Cutler - Midnight Whipsers Part 43

"She makes everything seem dirty," Gavin said, his eyes lowered.

"It's not, if you really care about the person you're with, Gavin. Then, it's beautiful. We've got nothing to be ashamed of," I told him. He smiled and I kissed him quickly on the lips.

"Sleep tight," he said.

"And don't let the bedbugs bite," I added and went in. Now that we had made our decision, I felt as if a heavy load had been lifted from my shoulders. I went to sleep relieved that we would finally be rid of Fern. I was sorry our time in our special paradise had come to an end, but somehow, things will be all right, I told myself. Just for a while, permitted myself to crawl out from under that curse that lay over me like a heavy, flat rock.

But I should have known better.

I should have expected that it would find a way to block the sunlight from warming our lives.

Gavin's shout woke me out of my pleasant dreams.

"Christie, come quickly," he cried from the doorway. "It's Jefferson!"

"What, Gavin?"

"Something's terribly wrong with him!" he exclaimed. The terror in his face made my heart stop and I was out of bed in an instant.

The Shadows Deepen .

"WHAT'S THE MATTER, JEFFERSON?" I CRIED, UNABLE to keep the alarm out of my voice.

Jefferson was lying rigidly on his back, his arms extended stiffly at his sides. His mouth was open just enough to permit him to voice a low moan. In fact, his jaw looked swollen, the skin around it taut.

"He just started moaning like that," Gavin explained, "He woke me. When I asked him what was wrong, he only moaned again and again. Then he started calling for you."

I put my hand on Jefferson's forehead.

"He feels feverish."

"Christie . . ." Jefferson said when his eyes flicked open and he saw me bending over him. His eyes were so full of pain and sadness, my heart went out to him.

"What's wrong, Jefferson? What hurts?"

"My neck feels like someone's squeezing it," he complained. He closed and opened his eyes with every word as if it was a major effort to utter each syllable. "And my face hurts, too. Make it stop, Christie, make it stop."

"His face hurts? What . . what could it be?" I asked Gavin. He shrugged.

"A flu, maybe."

"He definitely has a fever," I said. Jefferson's lips were very dry and his tongue looked pale pink.

"Cold," Jefferson said. "Brrrr . . ."

"You're cold?" I asked him and he nodded.

"I'll put my blanket over him," Gavin said and moved quickly to his bed to get the quilt Aunt Charlotte had provided. He and I spread it over Jefferson's little body and tucked it in at his chin. Still, he shuddered.

"Cold," he repeated.

"It's such a warm night," I said, astounded.

"How can he be so cold?" I rubbed his arm and shoulder vigorously.

"It's the chills . . . from the fever," Gavin said.

"He looks pretty sick," I said. "His skin is so pale and why is he lying so rigidly? He's as stiff as a board. Just feel his arms, Gavin."

"Maybe because of the fever," Gavin guessed after touching Jefferson.

"I should take his temperature. I wonder if Aunt Charlotte would have a thermometer."

"Somehow, I doubt it," Gavin said.

"We'd better do something quickly. . . wake Aunt Fern and tell her to look at him."

"I doubt if she knows what to do," Gavin said.

"Don't waste your time."

"But her boyfriend might. He looks 'intelligent," I said.

"He can't be too intelligent if he stuck himself with Fern," Gavin said.

"My eyes hurt, Christie, and my throat, too,"

Jefferson complained. "It hurts to swallow and it hurts to turn my head."

"It's definitely the flu, I bet," Gavin said, nodding. "I felt the same way when I had it."

"What did your mother do?" I asked, feeling more frantic with every pa.s.sing moment. "I had the flu, but I can't ever remember being this sick."

"She called the doctor and he told her to give me aspirin and make me drink a lot of liquids. It took a little more than a day, but I felt better pretty quickly after that. Don't worry," Gavin a.s.sured me, "I'm sure it's nothing more."

"Still, I'd better have Aunt Fern or her boyfriend look at him, don't you think?"

Seeing how nervous I was, Gavin reluctantly nodded.

"I hate to ask her for anything," he muttered.

"Stay with him," I said and left to go to Aunt Fern's room.

This late at night, only one lone kerosene lamp remained burning in the corridor. The shadows made the hallway look longer and more lonely. I scurried along as quickly as I could and knocked on Aunt Fern's door. Neither she nor her boyfriend responded.

Maybe they're still downstairs, I thought. The-flickering light from the small flames in the lamps below made the shadows dance on the walls beside the stairway and above. I decided to knock again, only much louder.

"Aunt Fern? Are you in there? Aunt Fern."

I heard what sounded like a lamp falling over.

Something crashed on the floor. The noise was followed by a ripple of curses.

"What the h.e.l.l is it?" Fern screamed from within and then the door was thrust open. Aunt Fern swayed. She stood there totally nude, her hair wild, her eyes barely open.

"What do you want? It's the middle of the night!" she complained, her eyes opening a little more with each complaint. "Why did you come banging on our door?"

"It's Jefferson, Aunt Fern. He's sick. He definitely has a temperature and he's complaining about pain in his neck and in his face. We don't know what to do," I said.

"What is it? What's the matter?" Morton called from the bed. He put on another lamp and sat up.

"It's my brother," I explained, looking past Aunt Fern. "He's sick."

"So what?" Fern cried, folding her arms over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Kids get sick all the time."

"Is he throwing up?" Morton asked.

"No, but his throat hurts and his neck hurts and . . .".

"So, he's got a cold or something," Aunt Fern said. Her mouth twisted into an ugly grimace. "For this, you wake us up in the middle of the night?"

"He's in pain," I emphasized.

"Maybe he's got some kind of flu," Morton said. "Yes," I said, nodding. "Gavin thought that might be it."

"Get him some aspirin," Morton said. "That's all you can do for now."

"Yeah, get him some aspirin," Aunt Fern agreed and started to close the door.

"But I don't think they have aspirin here," I moaned. "I'm frightened for him, Aunt Fern. Really."

"d.a.m.n it," she said.

"You've got some aspirin in your pocketbook, Fern," Morton said. "We bought it a few days ago after we woke up with hangovers in Boston, remember?"

"What? Oh yeah, yeah. Wait a minute," she said and hobbled back to the bed. "I forgot where I put my pocketbook," she groaned. "Did I leave it downstairs?"

"How would I know? I barely remember being downstairs myself," Morton replied and dropped his head back to the pillow as if it had turned to stone.

"What a pain in the rear end you are," Aunt Fern complained. She turned around and around.

"There it is!" I cried, pointing to the vanity table.

"What? Oh. Yeah." She went to it and combed through her things. "I don't see it," she said. My heart felt like a lead brick in my chest. For all I knew, Aunt Fern could have thrown the aspirin away.

"Please look harder, Aunt Fern. He's very sick.

We need the aspirin."

Sanguine color flooded her face.

"Either it's you or Jefferson always needing something," she spat. I looked down, afraid she would just throw me out. "d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n," she said and angrily turned the pocketbook upside down and emptied it. "Here it is," she said, finally locating the small tin of aspirin. "Take it," she said, thrusting it at me angrily, "and get the h.e.l.l out of here so we-can have some peace and quiet and get some sleep."

I seized it and turned to the door quickly.

"Don't forget to shut the door. And quit babying him they way they babied you!" she called after me as I started back down the corridor.

"What did they say?" Gavin asked as soon as I returned.

"To give him aspirin."

"The least they could have done was come here and look at him," he muttered.

"Neither of them are in any condition to look at anyone. At least Morton got Aunt Fern to give me some aspirin."

I got Jefferson a gla.s.s of water and offered him two tablets, but when I put them into his mouth, he cried that he couldn't swallow.

"It hurts too much, Christie. It hurts!"

"What will we do, Gavin? If he can't swallow . .

"Grind the aspirin up and mix it in the water. I remember my mother doing that for me when I was a little boy," he said.

I mixed it as quickly as I could and then held the gla.s.s to Jefferson's lips. I started to pour the liquid into his mouth a little at a time, but as soon as it reached his throat, he went into a terrible choking convulsion-his whole body shaking, his eyes bulging.

"GAVIN!" I cried. "He's choking on the water!"

Gavin rushed to take Jefferson into his embrace.

"Easy buddy, easy," he said, holding Jefferson upright. He tapped him on the back lightly. "What happened? It's just water and ground aspirin!" I said.

"Just went down the wrong pipe," Gavin said calmly. "Let him catch his breath and we'll try again."

My fingers trembled as I brought the gla.s.s to Jefferson's lips a second time. He looked like he had pa.s.sed out; he barely moved.

"Jefferson, open your mouth just a little," I coaxed. His lips remained shut, his eyelids sewn.

"Jefferson."

"Maybe we should just let him sleep," Gavin suggested.

I shook my head, frightened. My heart pounded. I had never seen Jefferson this sick, even when he had the measles and chicken pox.

"It doesn't seem right, Gavin. You didn't have trouble swallowing when you had the flu, did you?" I asked. "I know I didn't."

"I had a bad sore throat once . . even had blisters. He might have that," Gavin said.