Chapter 2

A fire-breathing wolf was chasing her through a parking lot and she had to slalom between cars to hide from his cavernous jaws. But her legs failed her and she couldn't run fast enough to escape him. The wolf approached her menacingly, getting closer and closer before blowing fire upon her back, scorching her skin. Angela screamed as she tried to ward off his attack but he wouldn't stop. She was on fire; her entire body roasting and burning in flames.

Tony was about to get ready for bed and planned to check on Angela when he heard her terrifying screams. Alarmed, he raced to her room and found her flailing with the duvet, thrashing about on her bed. Her eyes were closed in sleep but her body was near convulsing.

"Angela? Wake up!" he ordered her fearfully. But she couldn't hear him and continued clawing at the edges of her comforter, moaning fitfully. Tony ran to her bedside and tried to shake her awake. Her eyes opened but when she looked through him with unseeing eyes, he knew that she was delirious. "Madonna mi", he muttered under his breath when he felt her forehead. The heat of her skin scorched his hand. Tony's heart beat fast; he'd never felt a fever like this before. He ran to the bathroom and found the thermometer-he needed to know how bad this was. Gingerly, Tony held the thermometer between his thumb and forefinger and tried to angle it into Angela's mouth, which in itself was quite the challenge. She was still thrashing about, kicking and grasping her duvet while whimpering in her delirium. Somehow, Tony managed to stick the instrument in her mouth. He gently cupped her hot cheek and jaw so it would stay in place. He stared as the red line rose sharply, past 100, 101, 102, 103 (he mentally willed it to stop but it kept going) 104, 105. 105! Tony pulled the thermometer from her mouth and gaped at the number in shock. 105? He'd never seen this number on a thermometer despite nursing Samantha through countless illnesses over the years.

Tony panicked. He didn't know what to do next. He stared at Angela helplessly for a moment, trying to remember what to do. But his brain wasn't responding; his knowledge deserted him and he began to sweat.

Phone. Yes. Phone. Tony picked up the receiver and dialled the doctors Ferguson, hoping that at least one of them would be home. Paul, Marci's father answered.

"Doc, doc, you gotta help me. It's Angela . . . the fever. It's 105! 105.3. I. . . I . . . I don't know what to do!" he shouted into the phone somewhat incoherently.

"Tony? Is that you?" Paul asked. "What's wrong with Angela?"

"Her fever is so high. Over 105! She's delirious . . . oh god. You've got to help me Doc Ferguson!"

"Tony, you need to calm down. Now tell me everything about her symptoms and when this fever began", the doctor spoke in his most soothing voice. Tony did his best to relay the information but he didn't have much to go on.

"Well", began Dr. Ferguson, "there's a nasty flu going around right now. It presents with a high fever, headache, along with a very sore throat. A runny nose will appear after a few days and possibly a cough. The most important thing you have to do right now is lower her fever. Did she take anything for it?"

"I don't know. I told her to but there's no bottle here, Doc. I don't know!" Tony's voice began to rise in panic again.

"Doesn't matter, Tony. Just make sure she gets a dose of ibuprofen right now. A full dose. And you need to cool her off. Put her in a cool bath, no higher than eighty degrees. If the meds and bath don't cool her down, then you need to take her to the ER. There could be an infection we don't know about."

"What? How am I supposed to do that?" Tony asked in alarm.

"Tony, get it together! You have to help her. Call me in an hour with her temperature, alright?" Doc Ferguson ended the conversation leaving Tony in a worse state of anxiety than he'd been before calling.

Deep breath, right. Ibuprofen, right. He found the bottle of meds and took out two tablets. He tried to sit Angela up, but her flailing was erratic and she thrashed at him with her arms, "No. I said no! I don't want to! Stop Lyle!" she screamed at him, looking terrified. She was staring beyond him, at an invisible threat.

"Angela, it's me, Tony! You have to take this medicine, alright? Here, just try and swallow these pills", Tony encouraged her while managing to finally sit her up. He put a tablet in her mouth and gave her some water to chase it down. Fortunately, her reflex kicked in and she swallowed it. He did the same with the second, then decided that he needed help. He'd call Mona; she was Angela's mother after all.

Mona came the minute Tony summoned her-she was worried about her daughter and had no idea that her fever had become so dangerously out of control.

"Oh dear", she cried. "So what did Doctor Ferguson say to do? A bath?"

"Yeah Mona, eighty degrees max. I'll run it and you give her the bath, okay?" Tony wanted to help but he didn't want to overstep where Angela was concerned and he certainly didn't want her to be embarrassed afterwards. He rushed into the bathroom and ran a tepid bath, glancing worriedly into the bedroom every few minutes watching Mona fret over Angela.

"Water's ready, Mona. Call me if you need me", Tony said as he made to exit the bedroom.

"Hold on Tony. I need your help. I can't lift a 125 pound woman into the tub!" Mona apprised him.

If Tony had panicked earlier upon seeing the temperature on the thermometer rise to an alarming number, it was so much more the case now. He pointed stupidly to himself and then back to Mona, "You want me to put her in for you?"

"Tony, you can't chicken out on me now. We have to reduce her fever; please help me", Mona beseeched him with troubled blue eyes.

"Oh Mone", Tony muttered a couple of unintelligible things in Italian while he reluctantly moved back to Angela's bedside. He was tense and apprehensive, unsure of what to do. "Mona, she's not gonna like if I help with her bath!"

"Oh, and she likes burning up with fever? Tony, it's not anything you haven't already seen before. Leave her underthings on but help me get her into the tub, please."

Tony nodded and gestured to Mona, "You undress her. I'll just carry her in." Mona began tugging at the thick flannel nightgown, drawing it upwards to move it over Angela's head. But Angela flinched in her frenzied state. She protested loudly, "Stop it Lyle! Please don't …" she whimpered. Mona gasped in shock. Lyle? She'd only ever known one Lyle in her life and it made no sense that Angela was feverishly calling out his name in fear.

"Who the hell is Lyle?" Tony asked uneasily, his back to the two women. "Angela was babbling about him earlier. Sounds like she's scared of him.

"I don't know", Mona lied. But her heart leapt into her chest when Angela cried out loudly, her voice high and childish, "Lyle, noooooooo!" Mona was not a woman of prayer but right now, she offered a quick one upstairs for her daughter—for both the fever and the feverish ramblings about Lyle. Lyle, her late husband's best friend, devoted employee, and the man who had helped her and Angela regain their lives after Robert's death. He'd been a lifesaver. For Angela to scream about him in such a horrifying way, even in her delirious state was disconcerting to say the least.

"Come on, Tony. I don't know what she's rambling about but let's get her in the water." Tony kept his back to her then turned around with his eyes closed.

"Where is she, Mona? Just direct me and I can put her in …" he began before Mona cut him off.

"Don't be ridiculous! She's got a camisole and underwear on . . . just open your eyes, will you? You need to see where you're going!"

Reluctantly, Tony did as he was told. Mona sounded quite frantic herself and he needed to step up. His breath hitched in his throat and he exhaled sharply. Even in her feverish state, she was simply beautiful. He tried not to look at her, to give her the privacy and respect she deserved. But his eyes were drawn to her long, toned legs. The simple cotton camisole and underwear covered her adequately but he wasn't used to seeing so much of her uncovered. Regaining his senses, he nodded at Mona and gently scooped Angela up. Her skin felt fiery against him as she lay limply in his arms.

Together they headed into the adjacent bathroom, Mona following closely at Tony's heels. Tony carefully lowered Angela into the tepid water, careful not to hit her head against the side of the tub. His hand stayed at the back of her neck, cupping it until she was properly reclined. Angela was now submerged but nonresponsive.

"Tony, why isn't she reacting? The water is cool!" Mona cried out in alarm.

"I don't know Mona. Come on, let's bring down this fever. Grab me a cloth for her forehead, will ya?" Tony was trying to be calm and reassuring for Mona's sake but he felt sick to his stomach with dread. He grabbed the washcloth from Mona, wet it and began stroking Angela's forehead for what felt like an eternity while she simply lay there, oblivious to her surroundings.

"Angela, can you hear me? We're trying to bring your fever down. Please Angela . . . please …" he implored her, his voice cracking with emotion. He just wanted her fever to come down. She began to move about in the water, the ibuprofen starting to take effect.

"Tony?" she asked weakly.

"Yes! It's me. Do you know where you are?" he asked her.

Angela lifted her head weakly and looked around the bathroom in surprise. "I'm in the tub?" she croaked. Even in her state of extreme feebleness, she shielded her body with her hands. Mona pushed past Tony and sat on the edge of the tub.

"Yes, you're in the tub. Angela, your fever is extremely high and you were delirious. We had to lower it-it was an emergency." Mona explained. "Don't worry, you've got clothes on", she reassured Angela when her daughter glanced down at herself in alarm.

"So cold. I'm so cold", she complained. "I want to get out, please."

"Not yet", Tony told her apologetically. "First, we're gonna take your temperature again. It was over 105!" He went into the bedroom and quickly returned with the thermometer.

Mona took Angela's temperature and breathed a sigh of relief. "It's 102.2 now. It's really come down."

"Never thought I'd be happy to see 102 on a thermometer, Mona! The bath and meds worked. You can come out now, Angela", he told her.

Angela's teeth began to chatter violently as Tony and Mona helped her out of the water. She was frozen to the core and embarrassed to be seen in her thin, wet underthings. She gratefully wrapped the thick towel around herself. Tony was looking away to give her privacy as she leaned against him for support. He led her to her bed, while continuing to avert his eyes. But throughout her bath, he'd seen everything through the sheer, white, barely-there garments. He tried not to dwell on the memory of her perfect body, and she really was perfect. Long limbed, slim, curves in all the right places, smooth creamy skin. He shook his head and felt somewhat guilty for dwelling on his boss'—his friend's body. He felt as though he was invading her privacy.

"Uh, Mona, do you think you can help Angela get into some dry things? I'll go call Dr. Ferguson with an update", Tony announced before practically running out of the room, his face flushed.

XXXXX

During the night, Tony checked on Angela again. He couldn't sleep knowing that her ibuprofen would wear off and that her fever would spike again. He sat on a chair beside her bed and watched her sleeping. Her forehead was warm but not dangerously hot as it had been. He felt weary to the bone; all the adrenaline that had coursed through his bloodstream earlier left him shaky and exhausted. Angela's fever had scared him; he always thought of her as strong. She was one of the strongest women he'd ever met and he admired her tremendously. Not only did he admire her, but he respected her and held her in a naïve reverent awe. He knew there were sparks between them; the attraction was palpable. He could feel it in the way she looked at him, her dark eyes lit with affection and something else he couldn't quite name. It was that transcendent quality in her gaze that drew him to her like a moth to a flame. He spent so much energy simply trying to sublimate his desire for her but at times, he could feel it escaping like tendrils of smoke from a hot flame. She felt it too—that he knew. Because he felt that same indefinable passion emanating from her. When they were tired, had a bit too much to drink or simply spent a lot of time in each other's company . . . there it was. That thing, that chemistry, that unconscious mingling of their true selves. Whatever it was, he had to make sure they kept a lid on it because it had the potential to boil over. Besides, she had Geoffrey with a G. Geoffrey, rich, successful and somewhat handsome, he begrudgingly conceded in his mind. Tony had practically thrown her at Geoffrey during the Ferguson wedding after being taunted by that ignorant old couple at their table. But they'd been right—nothing was more stupid than marrying your housekeeper.

At about five in the morning, Angela woke up feeling absolutely horrible. Her throat hurt, her head ached and she was shivering. She knew her fever was spiking again and became anxious. Had it really hit 105? Her teeth were chattering again and her entire body shuddered from chills. She turned uncomfortably in her bed and noticed Tony sleeping on the floor, the plush pink carpet his only mattress.

"Tony", she rasped. "Tony?" She was so cold and didn't want to leave her warm duvet.

Tony woke up feeling slightly disoriented. "Angela? Are you . . . are you alright?" he asked, sleep dissipating from the edges of his mind as his apprehension took over.

"I'm so cold, Tony. Frrrrozen. I think I need more medication. Where is it?"

Tony stood up and located the bottle of ibuprofen on her night table. He sat on the edge of her bed and gave her two more tablets then took her temperature again. 104. "Angela, your fever is spiking again. I can get you a cool cloth."

"No. I'm so cold. Tony, I need to warm up. Please, can you warm me up? I can't stop shivering. No cold cloths." Angela wanted him to get under the covers with her to warm her up. She felt a bit guilty because Geoffrey wouldn't like that one bit but she didn't too much care at this moment.

"Do you want an extra blanket?" he asked her. "Perhaps a hot water bottle?"

"No, Tony, just warm me up. You." Angela lifted the edge of her duvet in invitation. She didn't want to be alone, not merely because she was sick but because she felt as though she'd had a very bad nightmare and its remnants lingered unpleasantly. What had she dreamt about that had upset her so much? She felt frightened and didn't know why.

Tony was too tired to protest or come up with a valid reason as to why this was not a good idea. He crawled into her bed, reminding himself that she was sick. Very sick and she needed him. This was not romantic in the least, he told himself.

"Hi", he said as he slid under the covers next to her. She was still so hot to the touch.

"Hi", she whispered back to him. She snuggled against him, desperate to stop shivering. He held her tightly against him, contagion be damned. At this point, he didn't care if he got sick. He only wanted to help her feel better. He stroked her arms and wrapped himself around her back.

"Tony, thank you—for taking care of me."

"You got it, Angela. How could I not? Your fever was so high. God, you were delirious. It scared me."

"Delirious? How?" She was curious. She'd never been delirious before and didn't remember it now.

Tony paused for a moment, unsure if he should ask. But curiosity got the best of him. "Angela, who's Lyle? You kept screaming at him."

He felt Angela's entire body tense up in his arms. She had stopped shivering but now, went rigid with horror. "Lyle?" It was barely a whisper, more of a whimper really.

"Yeah, who is that? Angela?" Tony felt very perturbed now. Something was terribly wrong.

"I can't . . . I can't talk about Lyle, Tony. Not now." He heard a small sob escape her. Tony had never seen her react this way. On some deep level within him, he knew . . . he just knew.

"It's okay Angela. You don't have to tell me. But I'm your friend and if you ever want to talk about it, you can talk to me", he reassured her, not sure if he really wanted to know or not. Something bad had happened with Lyle and he would be there for Angela no matter what. But he had the feeling that whatever this was, Lyle was a hell of a lot worse than a high fever.