Before she could say anything, Taylor leaned down and kissed her again, just as lightly, his gloved fingers caressing her cheek. He loved touching her, even with gloves on. He cupped her chin in his palm. “Miss me, all right?”
“I think I will,” Lindsay said, and knew it was true.
Taylor didn’t have luck or an attack of genius on the meat packer’s job. It took him three long days of pure grunt work to diagnose the problem and figure out how to fix it. The man who’d hired him, Mr. Closse, was looking over his shoulder every minute, wringing his fat hands and cursing technology in general.
Chicago was cold and raining. The wind was loud, even through the double windows in his hotel room. Taylor was tired, impatient, and he missed Eden. Missed her more than he’d thought he would. He looked forward to their long talks each night.
When the job was finally done and the five thousand dollars in his wallet, Taylor flew back to New York.
He was at Eden’s apartment by six o’clock that evening.
To his surprise, a young woman he’d never seen before opened the door. She stared at him and he stared back.
“Are you selling something? Why didn’t the super ring you up?”
“I’m Taylor and I’m a regular. The super and I drink beer together on Thursday afternoons at Clancy’s. Who are you? Where’s Eden? Is something wrong?”
“You’re a friend of Lin… Eden’s?”
She sounded shocked and plainly disbelieving. “Yes,” he said easily, “I’m a very good friend. I even spent Thanksgiving with her. Who are you?”
“I’m Gayle Werth. Please come in. I’m sorry for grilling you, but it’s just that Eden didn’t say anything about a man or a friend who was a man. Oh, dear, let me take your coat.”
“Where’s Eden?”
“In the bedroom. She’s got a great case of the flu and is at very low ebb right now.” Gayle studied him for a minute, still not believing that this hunk, this man who was every inch a man and not a gay, was a friend of Lindsay’s, that Lindsay would allow such a man to come within ten miles of her. How much of a friend? “I’ll see if she’s awake. It’s been a very long day for her.”
“I’m here now. I’ll take care of her.”
Again the young woman looked incredulous. At his offer? At his very presence? Taylor had the feeling it was the latter.
“You’ve known Eden long?”
“We went to boarding school together in Connecticut. The Stamford Girls’ Academy. Doesn’t that sound great? Anyway, we go all the way back to first ear piercings and exchanging formulas to cover zits. Sit down, Taylor, and I’ll see what Eden—”
“No, don’t bother.” Taylor walked past her, aware that she was on his heels, uncertain what she should do.
He walked quietly into Eden’s bedroom and stopped short. She was lying on her back, blankets up to her chin, and her face was white as rice paper. Her hair was in a lank dull braid. She was just opening her eyes. “Oh,” she said and moaned. “I had hoped you would call so I could tell you to keep your distance. Don’t come any closer, Taylor, I’m sicker than a pig.”
“I never get sick,” he said, and sat down on the bed beside her. He laid his palm on her forehead. “Fever. How long have you felt this bad? What have you taken and when?”
“Dr. Taylor, I presume?”
“Eden, what do you want me to do?”
“Oh, Gayle—”
Taylor turned to the woman who was standing there, nearly en pointe, looking worried, amazed, and uncertain. He said easily, as nonthreatening a smile as he could muster on his face, “It’s been a pleasure to meet a friend of Eden’s. You can leave her with me now, Gayle.”
If Lindsay hadn’t felt like garbage that had already been completely squashed in a compactor, she would have smiled at the utterly bewildered look on Gayle’s face. “He’s a friend, Gayle. It’s okay. I’ll call you tomorrow if I’m still alive. Thanks for letting me boss you around and for being such a wonderful slave.”
“You’re sure, Eden?”
“Very. Taylor will be leaving soon too.”
Taylor didn’t say anything. He nodded to Gayle and remained silent until he heard the front door close.
“Now, why the hell didn’t you tell me you were sick last night when I called you?”
“I wasn’t all that sick. It hit me during the night. I even swore along about two A.M. that I’d become a missionary, but it didn’t matter. God must have known I was lying because it just got worse.”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she stared at him, turning whiter than a moment before, and leapt from the bed. He saw long bare legs from beneath a sleep shirt saying Don’t Hit Psychiatrists or They’ll Shrink You on the back.
He followed her into the bathroom, waited until she was shuddering from dry heaves, then lifted her beneath the arms and helped her back into bed.
“You’re sick and it’s time to call the doctor.”
She fluttered her hand but didn’t argue. She felt too awful. Then, when he was reaching for the phone, she said, “I wish you wouldn’t. It’s just a stomach flu.”
“I have a friend who’ll tell me what’s best. Have you been throwing up all day?”
She nodded.
“You haven’t tried to eat?”
“Gayle made some Jell-O but it didn’t stay where it was supposed to.”
“Okay, just lie there and try to keep still.” Taylor called Dr. Metcalf, one of the New York City coroners. He had no intention of telling Eden that all the guy’s patients were always dead.
He got hold of Metcalf after a five-minute wait.
“Damn, Taylor, I was in the middle of an autopsy.”
Taylor told him the problem and asked his advice. He got it, thanked Metcalf, and hung up the phone.
“Okay, here’s what we do. First I trundle down to the market and pharmacy. Don’t move.”
Thirty minutes later, Lindsay looked at him with some surprise. The saltine cracker appeared to be happy in her belly, the weak tea as well.
“You get a cracker every hour and a bit of tea. Then we’ll see.”
“Thank you,” she said, and closed her eyes. “This is so embarrassing. Please go away. I can take care of myself.”
He said something very crude about her self-reliance, and her eyes flew open.
“But you shouldn’t have to take care of me, that’s crazy. You don’t even know me and—”
“Just shut up. I’m staying. I’m sleeping here, next to you, and if you have any problems, then I’ll handle them. Now, you’re to take two of these pills, then go to sleep. Can I use your toothbrush?”
14
Taylor / Eden
She was asleep when Taylor came back into the bedroom. He quietly undressed, taking off his shirt, shoes, and socks and laying them neatly over the back of one of her rattan chairs, next to a pair of panty hose and a bra. He usually slept nude; but not here, not with Eden. He wasn’t about to strip down to his skin and scare the daylights out of her.
He made sure there were crackers within reach, as well as nonaspirin, and Nugarin, a drug to help stop her vomiting.
He eased into bed beside her and pulled another blanket over her. He settled himself with a sheet. The apartment was quiet and warm. Her breathing was even and deep. He gently took her hand in his and lay there on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He could hear the soft ticking of her bedside clock and muted traffic from the window.