Miles for Love Series Box Set, page 119
“We’re here for two weeks. You want to catch up tomorrow or something? I can pop by.”
“Sure. I’d love that.” I say, my face brightening.
“I’ll even leave the kidlets with Aleks, so we can have some one-on-one.” she winks.
Aleks pipes up after he finishes swallowing. “Sure, yes, go Malishka. Have fun. I will take the babies out.”
“We’ll take them somewhere. All of us.” Mom says, and dad nods.
“Sounds wonderful.” Aleks says, smiling. God, I love that guy. Could he be any nicer? He and Mallorie make such a perfect couple. It is clearly evident that they are a pair. He’s her yin and she’s his yang. No doubt about it.
“I’ll come spend the day with you and the kids another day, huh, Aleks?” I offer.
“Sure, Grant. Anytime.” He says like he would absolutely love to, and I totally believe him. We had such a blast in Latvia in the summer. Aleks is bad ass in the gym. He taught me a few things that I never knew, even from being in the military. The man is very intelligent and hard-working as hell. Plus, he’s the most devoted family man there is. I envy him. I only hope that some day I can be as great a man to my family as he is. But as I think about this, I wonder how successful I can be in that department, given everything that’s going on. It almost seems impossible.
“Have you had enough, Grant?” Mom asks, pulling me from my reverie. “Can I take your plate?”
“Oh, shoot, sorry mom. No, that’s fine. I’ll bring it up.” I say, rising.
“Everything okay, Grant? You look like you’re a million miles away.” Tyler asks.
“Yeah. I just…I have to…be somewhere.” I lie.
I catch a look that Ripley and Tyler exchange. “Err…Grant, hold on just a second.” Tyler says.
I nod.
Tyler takes Ripley’s hand. Ripley smiles. “We have a little announcement to make.” Tyler says.
Ripley holds up two fingers. “Two, actually.”
Tyler grins. “Yes, baby, two.”
Mom sits down. Her mouth is half open. Her eyes look like dinner plates. Dad takes mom’s hand in his. By the looks on everyone’s faces, this is good news, and I wonder how many of us are in the know. I’m not.
“Ripley and I are engaged.” Tyler says, and then he holds up Ripley’s left hand, showing off the engagement ring.
A din of clapping, wooting and congratulations is heard, as there are hugs and kisses and all kinds of love being passed around. Ripley approaches me and gives me a hug. “So, I guess I get another sister-in-law.” I say with a smile.
She kisses my cheek. “I guess so.”
“Congratulations.” I kiss her cheek.
“Hey…hey! Get your own!” Tyler teases, as we pull apart. His smile is tentative. So is mine.
“Hey, we weren’t done yet.” Ripley says, as she picks up on the tension, I’m guessing.
Tyler looks at his fiancé. “Okay, you get to do this one.”
Ripley looks at me, giving me a warm smile. “Not only do you get another sister-in-law, but you also get another niece or nephew.”
Mom and Mallorie cry out. “Oh my God!” gleefully.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Kayla calls, rising. She comes over and gives her a big hug.
Tyler looks at me and I press my lips into a smile. “Congrats, man.” I manage.
“Thanks, man.” He pats me on the back and walks away.
Another round of hugs and kisses, and then the room has a constant din of chatter, as everyone outwardly discusses wedding and baby plans. I feel like I’m a day late for prom. It seems like everyone in the family has been given a pass for happiness, except me.
Dad picks up on my face. He throws me a bone. “Well, you go on then, son. Are you off the whole Christmas vacation?”
“Yes. I’ll be around.”
“Okay. We’ll see you soon.” Mom says, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
“For sure, mom. Thanks for dinner.” I kiss her cheek and give her a hug.
“You’re welcome.” She gives me a wink and I lift my arm, saying goodbye to everyone.
“I’ll be around all Christmas. You’ll be sick of seeing me, I’m sure.” I say as I put my shoes on.
I’d bet money on hearing Tyler say, ‘Yeah, I’ll bet’ as I walk out the door.
It’s weird, but, I can’t seem to get to Frankie’s fast enough. I find myself exceeding the speed limit as I drive there. When I pull up, it takes a few minutes for someone to answer the door, and when Frankie does, she looks like absolute shit.
“Frankie? Jesus Christ, what’s wrong?” I ask.
Her hair is tied up in a ponytail on her head. She’s in a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, and her face is as pale as a sheet of paper. “Food poisoning.”
“Oh, shit.” I say, feeling so awful for her.
“Mom has it, too. It’s from the goddamn turkey. She probably didn’t cook it long enough. We’ve both been puking for the last two hours.” She pauses. “Are you sure you want to come in?”
“I think I can handle it. Is your mom okay?” I ask, concerned.
“Looks like she didn’t get it as bad. She had more of the other stuff.” Frankie says, practically crawling to the couch.
“Hi, Frankie’s mom…” I chuckle mirthlessly.
“Isabelle.” She says. “You must be Grant.” She’s practically incoherent, clearly, as she doesn’t remember me. She’s laying on the loveseat next to the couch. Isabelle is clearly smaller than her daughter.
“Yes. It’s nice to meet you. Is there anything I can do for either of you?”
“Throw the fucking turkey out. Burn it.” Frankie says, while her mother tisks her for the language.
I look in the kitchen. It’s a disgusting mess. The bunkers in the army weren’t as messy after the entire battalion had been in there eating. “Consider it done.” I spend the next thirty minutes throwing every food item I can find that isn’t nailed down, out. The kitchen is squeaky clean when I poke my head out. Isabelle is nowhere to be found. “Is your mom okay?”
“Puking.” Frankie says. “Upstairs.”
“Should I go check on her?”
“Trust me. No. She’s going to bed. There’s a pail in her room.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“How about you just kill me and get it over with?” she says. She’s curled up on the couch, almost looking like she’s doubled over the way that she’s positioned.
“Are you in pain?”
“Well, yeah. My stomach feels like it’s going to explode. I’m going to puke in another five minutes, probably.” Then her face goes blank. “Shit.” And I’ve never seen a woman run so fast in all my life. The bathroom door is open and the light is already on, toilet seat is up, this loo is ready for action. Frankie sticks her head in the bowl and wretches loudly.
I bend down and rub her back as she tosses her cookies. When she finally stops, she sniffles. I hand her a tissue off the back of the toilet tank. “You feel better?”
“No.” she moans. “This is…awful. Great Christmas.”
“Yeah. Here.” I say, flushing for her, helping her up off the floor. I deliver her back to the couch and she curls back up. I hear the upstairs toilet flush, too, and wonder if they’re in competition. “You want to watch television or something? Take your mind off things?”
“No. Shhh.” She says, and I nod. I look around and find an afghan draped over the back of the couch. Pulling it down, I tuck it around her, and she closes her eyes, snuggling in.
Heading into the kitchen, I dial Daniel’s number. He answers on the second ring. “Hey, Grant. What’s going on?” I assume he’s stating who it is for the benefit of my family, who is likely eavesdropping.
“Daniel, Frankie’s got food poisoning. Her mother, too.”
“Oh, wow. That sucks.”
“Yeah. Is there anything I can give her?”
“No, man. It’s best to just let her body void it all. Keep her hydrated with little sips of water, but that’s all you can do. If she starts running a fever, get her into the hospital, that’s a sign of bacterial infection.”
“She’s pale as a sheet, man.”
“Yeah, she would be. Vomiting like that can be traumatic to the body.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Hey, keep me posted. If she’s got to go in, I’ll meet you there.”
“How long should she be puking for?”
“Until it’s all out of her system. Is she still vomiting food particles?”
“Yeah.”
“Keep giving her water. Let it all come up, and then be prepared, because it’s going to start coming out the other end, too. Hydration is paramount here. Pinch the skin on the back of her hand. If it puckers and takes more than a second or two to flatten, she’s dehydrated, and you’ve got to bring her in.” he pauses. “Hang on a second. Ripley wants to talk to you.”
“Grant? Are you with Frankie? What’s wrong?”
“Hey, Ripley. She and her mother have food poisoning.”
“Oh, no.” You can hear the anguish in her voice. “Do you need me to bring anything? Are they okay?”
“I’ll keep you posted.”
“Yes, please.” She begs. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Tell Daniel I’ll talk to him later.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Bye.”
“Was that Ripley?” Frankie asks. Her voice is scratchy.
“Yeah. She was just worried about you.” I say, walking back to her. “Daniel says that I have to keep you hydrated. Can I get you something?” I ask, feeling her head. She doesn’t feel warmer than usual. I use an old trick my mom used to use when we were kids, by placing my lips on her forehead. Nope. I don’t think she’s feverish. Her forehead actually feels kind of cool.
“Just some water, Grant. I’ll sip it slow.” She says, lifting her head. “Maybe bring some up for mom, too.”
“For sure.”
I pour two glasses of water, finding bendy straws in a cupboard over the stove, and I take one up to Isabelle. She’s passed out on her bed, so I just place the glass on her nightstand and tap her gently on the shoulder, letting her know that I brought her some water. She moans twice, indicating that she heard me, and I head back downstairs. Frankie is in the bathroom again, but this time the door is closed. “Frankie? You okay in there?” I ask, tapping on the door.
“Don’t come in here, Grant.” She warns, and I hear her puking.
“Frankie, I can handle it.” I say.
“No.” she says between puking. “It’s coming out both ends.”
“It’s okay.” I snuffle a gentle laugh. “I’m coming in, okay?”
She doesn’t protest. I open the door, and her face is in the trash bin, while she’s sitting on the toilet. Her body is making all kinds of crazy noises, and it smells so bad, I open the window that’s above the toilet.
Her breathing is ragged as she stops throwing up. I flush the toilet for her. “I’m too hot.” She whines, and I help her take her robe off. Under is a pair of cotton grannie jammies. I hang her robe on the hook behind the door, and crouch down to her level. Her face is still in the garbage pail.
“You want me to clean that out?”
“No, don’t…I’m not done.” she says, on the verge of tears.
I rub her thigh.
“Grant, I’m shitting. Are you sure you want to be in here?”
Before I can answer, she adds. “It’s coming out like a tidal wave. I don’t think you want to be in here.”
“Frankie, I’ve watched grown men bleed to death. I think I can handle diarrhea.”
“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
For the next thirty minutes, I remain crouched on the floor in front of her, comforting her, while things happen that I didn’t know the human body could do. The poor girl is in tears by the time it finally subsides. She’s quiet for a minute, and I bend up, noticing that she’s dozing inside the pail, with her chin resting on it. “Come on. Let’s get you up to bed.” I say, and help support her in a semi-standing position, while she wipes herself. I dump the bucket after flushing, and then flush again, setting the bucket down. It’s not even a question. I drape her legs over my arm and carry her upstairs. She hasn’t got the strength to make it an inch, let alone up a flight of stairs.
After I lay her on the bed, I pull the waste basket over to her head, and press my lips against her forehead. Still okay. She’s fast asleep before I leave the bedroom to go clean up downstairs. Through the night, I get up every hour to check on mom, who doesn’t vomit any more, thank God. And neither does Frankie. But I still wake her up every hour to make sure she drinks. When the morning comes, she’s still completely out of it, but no longer looks as white as a sheet.
I hear her mom get up and I go check on her. She asks for some juice, so I get it for her. She’s looking better, too. When I go into Frankie’s room, she hears me and lifts her head. “It lives.” I say, snuggling into bed with her. “Well, you look better.”
Her eyes search mine. “Did you stay here the whole night?” her voice is sleepy.
“Yes.” I nod. “I wasn’t going to leave you and your mom. That would be awful.”
She lifts her head. “How is mom? Is she okay?”
“Yeah. I just brought her some juice.”
She lays her head back down and slides a finger down my cheek. “You’re the best.”
I kiss her forehead. “You owe me one. Now, to be fair, I never get sick, but the next time…you’re on duty.”
“I’m not great with sick people.” she admits. “That’s why I’m in HR.”
We can hear her phone ringing from downstairs. And that’s when I realize that Frankie doesn’t know about Tyler and Ripley. “I’ll go grab it.”
I trot downstairs and grab her phone, and then trot back upstairs, just making it in time before the ringing stops. “It’s Ripley” I say, checking the screen. Frankie takes it, putting it on speakerphone, I’m guessing for my benefit.
“Hey,” she says.
“How are you feeling?” Ripley asks.
“Like I had food poisoning.”
“Are you feeling any better?”
“Maybe a little. Grant kindly stayed over and took care of mom and I, God bless him.”
“Really? That was really sweet of him.”
Frankie pats my chest as I lay facing her. “Yeah. Any man who can handle me barfing and shitting through a straw is a keeper in my book.”
I scoff a laugh. “Nice.”
“And my mom, too.” She adds.
“To be fair, I didn’t see or hear your mom doing any of that.” I point out.
I wonder if Ripley is going to tell her, or wait until she’s feeling better. And then I get my answer. “Frankie, I told everyone that I’m pregnant.”
“I figured you would. I couldn’t hold on to that tidbit of info for that long.” Frankie admits.
“Well, it’s not fair to hold you in suspense when your main man over there already knows.”
“What are you talking about?” Frankie asks.
“Tyler proposed.”
Frankie’s mouth widens. “No way!”
“Way.” She gushes.
“Put me on FaceTime so I can see the ring! But don’t mind how shitty I look.”
She sighs. “Okay, I’ll call you back.”
Her phone rings and she answers. Ripley’s face appears on the screen. “Hey, you really do look like crap.” She chuckles.
“Thanks…bitch. Show me the rock.” She’s flippant.
Ripley turns the camera so we can see the ring. It’s nice. Big enough that we can actually see it well. “Very nice. So, when are you getting hitched?”
“We’re considering doing it while Mallorie and Aleks are here.”
My eyes widen. “You’re doing it during Christmas? How the hell are you going to pull that off?”
“That’s where I’m at.” Ripley says to me. “But Grant wants Mallorie to be here, and we don’t want to wait until the baby is born, or until I’m big enough that there won’t be enough fabric in the entire state of North Carolina to cover me.”
That gets a laugh from Frankie. “Well, we gotta talk wedding stuff later. I’ll call you later when I feel more human and we’ll get together.”
“Sounds good. I’ll let you go for now.”
“Okay. See you.”
Grant looks at me. “I should go get you some toast or something.”
“Never mind me, you must be starving, too.”
I slide a finger down her cheek, ignoring her fussing. “What’s your pleasure, babe? I don’t have a lot of experience in the kitchen, but I’ll do what I can.”
I look at him longingly. “Grant, I’d kill for a shower and a toothbrush.”
“Okay. But, I’m staying right here.”
I kiss his forehead. “I wouldn’t imagine you being anywhere else.”
Chapter 13
Frankie
Grant and I decide to take a nap after breakfast and a shower. The man always has a change of clothes and toiletries in his truck. He’s like a vagabond. Mom wakes up and has some breakfast with us. I tell her about Ripley and Tyler and the fact that they’re expecting and getting married, and that they’re considering doing the deed during Christmas.
“That doesn’t spell out shotgun wedding at all.” Mom says facetiously.
“God, mom, you’re so seventies.” I growl. “People get married any time, for all kinds of reasons, and it isn’t offensive.”
“Well, if your father had had that idea in mind, we might have never gotten married.” She states.
“How long were you married for?” Grant asks.
“Not long.” Mom scoffs. “Once Frankie was born, he hit the pavement. Frankie doesn’t even remember him.”
I lift a finger. “True story.”
“And you never heard from him after he left?” Grant asks, dumbfounded.
“No, Opie, he never looked back.” I chuckle. “I know that your family is basically like the Cleavers, but that doesn’t mean that all families are like that.”
