Dear Emily Read Free

then looked at her, startled. “God, Emily, it’s a hundred and three. I’m going to call a doctor.”
    “No. You’re almost a doctor. Just take care of me. There’s nothing they can do for the flu and you know it. Fluids, rest, and aspirin for the fever. Trust me, Ian. Don’t call a doctor.” All she could think of was the ten days’ pay they were going to lose.
    “For now, but if your fever doesn’t come down, I’m calling a doctor,” Ian fretted. “Soup, do we have canned soup? I’ll get some when I go out. I was going to make you a hot toddy. We have brandy, don’t we? Coffee for me, maybe some toast. Do you want some?”
    “Ian, go to class. Call me during the day.”
    “Absolutely not. I’m staying right here with you.”
    By midmorning Emily’s fever was down a degree. Ian had used the last of the alcohol to rub her down three different times. She was on her second toddy when he announced that he had to go to the drugstore for more alcohol and aspirin.
    Emily could barely keep her eyes open. “Swear to me you won’t call a doctor. I’m feeling better, really I am. By this evening my fever will be down. I mean it, Ian.”
    “What the hell kind of doctor am I going to make if I listen to you, Emily? You need a qualified physician. This is home care at its worst.”
    “You’re the best medicine for me. I want your promise,” Emily croaked. “Besides, you’re going to be spending money at the drugstore. I feel better. It has to run its course.”
    It took three days before Emily was able to shake the chills, the fever, and the sweats. The soreness in her throat eased some and her ears, with drops from the drugstore, ceased to ache. The toddies and the aspirin had finally worked. Or else, as Emily had said, the flu was running its course. She drank constantly, urged on by Ian, who sat at her side the whole time. “You look worse than I feel,” Emily whispered when she woke from a nap on the fourth day.
    “I feel like shit,” Ian said quietly. “Sleeping in this chair has given me a permanent crick in my neck. Guess what, I ironed today.”
    “Good, the job is yours,” Emily quipped. “It looks so nice outside today, Ian, open the windows and let’s air out this room. I don’t want you to catch whatever I have.”
    “I think it’s a little late for that,” Ian said, banging at the window. He finally raised it. “If you think you can handle being alone, I’m going back to class tomorrow. You have to promise to stay in bed, though.”
    Emily nodded. “I’ll be fine. How far behind are you going to be?”
    “I’ll catch up.”
    “I’m so sorry, Ian. I appreciate all you’ve done.”
    “You were pretty sick. This is the last time I’m listening to you, Emily. This has been eating at me, your stupidity and my stupidity for going along with it. I know better.”
    Which meant she was really the stupid one. She didn’t know better. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
    “Emily, I was so worried about you. I felt so…helpless. You just lay there. I love you,” he said gruffly. “But no, I am not taking over the ironing. How about some scrambled eggs?”
    “Sounds good. No toast, though. My throat is still a little sore.”
    “Another toddy, okay?”
    “Hey, I’m hooked.” She smiled. “I love you, Ian, with all my heart.”
    “My heart returns the feeling.”
    Emily scrunched herself into the mound of pillows. Everything happened for a reason. She’d gotten sick and Ian had realized how much he loved her. He’d taken care of her, putting his own life on hold for a few days. “Thank you, God,” she whispered, “for giving me such a kind, wonderful husband.” Another part of her mind shrieked, fool, fool, fool.
    Only time would tell if she was a fool or not.
     
    Ian was right, Emily thought as she stepped from the shower. The last three years had gone by in a giant, tired blur. How was it possible that they were approaching their third anniversary? What she wanted,