To those expecting me to write a Star Trek story: yes, I know. I am. I just got sidetracked. I'm sorry. My sister and I have been fans of the Waltons for a few years, and we're in the process of re-watching all of the episodes. I'm still writing some stories for Star Trek and I'm thinking about writing one for Royal Pains or NCIS, but I'm taking an unexpected break from all of that. Again, I'm sorry.
This is a story that my sister inspired me to write. I tweaked some of the ages of the kids and Curt may be a bit…. Nicer? More caring? More family-oriented? …Than he normally is.
Really, this story has no purpose other than to entertain my want for more Waltons fanfiction. You probably won't find the meaning of life in here. It's just something that wouldn't leave the creative memory banks of my mind.
I don't own The Waltons and I gain no profit from writing this. This is just for fun.
Erin Walton wasn't feeling well.
She'd been woken up as usual by the smell of coffee and biscuits wafting through the house, but instead of making her stomach rumble as the thought of breakfast usually did, the 17 year old suddenly found herself having to fight to swallow back the bile that rose up into her throat. Opening her eyes, Erin was forced to squeeze them shut again. The light coming in through the open curtains burned her eyes as if she'd been staring directly at the sun. A massive shock of pain crashed into her skull, and the teenager stifled a moan. Across the room Erin could hear her sister Elizabeth getting ready for the day. Suddenly there was the familiar sound of all of the bedroom doors opening and slamming shut, and the daily fight for the bathroom began. Normally Erin would have been just as much a part of it as anyone else, but today she rolled over onto her other side, covered her head with her pillow, and tried to drown out the chaos in the hallway.
Fighting back another rolling wave of nausea, Erin tried to relax her muscles enough to get back to sleep. She started shivering; why on earth was it so cold in the house? Curling into a ball and pulling her blanket more tightly around her, the almost-adult girl struggled to get back to sleep.
She never got that far.
Floating somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, Erin measured the passing of time in random spurts and measures. She didn't know how long she lay in bed, but she did know that it was getting harder to fight her stomach. She was about to give up and go to the bathroom when she heard footsteps crossing the room to her bed. Hide it, she thought. Hide it if you're sick. They don't need to know. They don't care. They'll just treat you like a baby.
"Erin!" It was Elizabeth. "Erin! Wake up!"
"Go away, Elizabeth," Erin ground out the words, thankful when they sounded more exhausted than strained from the nausea that was intensifying every second.
"But Erin, Mama's got breakfast ready and she told me to come and get you. Curt and Mary Ellen are here. They want us to go to their house to help with some chores, like painting and stuff. And then we're going to have a sleep over!"
There was a brief pause as Erin considered this. It wasn't often that Curt and Mary Ellen spent time with the Walton children, and offering to let the teenagers sleep over was a first. Erin couldn't help but wonder if Mary Ellen was okay; but of course she was. She was a grown woman; she could take care of herself.
"Erin!" Elizabeth was getting more and more frantic by the moment. Erin thought that her youngest sibling must have really wanted her breakfast.
"Okay, Elizabeth. Go on. I'll be down in a few moments." This was clearly enough for the youngest Walton, because the redhead danced out of the room without another word. Erin sighed, forcing herself into a sitting position. Her arms were shaking and her stomach seemed to twist painfully, but although Erin gagged, there was nothing in her stomach to throw up. After dry-heaving for a few painful moments, Erin gritted her teeth and pulled herself to her feet. She was hit by a spell of dizziness, but it passed as soon as it came. Half-dragging her exhausted, aching legs to her dresser, Erin dressed slowly. Making her way down the stairs, she stopped halfway as a thought occurred to her.
Curt and Mary Ellen were here.
Not good.
Erin had every intention of hiding her illness… or whatever this was… from her family, but how was she supposed to do that if there was a nurse and a doctor sitting at her kitchen table? Silently Erin turned on her heel and headed back upstairs. Shutting the bathroom door behind her she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and there were bags under her eyes. Sighing, Erin splashed cool water onto her face, promptly beginning to shiver when the water felt like ice. She fixed her hair in a way that would hopefully distract onlookers from the bags under her eyes. Knowing that if she didn't get downstairs the cavalry would come looking for her, Erin took one last look in the mirror. It wasn't nearly good enough, but it would have to do – there just wasn't enough time to do anything more.
Sending up a silent but fervent prayer that no one would comment on or notice her ill health, Erin went down to the kitchen, taking her place at the table. Grandma passed her a plate with a hot biscuit on it, but the thought of eating made Erin's stomach do backflips. Picking at her meal, the teen didn't notice the eleven pairs of eyes that were fixed worriedly on her face.
"Erin?" Mama asked. "Aren't you gonna eat your breakfast?"
"Oh," Erin said, glancing at her food. She contemplated taking a bite to satisfy her mother, but the smell of coffee hit her hard and with it came a feeling of nausea worse than any she'd felt before. "No, mama, I'm really not very hungry," she said instead. "I think I'll skip breakfast today." To her intense surprise and slight disappointment, no one said a word. She'd expected an argument. This time she caught the looks that were exchanged and the glances that were thrown her way, but no one questioned her further, and she gratefully sank down into herself. Wishing that the benches the family ate on had backs, Erin settled for leaning forward on her elbows as she tried to inconspicuously roll the aches and pains from her shoulders and neck.
"Well, I'd better head off to class," John Boy said, gulping down the last of his coffee. "Coming, Jason?" The two oldest Walton boys headed out the front door, and moments later the sound of a truck starting alerted the remaining occupants of the house that the boys were headed off to college for the day. Erin sighed, thankful that it was summer vacation and that she didn't have to worry about school for another seven weeks.
"We'd best be heading out, too, Pa," John Walton grimaced, heaving himself up from his chair. Grandpa followed after pocketing another hot biscuit, and the two men made their way to the sawmill. Erin noticed all of this only subconsciously. Most of her attention was focused on fighting the headache that was building behind her temples as well as the nausea that was still increasing, if that was possible.
"If you children are done with your breakfast, we'd better get going," Mary Ellen said. Elizabeth, Jim Bob, and Ben rose as one, heading upstairs. For what, Erin wasn't sure. Mary Ellen frowned. "Well, come on, Erin. Don't you want to grab some pajamas or some clothes or something?"
"Oh. Sure, Mary Ellen." Erin dragged herself upstairs, trying not to pass out. Elizabeth was waiting for her when she got to their shared room, bag already packed. The redhead offered the bag to her sister, and Erin stuffed her own clothes in on top of Elizabeth's. Then the sisters made their way back down the stairs to where Curt, Mary Ellen, and their brothers were waiting for them.
"Bye, mama. Bye, grandma," the teens chorused, and Erin muttered "goodbye" along with her siblings in order to allay the concern that was building in her mama's eyes. The teens climbed into the back of Curt's truck. Ben and Jim Bob started arguing, and Erin saw stars with every loud word or exclamation. She was getting a truly horrible headache, and the voices of her siblings weren't helping. The bumping of the truck over the country roads wasn't doing her any favors, either.
When the truck stopped some ten minutes later, Erin wasn't sure how she'd managed to keep from vomiting, let alone passing out. She was feeling worse by the second, and despite the warmth of the air that had Ben wiping sweat from his brow, Erin started to get goose bumps from the chill that seemed to go bone-deep.
Entering the Willard household, the four Walton teenagers eagerly looked around for the chores that needed to be done. The common logic among the kids was that if the chores were done as soon as possible, there would be more time for play or relaxing or hanging out with Curt and Mary Ellen later on.
"Over here," Mary Ellen led the teens to the kitchen, indicating the walls and a set of paint brushes. Within moments Elizabeth and Jim Bob had gotten started on one section of wall, and Ben and Mary Ellen had started on another section. Erin watched as Curt opened a window to help get rid of the paint smell, but she made no effort to join her family with the repainting. All she really wanted was to sit down, just for a moment. Sighing, Erin made her way towards the kitchen. If she wanted to keep her illness from the family, she had to act like she wasn't sick. As if to make her job harder, her vision chose that moment to blur and the room started to spin. Erin closed her eyes and grabbed onto the doorframe, hoping that no one had noticed. Her luck was never that good, however.
"Erin, are you feeling alright?" a voice asked softly, and Erin recognized the tone for what it was: Curt was trying to keep the Waltons out of the loop for the time being. She knew that she should probably admit to being ill, but when it came down to it, she couldn't swallow her pride and admit to Curt what she hadn't even been able to tell her mother.
"I think so, Curt," the 17-year-old lied, opening her eyes and looking at the man. "I'm just tired, is all."
"Would you like to lie down for a while? Your brothers and sisters and I can get the painting done, no problem, and then if you're feeling better you can help with the rest of the chores." Erin's immediate answer to that would have been a resounding yes, but then she thought over what Curt had said. He'd said she could help when she was feeling better. Erin cursed; Curt knew that she was sick. She'd have to redouble her efforts to appear perfectly healthy.
"No thanks," the girl sighed, grabbing a paintbrush. Curt sighed, and Erin knew that he wasn't happy with her evasion. However, the doctor didn't say a word. Erin caught his worried looks as she moved to help Elizabeth and Jim Bob, but thankfully Mary Ellen and the others seemed not to notice.
With the distraction of painting, Erin found that she actually did feel a little bit better. Her mind was focused almost entirely on the task at hand, and not on the pounding in her head. It was a welcome respite from the lousy feeling that had plagued her all morning.
Unfortunately it only takes so long to repaint a room, and with six people on the job the task didn't last more than an hour. Mary Ellen poured lemonade for everyone as Ben hopped down from the countertop where he'd been perched as he'd repainted the tops of the kitchen cabinets.
"Lemonade, Erin?" Ben offered, passing around the glasses that Mary Ellen was pouring. Erin caught the look that Curt shot her way and stubbornly swallowed back the disgust she felt as the drink was all but shoved under her nose.
"Thanks, Ben," she sighed, grabbing the cold glass. Painting had been more of a workout than it should have been, and Erin was a far cry from her previous cold, shivering self. The girl took a tentative sip of her lemonade. It sat better in her stomach than she'd expected, so she took another sip, and another. Before she knew it she'd finished the entire glass. Without asking first, Mary Ellen took the empty glass from her and refilled it, leaving Erin feeling obligated to finish the second glassful as well. Her stomach was starting to protest the acidic drink, though, and Erin swallowed a few times in order to hold herself together. She was not going to throw up now.
"Mary Ellen, can we get started on our other chores, now?" Elizabeth asked, distracting their older sister's attention from Erin. Mary Ellen looked at Curt who nodded. Glancing back at her siblings, Mary Ellen smiled.
"Sure, Elizabeth. You can come with me, and when the others finish their drinks they can meet us outside. We've got some gardening to do." Mary Ellen led Elizabeth out the front door, and Ben followed on their heels as soon as he'd finished his second glass of lemonade. Jim Bob spent another thirty seconds savoring his drink before he, too, moved from where he was leaning against the countertop and joined his siblings outside in the garden. Not wanting to be alone with the one person who knew she was sick, Erin left her lemonade on the counter with the intention of coming back to drink it later. She tried not to sway as she walked, hoping to hold off showing any weakness until she was alone.
"Just a moment, Erin," Curt called, and she turned to find him watching her closely. "Sit down before you fall down." She thought about disobeying, but something told her that now wasn't the time. Making her way to the table, Erin sank down heavily on the nearest chair. She hadn't realized how sick she'd gotten, but now that she was off her feet she realized how close her legs had been to giving out on her.
"Ouch," she moaned before she could stop herself. Curt sighed.
"I thought so. Erin, why didn't you say something sooner?"
"I didn't want anyone to know," the teen replied sulkily.
"Why ever not?" Curt frowned. "You're miserable, and it's obvious."
"Curt," Erin explained in a strained voice, "John Boy has mama wrapped around his finger. If he gets hurt, or sick, he still gets away with doing whatever he wants. Jason never gets sick, and neither does Mary Ellen. When Ben gets sick he always hides it, and mama babies Jim Bob and Elizabeth. Whenever I get sick, I'm just the middle Walton child – It's expected that I should be old enough to handle it alone, but I'm apparently not old enough to decide for myself whether I can be up and around. I didn't want to deal with it this time. Everyone would criticize me for being sick and then they'd criticize me even more for acting like I'm not sick, even though they're upset that I was sick in the first place. I can't win."
There was a pause while Curt tried to decipher Erin's lengthy speech. Then, when he'd gotten the gist of it, he sighed and shook his head.
"Erin…" He broke off at her forlorn look. "Erin, I won't pretend to disagree with you entirely, but your family isn't always like that. They love you, Erin. When you're sick they need to know. They care about you. They want you to get better. I think you'll find that it's like that in every house, with every child. And not just the middle children, either. I've seen how your mama treats Elizabeth when she's sick, and I've seen how she treats John Boy. Neither of them gets any special treatment. She babies John Boy just as much as Elizabeth, and she expects just as much from Elizabeth as she does from John Boy."
"Well, it doesn't seem like that from where I'm sitting," Erin argued, swallowing thickly.
"It rarely seems like you're being treated just like everyone else when you're the one in the situation," Curt agreed with a nod.
"Well, I'm not telling them I'm sick. They don't need to know."
"Erin, your mama already knows. She told Mary Ellen and I when you kids were upstairs getting clothes."
At this, Erin frowned.
"Mama already knows?" she asked, confused. "How?"
"She's your mama." Curt's answer was simple, but it clicked everything into perspective for Erin. The Walton and the Willard sat together at the table for a few moments, each contemplating the other. Erin finally sighed.
"Okay, Curt." Then Erin frowned again. "Mary Ellen knows? Why didn't she say anything? It's not like her to keep quiet when she knows someone has a problem."
"She knows you didn't want anyone to notice," Curt explained. "She's trying to give you your space."
Erin and Curt sat in silence. All along Erin had thought her family hadn't cared that she was sick; sure, she'd been trying to hide it, but part of her wanted someone to notice. Now she was being told that they'd known all along, and were respecting her want for space. Thinking about what Curt had said about John Boy and Elizabeth, she realized that he was right. John Boy would always be her pushy older brother, but he was also always going to be mama's oldest baby. And as for Elizabeth, well, she didn't get any special treatment when she was sick, either, especially not now that she was getting older. Erin wondered if she'd been acting fickle.
"Curt, would you object if I asked if I could lie down somewhere?" the teen asked, knowing that in doing so she was admitting defeat and acknowledging that Curt was right about her family. The doctor smiled fondly.
"Sure, Erin. Go lie down on the couch, and stay there as long as you want." Curt watched her as she stood from the table and made her way unsteadily to the sofa in the living room. She sank onto the sofa and settled into a loosely curled ball. Exhausted, dizzy, and still trying not to throw up, Erin closed her eyes and fell once again into that floating, jelly-like mental state of being half awake and half asleep. A small part of her brain registered the weight of a blanket settling over her still body, and a hand rested on her forehead for a moment. She moved, trying to see who it was.
"Go to sleep, Erin. You're safe." Curt's voice was like a lullaby, and Erin instantly fell asleep.
When she woke up, it was obvious from the way the light was coming in the windows that it was sometime in the middle of the afternoon. Her stomach was sending desperate signals to her brain that she needed to throw up, but Erin refused. At some point during her sleep she'd stretched out on her back, and in an effort to dispel the horrible nausea she rolled onto her side and curled into the tightest ball possible. She was suddenly way too hot but she couldn't muster up the energy to kick off the blanket. Instead she settled for sweating, shaking with the effort of holding her muscles into the tightly locked position she'd moved into. Her stomach hurt, but taking a few deep breaths helped to make the urgent need to vomit become less noticeable.
"Mary Ellen, Erin's awake," Elizabeth's voice called. From the kitchen came the sound of footsteps, and within seconds Mary Ellen appeared, kneeling in front of Erin.
"Erin?" Mary Ellen called gently. "How are you feeling?" Erin blinked at her sister, trying to figure out how to answer that. Curt had obviously told Mary Ellen that she'd admitted to being sick, or else Erin was sure that Mary Ellen would be continuing with the pretense that everything was as usual.
"I'm fine, Mary Ellen," Erin sighed, but at her older sister's look she elaborated. "I have a headache and I'm nauseous." The older of the two young women reached a hand towards her sister and felt the teen's forehead.
"You're still pretty warm," Mary Ellen frowned. "Do you think you're going to throw up?"
"I'm trying not to, Mary Ellen," Erin said, "But I'm not sure if I can hold it in."
"Erin, why didn't you want us to know you were sick?"
"I'm sorry," Erin said, and to her embarrassment tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. "I just wanted to be able to take care of one thing by myself. I knew you or Curt would figure it out, but I didn't want mama or anyone else to know. It's just that they think I'm pathetic."
"Oh, Erin, you know that's not true," Mary Ellen sighed, brushing Erin's hair back from her eyes comfortingly.
"Yeah, Erin. And besides, I'm the youngest one. No one else is allowed to be pathetic," Elizabeth grinned, trying to cheer Erin up. The middle Walton smiled.
"Thanks, Elizabeth."
"None of you are pathetic," Curt argued, causing all three of the sisters to jump. None of them had noticed Curt and the boys when they'd entered the house. Turning, Mary Ellen smiled at her husband as he made his way over to where Erin was stationed on the couch.
"How are you feeling, Erin?" he asked, not giving her a chance to reply before he reached out and felt her forehead. "Still have a fever, huh?" His hands moved down and felt beneath her jaw for a moment. "Mary Ellen, I checked her over while she was sleeping," he said. "She's got the flu. We'd do best to let your parents know, but she'll be fine." Then, turning to Erin, he asked, "Are you hungry?"
"Not really," Erin grimaced. Curt and Mary Ellen nodded.
"Okay, Curt. I'll call mama and let her know. There's vegetable soup on the stove for everyone whenever you're ready to eat."
Curt and the three youngest Waltons disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Mary Ellen and Erin alone in the living room.
"Erin, promise me something. The next time you get sick, just tell someone."
"Okay, Mary Ellen," Erin agreed, thinking over all the deception she'd tried and the pain she'd put herself through only to find out that it was all in vain. "I can do that."
"Good."
"And Mary Ellen?" Erin asked, calling her sister back as the woman was on her way to the kitchen to get some soup.
"Yes, Erin?"
"I'm sorry. I just thought…." Erin trailed off, unable to find the right words.
"I know, Erin. Don't worry. But listen. Mama and daddy love you so much. We all do. Getting sick won't change that. If they treat you differently when you're sick it's because they're worried about you. That's what family does. I'll tell you what. In the future if something like this happens, feel free to come to me or Curt, okay?"
"Thanks, Mary Ellen." Erin was aware that she'd made a fool of herself, but somehow it didn't matter. She relaxed into the cushions of the sofa, safe in the knowledge that she was with family and that no matter what they'd always want to keep her around.