Roger frowned when Holly didn't answer her office phone. She had told him that morning when they rode the elevator down together that she would be at work until 5:00, and it was only a few minutes after 3:30. He pulled out the phone book and looked up the main number for KBAY's switchboard. When the secretary answered, he asked to speak to Matthew Cory, knowing that Holly had been working with Matthew.
"Matthew Cory," Matt said hurriedly.
"Hello, this is Roger Thorpe. I was looking for Holly, but she's not answering her office phone. Is she in editing or something?" he asked.
"No, she went home sick a little while ago, and I'm headed out now myself because she had lunch with my mother, and Mom's in such bad shape that she's been taken to the hospital," Matt said.
Alarmed, Roger said, "Are you sure Holly's not at the hospital?"
"Paulina was at the house with little Mack when Mom got home, and Mom nearly collapsed, so Paulina insisted she go to the hospital. Mom said that she and Holly had lunch together, and I was here when Holly said she felt sick and was going home," Matt said.
"Thank you. I hope Rachel recovers soon," Roger said.
"Me too," Matt said before ringing off.
Michael walked into Roger's office just as Roger was hanging up the phone. "Hey, Roger, I-What's wrong?" he asked, seeing the look on Roger's face.
"Holly's sick," he said. "I think it's food poisoning. She had lunch with Rachel Cory, and Rachel is now in the hospital. I called KBAY's main number when I couldn't get Holly on her office phone, and I was told that she went home sick."
"Go," Michael said, instantly understanding. "Let me know how she is later, or tomorrow."
"I will, thanks," Roger said, rushing out of the office, down to his car, and straight to The Bayshore.
When there was no answer to his repeated knocking at Holly's door, Roger was ready to go back downstairs, pull Ned out from behind the concierge desk, and demand that Ned let him into Holly's suite, and just as Roger was about to do exactly that, the door slowly opened, revealing Holly leaning heavily against the door jamb, both her hands gripping the doorknob tightly to keep herself upright. She looked pale and drawn, her eyes were glassy, and she was bent forward, grimacing in pain. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a look of panic chased the glassiness from her eyes and she clapped one hand to her mouth and, with great difficulty, turned from the door and hurried back into the suite, half-stumbling. Roger was right behind her and saw her disappear into the bedroom of the suite, with its adjoining bathroom.
Roger grimaced when he heard Holly getting sick in the bathroom. She had closed the door behind her, so he waited outside the bathroom door worriedly. When the retching stopped, the toilet flushed, and several seconds went by without any other sounds coming from behind the bathroom door, Roger called out, "Holly?" A broken groan was the only reply. He opened the door and stepped into the bathroom to find Holly lying in a heap on the floor in front of the toilet, curled in the fetal position. He fell to his knees beside her and said sympathetically, "Oh, honey."
"Food poisoning," she said weakly.
He gently smoothed her hair off her forehead, frowning when he realized she was feverish. "I think you have a fever," he said.
She opened her eyes and pressed the back of one hand to her forehead. "Maybe I do," she mused.
She struggled to sit up then, stopping the struggle when Roger reached out to help her into a sitting position. "Do you need to stay here for awhile, or would you like to go back to bed, or to the couch?"
"Bed," Holly said wearily. He noticed then that she was in an ankle-length blue-and-white-striped nightgown with plain white socks on her feet. He helped her to her feet and she leaned heavily against him as she shuffled and he walked slowly, helping her out to the bedroom and then into the bed. He pulled the sheet up to her chest, then fluffed her pillows.
"Will you be okay by yourself for about fifteen minutes?" he asked.
"'Okay' is stretching it, but I'm sure I'll still be alive in fifteen minutes," she replied. "Why?"
"There's a drugstore around the corner. I have to run over there and get a few things, but I'll be right back," he said. He started to lean in to kiss her, but she grimaced, holding up a hand and twisting her mouth in distaste. "Right," he murmured. He kissed her forehead before hurrying out to the living room, pulling the Yellow Pages from the desk, and after finding the number for Bay City General Hospital, he punched it into his cellular phone. The last thing Holly heard before the front door of the suite opened and closed, signaling Roger's departure, was his voice saying, "I need to speak to Dr. John Hudson right away. It's an emergency."
As her stomach cramped and did barrel rolls, and she cursed The Seafood Shanty for putting her, and presumably Rachel as well, in this position, Holly closed her eyes and tried to will herself not to get sick again. Unfortunately, food poisoning was completely unaffected by mind over matter, and she had to bolt for the bathroom again.
She was just settling herself back in bed again when she heard the front door of the suite open again, and a moment later, Roger appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, carrying two large bags from the drugstore. "How are you feeling?" he asked anxiously.
"Lousy," Holly replied succinctly.
"I called John Hudson," he said as he set the bags on top of the dresser then dragged the armchair by the doors that opened onto a small balcony over by the bed. "I'm guessing you ate at The Seafood Shanty?"
"Never mention that place to me again," Holly said grimly.
Roger nodded. "Well, that place was obviously pretty popular because dozens of people have either showed up at the ER or called the hospital with food poisoning," he continued. He got up then and went to the dresser, rummaging through one of the bags until he found a thermometer. He brought the thermometer back to the bed and said, "John said as long as your temperature isn't over 101.5, and you don't get dehydrated, you don't have to go to the hospital, so let's see what we're dealing with." With a muffled sigh, Holly accepted the thermometer, holding it under her tongue while Roger kept an eye on his watch. The thermometer was digital, and when it beeped, Roger took it out of Holly's mouth and looked at the red numbers on the readout. "100," he announced. "Okay, that's one hurdle down. Now, you need to drink something and hope it stays down. I got ginger ale and Gatorade. John recommended Gatorade to replace your electrolytes."
None of that sounded good to Holly, but Roger looked so worried, and she really didn't want to land in the ER tonight. "Okay, Gatorade," she said. "There's ice in the freezer."
"Lemon-lime, orange, or grape?" he asked. "I got every flavor they had."
"Lemon-lime."
"Coming right up."
Holly winced. "Please, don't use that particular phrase," she said.
"Sorry," Roger said, wincing too.
When he returned with the Gatorade in a glass with three ice cubes and a straw, Holly took a few sips and then lay back against the pillows, one hand resting lightly on her aching stomach. Roger took the glass from her and set it on the nightstand, then settled himself in the armchair beside her bed. "Can I do anything else for you?" he asked.
"Stay with me," she replied.
"All night," he promised.
"When I pictured asking you to stay with me all night, this is not at all what I had in mind," she said ruefully.
"Me either," he admitted, leaning in closer and gently clasping her hand in his as he smoothed the hair off her forehead again with his other hand. "If I could be sick for you, I would."
"I wouldn't wish feeling like this on someone I hate, and I certainly wouldn't want you to feel this awful. I didn't know it was possible for my stomach to hate me this much. But it's sweet of you to say that."
"I mean it," Roger said earnestly. "I'm...well, 'happy' isn't the right word, but I'm glad that I'm here to take care of you."
"Me too," she replied. Then her stomach groaned loudly. "Here we go again," she said, dropping Roger's hand and throwing back the covers as Roger rose and pushed the chair back. She quickly cut a path to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. A few minutes went by, and Holly had left the door ajar, so Roger cautiously peeked around the door and found her lying on the floor in the fetal position again. He sank to the floor beside her again. "The whole room is spinning," she said. "I don't want to move right now."
John had said dizziness could be a symptom of food poisoning as well. "Then we'll stay right here until you feel strong enough for me to carry you back to bed," Roger resolved.
"I am never even driving by that place again," Holly murmured miserably. Then she slowly turned her head and looked at Roger. "I wonder if Rachel has this too?"
"She does," Roger confirmed. "Actually, um, she's in the hospital."
"Oh no," Holly said.
"I tried calling you at the station, and when you didn't answer, I called the switchboard. They put me through to Matthew Cory, who was on his way to the hospital to be with Rachel. Apparently she made it home and nearly collapsed, and Paulina was there and insisted she go to the hospital."
"And I suggested we eat there," Holly groaned.
"I'm sure Rachel won't hold it against you," Roger said.
He got to his feet then, found a clean washcloth in the cupboard by the tub and shower, and fixed a cold compress for her, helping her hold it against her forehead for a few minutes. "Oh god, I'm gonna be sick again," she moaned, struggling to sit up. Roger helped her up just in time, holding her hair back while she got sick again.
"You want to try going back to bed now?" Roger asked after he'd gotten her a cup of water to rinse her mouth.
"Yes," she whispered. Roger then scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to bed, frowning worriedly at how warm she felt, praying that her fever hadn't gone over 101.5 degrees, because then they'd have to go to the hospital. Once she was in bed again, she closed her eyes and tried not to think about how much her stomach hurt and how nauseous she was.
She was dimly aware that Roger was talking to someone on the phone, but she had no idea who it was, nor did she particularly care at that point as she managed to zone out to the point that she started to worry about lying on her back should she fall asleep and then get sick again; she always slept on her side, but lying on her side made her stomach hurt even worse than it already did. She had no idea how long it actually was, but it felt like only a few minutes later when Roger softly, gently called her name. "Holly? Holly, honey, I need you to wake up for me. We have to take your temperature again." Holly didn't bother to open her eyes, but did allow Roger to coax the thermometer under her tongue again. She thought she heard a knock at the front door, but she wasn't certain until she heard another male voice besides Roger's, this one sounding vaguely familiar, but it required too much thought for her to figure out who the other voice belonged to, so she didn't bother.
The thermometer beeped, and Roger removed it from her mouth. "Oh, jeez, 101!" he exclaimed anxiously.
"Has she been able to keep anything down?" John Hudson asked, setting his medical bag at the foot of Holly's bed.
"She had a few sips of Gatorade, but she got sick about twenty minutes later," Roger reported.
"You put ice in it?" John asked, noticing the glass with the half-melted ice cubes on the nightstand.
"She asked for ice," Roger said defensively.
"Get a fresh glass, and make it room temperature this time," John directed. He opened his medical bag.
"Roger?" Holly asked groggily.
"I'm right here," Roger replied.
"Who else is here?" she asked.
"Dr. John Hudson," John answered. "We met at the dock party last month, remember, Holly? I'm Mike's brother."
"Right," Holly said. She forced her eyes open. "Excuse me for not getting up, but if I move, I'll probably throw up all over you."
"Nausea's really bad, huh?" John asked sympathetically as he fastened a blood pressure cuff around Holly's arm.
"The worst," she muttered.
"Blood pressure is good," John reported after taking her blood pressure. He then took Holly's wrist in his right hand while cocking his left wrist to look at his watch while he took her pulse. "Pulse is normal," he continued. "But we need to get that fever down and get some liquids in you to keep you from dehydrating, or you will end up in the hospital."
"Do you have anything you could give her for the nausea?" Roger asked.
"Yes," John replied. "A shot." Seeing Roger blanch at this, he said, "The shot is for her, not for you."
"He doesn't do well with needles," Holly said. "Go get the Gatorade, Roger."
"Did you get ibuprofen or acetaminophen, something for fever?" John asked.
"I got Motrin," Roger said.
"Ibuprofen," John said. "Get two tablets with that Gatorade, and remember, room temperature."
Roger hurried off to get the Gatorade and ibuprofen, and while he was gone, John gave Holly a shot for her nausea. When Roger returned, Holly took the tablets and slowly drank half the glass of Gatorade. "Keep an eye on your temperature," John said. "Give the ibuprofen some time to bring it down, but if it doesn't come down by midnight, call me. My home number's in the phone book. And drink as much as you can. Dehydration is the big concern, but if you can keep liquids down, that's a sign that you're on the mend."
"How is Rachel?" Holly asked.
"We had to admit her, but she's listed in stable condition, and she was sleeping when I left the hospital," John replied. "I know you feel horrible, but you're one of the luckier patients I've seen today." He closed his medical bag. "Rest, take fluids, and call if you need anything."
"Thank you, John, for everything," Roger said.
"Yes, thank you," Holly echoed.
"Anytime," John said, picking up his medical bag. "I'll see myself out."
After John had left, Roger said, "Feeling any better?"
"Maybe a little," Holly replied. Roger fluffed her pillows up again.
"I got some crossword puzzle books and word search books at the drugstore," he offered.
"Too much thinking," she replied. "I'm not up for that right now."
"The TV is in the living room. I could carry you to the couch if you want to watch something."
"Food commercials, and food is the last thing I want to see, or even think about, right now."
Then Roger spotted the book beside the lamp on the bedside table. "Is this what you're reading right now?" he asked, picking it up.
"Yes, but I don't feel like reading," Holly said.
"Actually, I thought I'd read to you...if you wanted."
"You would really read to me?" she asked.
"If you want me to," he replied.
"I'd like that," she said.
Roger looked at the book's cover then. "Pride and Prejudice."
"Technically it's a classic. Even if it's considered a romance novel, it's not a chintzy one," Holly replied.
"It couldn't be. You don't read chintzy romance novels," Roger reminded her.
Roger picked up and opened the book, removed the bookmark holding Holly's place, and began to read aloud to Holly about Elizabeth Bennet, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth's family, and their various cohorts, until they were both completely caught up in the story, Holly taking periodic sips of Gatorade and only making one trip to the bathroom. When she returned, Roger took her temperature again because it had been a couple of hours, and they were both relieved when they discovered her fever was down to 99.7 degrees; not back to normal, but getting there.
Settled in bed once again, propped up against the pillows that Roger had re-fluffed, Holly looked at him as he resumed reading Pride and Prejudice aloud, feeling better in a way that had nothing to do with her beleaguered digestive system.
"'She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him, that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some time ceased to be repugnant to her feelings; and it was now heightened into somewhat of a friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly in his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, there was a motive within her of good will which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude. Gratitude not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough, to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent on making her known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so much pride, excited not only astonishment but gratitude-for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed; and as such its impression on her was of a sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not exactly be defined,'" Roger read.
He lowered the book to meet her gaze. "I think I can see why you like this," he said.
"You found me out," she said. "I can relate to Elizabeth Bennet."
"She does remind me of you. I like how she calls Mr. Darcy on everything, doesn't let him get away with anything. Like the part where she tells him that first she was surprised that he knew six accomplished women, but now she wonders how he knows any." Roger looked down at the page again. "'Gratitude not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough, to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection,'" he read again.
"I would have deserved it if you had told me that day in May to leave and never come back," she said then.
"I could never do that," Roger replied after he looked up from the book once more. "It would be like carving my heart out of my chest and throwing it out the window, because you are my heart, Holly. And you never would have left if I had given you reasons to stay." He took her hand in his then, looking down at their joined hands for several seconds before looking into her eyes once more. "We both made mistakes," he said. "We'll both make mistakes in the future. But they're not going to be the catastrophic kind of mistakes that send us reeling and looking for somebody else to give us something we're not getting from each other. I can't promise that I'll never hurt your feelings again, but I can, I do, promise that I will do everything in my power to always give you what you need from me and to never take you for granted."
"And I promise you that I will always fight for you, and for us," Holly replied. "I never want to lose you again." She reached for the book. "I have to admit, you kind of remind me of Mr. Darcy too." She took the book from him and flipped through a few pages, found the passage she was looking for, and read it aloud. "'I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding— certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.'"
"That does sound familiar," Roger agreed. "I'm working on it, though. Really, I am."
"I know you are," Holly replied. "I see it. I see it every day."
They looked at each other in silence for a long moment. "So, judging from the condition of this book, you've read this several times before. Do Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy end up together?"
"What do you think?" Holly asked.
"I think they do," Roger replied. Holly said nothing, just managed a wan smile. "So, do they?" he persisted.
"Keep reading," she said. "And no skipping ahead to the end to find out, either."
Roger resumed reading, and three chapters later, he looked up from the book to discover that Holly had fallen asleep. As tempted as he was to flip to the last chapter and read that to see if Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy did indeed end up together, she had told him not to, and so he marked his place in the book and put it back behind the lamp on the nightstand. He touched his hand to her forehead; a light sheen of sweat covered her skin and she no longer felt feverish, much to his relief. He switched off the lamp, noting the gathering dark outside. Since Holly's suite was on the opposite side of the seventeenth floor from Roger's and faced the bay, her suite had that small balcony overlooking the bay.
Roger stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the early autumn air, then resting his arms on the balcony railing and looking out into the night.
Although he hated that she felt so sick, Roger reveled in taking care of Holly. He was becoming more and more aware, in a way he had never been aware before, that it was the little things that made up a truly fulfilling life. They had settled into something of a routine the past five weeks, since the dock party. They met for breakfast nearly every morning, unless one of them had a breakfast meeting for work. They worked at their respective offices, and had dinner together every night. They watched old movies, played Scrabble, and kept in touch with Blake, albeit separately, and with Dinah and Hart thinking that Roger was living in the psych ward of Bay City General Hospital, Roger didn't dare show up in Springfield in person, so he kept in touch with her by phone. In fact, Blake was the one who had alerted him earlier today that Dinah was back in town, and looking very tan, a fact he had put on the back burner in his mind because of Holly's illness. He had left the balcony doors open to listen out for her if she needed him, and let the quiet of the early autumn night seep into his bones as he turned the facts over in his mind.
His divorce from Dinah would be final sometime in the next ten days to two weeks, according to Cass, who was representing him, as he had represented Holly in her divorce from Fletcher. They had to fly under the radar, since Dinah thought she'd had him committed, but Cass was an excellent attorney and reported the results of his meetings with Dinah and Ross back to Roger in great detail. Roger wasn't fighting anything that Dinah asked for; he gave her the penthouse and the settlement she asked for, the amount of which, frankly, surprised him, because he had thought she would try to get much more money out of him in the divorce than she said she wanted. Maybe she figured that getting the full amount of her trust fund back was restitution enough.
But to Roger, it wasn't enough.
He had married Alexandra for her money and her company, and kept Mindy on the side because she was young and good-looking and Alex despised her, and until he found out she couldn't have children, he had thought about having a family with her. He had used Jenna to get Spaulding back when Alan-Michael and Nick proved unable to hold onto the company in the absence of Alan, Alexandra, and Phillip. When he met Dinah, they were both outcasts emotionally estranged from the people they most loved in the world, and theirs was never a marriage built on love. Dinah married him to stick it to Ross and Vanessa, and Roger married her because he couldn't have Holly, because he wanted to show her that he was over her...which was a lie, because he would never be over Holly...and to get at her trust fund.
Of the four of them, Dinah was the only one he thought of as a friend. He tolerated Ross because Ross made Blake so happy, and was the father of two of his three grandsons, and now that Vanessa was sharing custody of Peter with Bridget, Vanessa had no use for Roger and took great pains to see that their paths never crossed, since Roger's visits with Peter always occurred when Bridget had him. Mindy and Jenna had both left Springfield, and Roger was taking the same great pains to avoid Alex that Vanessa was taking to avoid him.
Dinah deserved better than he had given her. He knew she had her trust fund back. And if she and Hart truly loved each other, then he wished them well. No one in their family, such as it was, seemed to go about falling in love in the conventional way. Chrissy and Ross hadn't. If this was the real deal between Hart and Dinah, then they hadn't. And the long and winding road he and Holly had traveled had been anything but conventional.
Roger didn't fool himself that he and Hart could ever be as close as he and Chrissy were, but he wanted his son to be happy, and if Dinah made him happy, then Roger could accept that.
If things went the way he hoped they would, then he and Holly would be making their home in Bay City, so if Dinah and Hart chose to stay in Springfield, they would not be constantly bumping into each other, which would be easier all around until some time and distance from the current situation had elapsed.
Roger was ready to get on with his life, and he wanted that life to be with Holly. Just a few more things remained to be settled, and then they could officially make their new beginning.
It was getting colder outside, the nip in the air just the latest indication that autumn was here to stay. Roger didn't want the night air to give Holly a chill, so he went back inside and, after checking on her, stepped into the living room. First he called room service and ordered a corned beef sandwich since he hadn't had any dinner yet. While he was waiting for room service to show up, he performed a quick financial transaction. When the sandwich arrived, he quickly ate it in the living room, hoping the smell wouldn't reach Holly and reawaken her nausea. Then he slipped down the hall to his own suite for his toothbrush and a blanket. Holly was still sleeping peacefully when he returned, so he brushed his teeth, gargled with mouthwash, and then returned to the armchair at Holly's bedside, wrapping the blanket around himself and watching her sleep.
"This time, we're gonna get it right," Roger said softly to the sleeping Holly, leaning forward in his chair. "Nothing and no one is going to come between us ever again. We'll have no secrets between us, no lies. No shadows or threats from the past hanging over us. We'll talk about everything. This is our chance, Hol, and we're gonna make the most of it." He brushed a gentle kiss to her cheek, and felt her stir slightly, so he sat back in his chair.
She opened her eyes slightly. "I didn't mean to wake you," he whispered.
"'S'okay," she said. "I'm thirsty. Could I have some more Gatorade?"
Roger picked up her glass from the bedside table and handed it to her. She ignored the straw and drank straight from the glass. After she had drained it, she handed it back to him and said, "Could I please have some more? No ice."
"Sure," Roger said, hurrying to the kitchen to fill her glass again. When he returned, she drank half of this glass, then handed it back to him. "How are you feeling?"
Holly took stock of herself before answering. "My stomach still hurts some, but I'm not nauseous anymore."
"You don't feel feverish anymore," Roger said. He retrieved the thermometer from the bedside table and breathed an audible sigh of relief when it registered Holly's temperature as 98.6 degrees-back to normal.
"You're an excellent nursemaid," Holly said.
"I learned from the best," Roger replied with a smile. "You want to hear some more of Pride and Prejudice?"
"I'd love to," Holly said.
Roger turned the lamp on, picked up the book, opened it, and began reading again. Holly lay propped up on her pillows, watching him with a smile as he read. "'...to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room. In an hurried manner he immediately began an inquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up, walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began:
"'In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.'"
Roger covered Holly's hand on the bed with the hand that was not holding the book and read on through Elizabeth's reaction and straight to the end of the story, learning that he was right and Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy did indeed end up together and married.
When he closed and lowered the book upon finishing it, he saw that Holly was asleep again. He set the book back on the nightstand, turned out the lamp, and looked at her there in the dim light of the room, softly snoring in exhaustion, because Holly only ever snored when she was deeply exhausted. "We're almost there," he whispered. As much as he wanted to kiss her, he didn't want to wake her up again, so he slipped off his shoes, wrapped the blanket around himself, settled himself in the chair beside her bed, whispered, "I love you," and gazed at Holly until he too fell asleep.