Page 45 of The Party Line

“Then it didn’t affect you like it did me,” he groaned.

I kissed him on the cheek. “I’m teasing. I’d give it a fifteen out of ten.”

“Then we can be more than friends,” he asked.

“If we take it slow. We’ve only known each other thirteen days.”

“But who’s counting?” He grinned. “And besides, thirteen is my lucky number.”

Chapter Fourteen

I’m not going to no doctor,” Jasper declared between coughs on Friday evening.

His favorite old gray sweater was hanging on the back of a kitchen chair. I grabbed it and draped it around his shoulders, where it hung just about the same. “You’ve been sick for a week, and you’re getting worse. That cough sounds like a freight train engine. Either you will let me drive you or else I’m calling the ambulance. You lose your breath every time you cough, and in between, you are wheezing louder than Aunt Gracie’s snores. Do you realize that whatever you have could go into pneumonia if it hasn’t already? That would mean you would most likely have to stay in the hospital for days. And you know I’m not going to bring you food.”

He folded his frail arms over his chest and glared at me. “Only doctor I ever been to in my life was the one who checked me out to go in the army, and another one when”—he had to stop and cough into the bandanna he’d pulled from the bib pocket on his overalls—“when I fell and hit my head on the sidewalk.” He managed a weak chuckle. “I was pretty drunk that time. Had to have six stitches, but the nurse was right pretty.”

I opened the door and stood beside it. “Me or the ambulance. Your choice.”

“You are as stubborn as Gracie,” he snapped.

“That’s the best compliment I’ve had all day,” I said.

“You can take me, but I’m not stayin’ in that place. There’s sick people in there, and I might catch something. I’ve got to live until my birthday, remember?” He stood up and shuffled outside.

I followed him out onto the porch. “It’s cool out here this evening. Let’s put your sweater on. And yes, Jasper, I remember that your birthday is coming up soon, right after fall strawberry season. If you don’t get well, you might end up having to celebrate it in a nursing home.”

He didn’t argue when I helped him with his sweater, but he stopped before he took a step out into the yard. “Wait a minute! What about Sassy?”

“She’ll be fine until we get back,” I assured him. “And I can call Connor if we’re late.”

“How about we just go to one of them instant-care places?” he asked.

I looped my arm in his. “Do you meanurgentcare?”

He grabbed his handkerchief and coughed into it. “Whatever it’s called. They can check me out and give me a prescription I don’t intend to fill. I’ll come home and have my hot toddies until I get well.”

“We are going to the emergency room, not urgent care.” I hoped my tone left no more room for argument.

“I was wrong, Lila,” he said as we headed around the house to where my SUV was parked.

“Oh, yeah.” I walked slowly and made sure I kept him on the gravel driveway, which was more level than the grass. “Want to explain that?”

“You are more stubborn”—he stopped a minute to catch his breath—“and bullheaded than Gracie ever was.”

“I had a good teacher.” I opened the passenger door to my vehicle and settled him inside. “Matter of fact, I had three good teachers when it comes right down to it. You and Aunt Gracie, and Mama.”

“Don’t go layin’ blame on me.” He tried to chuckle, but it made him cough even more. “You are wastin’ your time drivin’ all the way to San Antonio. We got us one of the drive-through places in Poteet—what did you call it? Urgent care? It’s closer than goin’ all that distance.”

I slid in under the steering wheel and started the engine. “San Antonio isn’t that far. If you are good and don’t cry if they have to give you a shot, then we’ll stop for ice cream on the way back home.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t bribe me like that—and I’m not takin’ a shot,” he declared. “I don’t like pills, but I hate needles.”

“Then no ice cream,” I said.

He lifted his chin up and looked down his long, thin nose at me. “I bet I can talk a pretty nurse into giving me a lollipop.”

“You just proved my point.” I backed out of the driveway and headed down the lane.

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