until much later in the story. Sorry. But undoubtedly you will learn some of what he has been thinking thus far...later. Thanks.