David walked into the apartment after school as Mrs. Jacobs poured a bowl of soup.
"She's got a long road ahead of her," the doctor said to Mr. Jacobs. "But she's on her way to recovery. The more you can give her this to sleep, the better." He handed Mr. Jacobs a small bottle. "Two drops with a glass of water. It'll make the recovery easier."
Mr. Jacobs nodded. "Thank you, Doctor."
The doctor nodded and walked out the door.
"Hi, son," said Mr. Jacobs, putting his hand on David's shoulder.
"Can I see her?" he asked.
Mr. Jacobs nodded. "I think that might be a good idea."
David walked into the bedroom and the sight of Charlotte stopped him in his tracks. Her face was nearly as pale as the pillow she rested on. Her face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but she was shivering slightly.
"Oh, Charlotte," he whispered.
"Hi David." She could talk no louder than a whisper.
David walked over and sat in the chair next to the bed. He swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked away the stinging sensation that often preceded tears.
He put on a hopeful grin for her sake. "You're looking better."
Charlotte gave him an appreciative grin for his efforts. "I certainly don't feel it."
David nodded and bowed his head for a moment. He looked up at her once more. "You're tellin' me you have no qualms about punching Peter in the nose, but you're gonna let a little withdrawal get you down?"
Charlotte chuckled hoarsely. "I'm sorry I'll miss your first day back to school."
"I'll bring you the notes."
"I appreciate it," she gave him a small grin. "I'm sorry, David," she said and her grin faded. "These past few days, I've had the chance to think about the past few months." She paused and looked down at her hands. "I hurt you. I know that. And…I can't tell you how much I regret that. How sorry I am."
"We all make mistakes."
Charlotte shook her head. "Stop being so nice because I'm…like this," she said. "If I hadn't nearly died, you wouldn't be talking to me. And rightfully so."
"Charlotte…"
"It's true. I made a lot of mistakes these past few months. Going with Spot wasn't one of them, but I definitely should have…gone about it differently."
"Like not running away?"
Charlotte smirked wryly. "That. And bringing him home to meet Aunt Mae and Uncle Ben."
David just nodded, not knowing what to say.
"Please don't pull punches just because I'm sick," she said.
David sighed. "Okay. Ever since I met you, I wanted to court you. Not just have you around like Spot did, but do it the right way. Take you to a matinee, dinner at Tibby's…picnics in the park, and walks around town."
David saw her eyes fill with tears.
"But by the time I got up my courage, you were with Spot. And by the time you and him were on the outs, and I thought I had a chance…you'd be back together again with Spot. I know you and I had some harsh words, but I really just wanted the best for you. Sure, I was a little jealous of Spot, but I figured if you were happy with him, then that's all that mattered to me. I just wanted you to be with someone who cared for you, respected you, and would take care of you. Sure, I wanted to be that man, but…you had your eye on someone else. That's why I said all those things."
Charlotte blinked and the tears fell. David had been willing to sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of hers.
"David…I had no idea you felt that way about me," said Charlotte. "Honest. If I had known…"
David shook his head. "Don't." He looked down at Charlotte. "It's in the past now, okay?"
Charlotte bit her lip and nodded.
Mrs. Jacobs opened the bedroom door and peeked her head in. Charlotte was in the middle of a fitful, restless sleep.
"Fever dreams," Mrs. Jacobs shook her head, "the poor dear…"
She closed the door softly.
A sweet baby boy. He squealed and giggled as Charlotte bounced him on her lap. He was only a year old, but already he began to look like his father.
"Papa's going to be home soon!" Charlotte smiled.
There was a knock on the door.
"I wonder who that is!" Charlotte grinned, putting the baby on her hip and carrying him toward the door.
She opened the door and David stood there.
"He's done it before and he'll do it again," said David.
She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. She felt him let go of her hand and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close to him. Not a tight, possessive grip, but a warm embrace, as if he just wanted to feel her near to him. She felt him pull his head back up and she opened her eyes. She saw his warm eyes smiling down at her, and felt the corners of her mouth turn up.
David stood in front of her in his hat and coat – the same he'd been wearing that fateful day on the docks when he begged her to go home.
"He doesn't love you, Charlotte. If he loved you, he'd give you in a real home with a family. If he loved you, he'd let you stay a nurse, like you always wanted. He doesn't love you. He loves himself."
It was all too familiar, yet something felt off. His words were wrong.
David sighed and threw his hands up and walked away.
She jerked awake.
"It's okay, you're okay, darlin'."
Charlotte looked over to see Mrs. Jacobs dip a washcloth in a basin and wring it out before dabbing it on Charlotte's forehead.
"You were just dreaming."
It took Charlotte a few moments to wake up the rest of the way. She felt disgusting. Her nightgown and the sheets stuck to her, and she felt drops of sweat rolling down her body in various places.
"Must have been quite a dream, too. You woke yourself up by calling out Spot's name."
Charlotte felt her head began to clear from the sleep. She took a couple breaths, feeling like she could really breathe for the first time in a long time.
Mrs. Jacobs put the back of her hand to Charlotte's cheek.
"Your fever is breaking."
Charlotte looked around the room. She was in an unfamiliar bedroom.
"You're in our home," said Mrs. Jacobs. "This is Les and David's room."
Charlotte looked at her, confused. When did she get here? Had she always been here? She was just on the docks with Spot and David…no, that couldn't have been real. She'd been kissing…Spot? David? That definitely felt real. She thought back. A conversation with David. The Jacobs' apartment. A thunderstorm on Brooklyn. Running away with Spot. Laying in the basement, listening to Blade tell her to let go and enjoy.
"You've been running a high fever ever since Skittery and Adelaide brought you here. I know you haven't been awake a lot, but you've been awake enough to have conversations."
Charlotte opened her mouth to talk, but her mouth felt like a desert.
"Here, honey." Mrs. Jacobs handed her a glass of water. She accepted the glass and took a sip. Her mouth began to feel normal. She took another sip, swallowing more water. Her throat hurt as she swallowed, but not nearly as bad as it had. She finished off the glass of water.
"How are you feeling?" Mrs. Jacobs asked.
"Okay…" Charlotte nodded.
"Why don't I draw you a bath, if you're up for it?"
Charlotte nodded. "Yes, please."
Mrs. Jacobs gave her a soft smile and stood up to go draw the bath.
Charlotte soaked in the water while Mrs. Jacobs made some soup. Her breathing was still labored and raspy, though easier than it had been. She still felt achy, but she could move without pain. No more upset stomach. No more sweats and chills.
Charlotte shook her head and rubbed her eyes, still trying to distinguish which memories were dreams and which were real. Everything was still a little cloudy, but she was thinking more clearly than she had in awhile.
She got out of the tub and toweled off, changing into a different nightgown. Mrs. Jacobs let her eat at the table while she changed Charlotte's bed linens.
"Um…is David around?" Charlotte asked as Mrs. Jacobs carried the bedsheets through the apartment.
Mrs. Jacobs gave her a soft smile and patted her shoulder. "Why don't you start with some soup? David is still in school."
Charlotte nodded.
David stood outside his apartment door and looked down at the folded piece of paper in his hands. He wasn't sure if he wanted to pass the message on. He knew it would be better if he didn't, but he also knew that if she found out - and she would - that he withheld the information from her, she would be angry and hurt, and all the progress they'd made would go out the window.
David sighed and walked inside. He saw Sarah and his mother sitting in their usual spots, making lace. He was surprised to see Charlotte sitting at the table, taking tiny sips of soup.
"Hi David," said Mrs. Jacobs.
"Hi Ma…Sarah…" he said. He walked over to Charlotte. "How are you feeling?"
She gave a small nod. "Better than I was."
David looked at her. She'd lost so much weight the past few weeks. It was only noticeable now that she was out of bed.
"This is for you," he said softly, laying the piece of paper next to her soup bowl.
She opened the piece of paper.
I'm out of the refuge. I want to see you.
