Page 32 of Charlie Takes a Chance

“Yes?”

“Go back to bed.”

With that, she spins on her heel and marches toward the mudroom. It still has a strong skunk smell in it. It’ll probably last another month with how stinky those dogs were.

But she doesn’t seem fazed by it. I move my aching body back toward the bedroom and sink down on the bed, and I hope I never have to move again.

Someone is knocking on my door. I crack open my eyes. My body is drenched in sweat. It’s so annoying to have food poisoning and a fever.

“Come in,” I croak.

The door swings open a few inches, and I can see Charlie’s concerned face. “Are you doing okay?”

I nod slowly.

“Well, that’s good, because I just talked to Sharon at the Shaky Pine Cafe. I tried to ask in a roundabout way about the soup and explain that you might have gotten food poisoning from their cooking. But it turns out, there is a flu bug going around. Apparently, their usual staff was out this week. The soup tasted weird because they accidentally added vinegar. But the person who made the soup went home sick that afternoon.”

“That explains the fever,” I mumble.“I don’t know how you’ve escaped it though.”

Charlie takes a small step back, closing the door a little bit. “Listen, I don’t mind throwing alfalfa bales, but I draw the line at taking care of someone with the plague.”

I try to smile, but my stomach starts to roil. With a burst of strength, I leap out of bed and sprint toward the bathroom.

Charlie runs down the hall ahead of me, keeping a good distance between us. I run into the bathroom and lose the little bit of water I managed to drink.

As I hover there for a moment and try to get up the courage to walk back to the bedroom, I feel someone pat my back slowly.

I close my eyes. Charlie is comforting me. Even though she doesn’t want to get sick, she’s patting my back. I don’t know ifI’m the most embarrassed I’ve ever been in my life—or the most comforted.

“There, there.”Pat, pat, pat. “It’s going to be okay.”

It probably won’t. I’m going to dissolve into a puddle of mortification right here on the bathroom floor.

Her nails poke my back, and I glance over my shoulder.

What I see has me laughing for the first time in twenty-four hours.

Charlie is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, holding the handle of a broom as she pats my back with it.

I rock back on my heels and chuckle.

She grins back at me. “I didn’t want you to be alone, but I definitely don’t want what you’ve got.”

She raises the broom and pats my back again.

“Careful, these germs might crawl up the broom handle and get you.” The broom drops away from my shoulder.

“What I’d originally come to tell you was that everybody is fed and happy, and I’m going to work on the house.” She sets a small scrap of paper on the bathroom counter. “Call me if you decide to die.”

“You’ll bring the shovel?”

She grins. “Something like that.”

She turns to leave.

“Thank you.”

She stops and turns around to look at me. I know I’m a horrendous sight. I’m sitting on a bathroom floor, leaning against a wall. I’m probably flushed and dripping sweat.

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