Dream Man

“There you are,” he said softly. “Hi, honey. I was getting worried.”

She couldn’t think; everything was fuzzy. Why was Dane holding her trapped like this? Her confusion must have been on her face, because he smiled and lifted one hand to smooth her tangled hair back from her face. “Everything’s okay. But you’ve been asleep for a long time, and I didn’t know if it was normal or not, so I decided to try to wake you up. It took some doing,” he added wryly.

“What …? Why are you here?” she mumbled, trying to sit up. He sat back, releasing the sheet, and she struggled into an upright position. It took so much effort that she ached. What was wrong? Had she been sick? The flu, maybe; her bones ached so, that could be the explanation. But why was Dane here?

“If I had to make a guess,” he said, his voice pitched to a soothing rumble, “I’d say your need for the john has to be critical. Can you make it there?”

When he mentioned it, she realized that he was exactly right. She nodded and clumsily pushed the sheet away. He stood so she could swing her legs off the bed. She didn’t have many clothes on, she thought weakly as she sat on the edge looking down at her bare limbs, but she just didn’t have the strength to care.

She tried to stand and sank heavily back onto the mattress. Dane bent and lifted her easily in his arms. Her head drooped into the curve of his shoulder and neck, and the position seemed so comfortable that she let it stay there.

She heard the hum of the air conditioner. The air was cold on her bare skin, and the radiant heat of his big body was heavenly as he carried her … somewhere. She closed her eyes.

“No you don’t,” he scolded, putting her on her feet. Her heavy eyelids opened and she saw that she was in her own bathroom. “Make an effort, honey. Now, can you manage by yourself or do you want me to stay in here with you?”

She wasn’t so tired that she couldn’t give him a “get real” look, and he chuckled. “I’m fine,” she said, though she heard the fretful weakness in her own voice. She ignored it. She would manage; she always had.

“Okay, but I’ll be right outside the door. Sing out if you need me.”

She stood swaying in the small room after he had left, staring longingly at the bathtub and wondering if she could stand upright long enough to take a shower. It would be so embarrassing if Dane had to help her, handling her naked body as if she were a helpless infant.

First things first, though. She was very thirsty, but there was a more pressing concern. When that was taken care of, she gulped two glasses of water, then stood with the cool glass pressed against her forehead. Her mind was still so foggy, every thought such an effort. She needed to remember something, she felt the urgency, but couldn’t concentrate long enough to bring it to mind. All she wanted to do was sleep. Blessed sleep. She didn’t want to remember.

She really wanted that shower a lot.

Finally the simplest thing to do was to turn on the water and step under it, clothes and all, so that’s what she did. She deliberately left the water not quite lukewarm, knowing that it would wake her up, not wanting to but accepting the necessity. She stood under the cool spray, her face turned up to catch the full blast, and let the fog dissipate. Let memory return. Let the water overcome and wash away the hot salty tears, the way a flood overcomes and obliterates a trickle.

Until it wasn’t enough and she buried her face in her hands, sobs shaking her body.

“Marlie … ?” The worried, impatient tone changed at once, became quiet and steady. “I know, honey. I know it’s bad. But you’re not alone now. I’ll take care of you.”

The water was turned off, and his strong hands were on her, helping her out of the tub. She stood dripping on the mat, her eyes still closed while tears tracked down her cheeks.

“You’re soaked,” he said, still in that soothing, rocksteady tone. “Let’s get these clothes off—”

“No,” she managed, the word strangled.

“You can’t keep them on.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“Okay. Just open your eyes for me, honey, and tell me that you can manage, and I’ll get some dry clothes for you and leave you to it. But I want to see those eyes before I do.”

She swallowed, and took two deep breaths to control the tears. When she thought she could handle it, she forced herself to open her eyes and look up at him. “I can do it.”

His gaze was piercing as he studied her, then he gave a short nod. “I’ll get your clothes. Tell me what you want.”

She tried to think, but nothing came to mind. “I don’t care. Anything.”

“Anything,” left to his decision, was a pair of panties and her cotton robe. While he waited outside, she stripped off her wet clothes, clumsily dried herself, then dressed in what he had provided. She was rubbing her wet hair with a towel when he decided she had had enough time, and opened the door again.

“Here, I’ll do it,” he said, taking the towel from her and putting down the lid on the toilet for her to sit down. She did, and he carefully blotted all the excess water from her hair, then took the comb and smoothed out all the tangles. She sat there like a child, letting him minister to her, and the small attentions gave her a comfort she’d never had before. Numbly she realized that what he’d said was true: She wasn’t alone this time. Dane was with her. He had been there last night, and he was still there, taking care of her, lending her his strength when she had none.