Free Sullivan by Linda Devlin Page A

doorway startled Eden.
    "What the hell are you doing?"
    She spun around to see a thin old man leaning against the doorjamb. His skin was so wrinkled he looked a hundred years old, his eyes were sunk into his head, and his sparse white hair looked as if it had just left the pillow; it stood out in all directions.
    "C-c-cleaning," she said, her nervousness making her stutter. "Isn't that all right?"
    The old man rolled his eyes. "If this room is clean, everyone will want a clean room," he mumbled, his voice weak and watery.
    "Oh, you must be Mr. McClure," she said with a wavering smile. "I understand you've been ill." In truth, he looked like death warmed over. "I do hope you're feeling better today."
    "No," he snapped, "I am not feeling better."
    "You'd best get back to bed, then," she said firmly. "Why, whoever is looking after you will be worried if they find your bed empty."
    His eyes narrowed. His already thin lips thinned a bit more. "No one's taking care of me, missy. Don't need no one. I can take care of myself."
    Eden's heart went out to the old man. It was terribly sad to be old and alone, sick and without anyone to care for you, and too stubborn to admit to the need for help. She couldn't possibly allow him to continue in this way.
    "My grandmother had a home remedy that was sure to cure any ailment," she said in her most sensible voice, giving Mr. McClure a warm smile. "It's just a simple tea with a few secret ingredients, and I promise you it's quite tasty. Perhaps you'd allow me to make it for you."
    "I don't need any damned tea," he rumbled.
    Eden's smile faded. "Please don't curse in front of the children," she said in a lowered voice. "It isn't proper."
    Mr. McClure didn't argue with her; in fact, his sunken eyes filled with tears and his lips trembled slightly. "You sound just like my mama, God rest her soul."
    Eden couldn't bear to see the old man make the effort to stand there any longer, so she promptly escorted him from her room, offering her arm for support and leading him down the dusty hallway to his own quarters. Impossibly, the room was in worse shape than her own, with a broken chair by the single window and an odor of illness that would probably never wash out.
    He crawled into bed, and Eden opened the window. "It's a lovely day," she said. "The fresh air will make you feel better."
    "I don't like fresh air," Mr. McClure grumbled.
    "Well, you're going to get it anyway," she said with a smile. "When was the last time you ate?"
    "I had some beef yesterday about lunchtime."
    If it had been prepared by the same woman who'd prepared her own dinner and breakfast, Eden was quite sure he hadn't eaten much. And he looked so weak! "I'll make you some tea and soup."
    He made a face that was, impossibly, more sour than his normal expression. "I hate Lydia's soup."
    "I'll make it myself," she said.
    "I don't want any damned soup," he grumbled. "Get out of my room."
    Eden sighed and made her way to the kitchen. Some people, and perhaps all men, just didn't know what was best for them.
    * * *
    It was nearly noon when Sullivan left his room. His head pounded, a consequence of drinking too much whiskey last night, and the bruises on his body ached in a way they hadn't when he'd been on the road. He felt like everything had caught up with him at once.
    He descended to the second floor slowly, each step calculated. In a couple of days the ache would be gone, and he could head back to Webberville for a short visit.
    Lifting his head, he caught sight of a vision in blue, and he ached all the more. Eden Rourke, a smile on her face, her pale hair piled loosely atop her head, a slight, feminine sway in her walk, came toward him with a tray in her hands. The bowl on the tray she carried steamed enticingly.
    "Surely you're not just now rising?" she asked, her smile widening. "Really, Sinclair, how decadent of you."
    Decadent? When he looked at her, he felt nothing but decadent. He wanted to rip that plain blue dress off of