Free Strung by Bella Costa Page A

the crutches will allow and manage to find a small bucket under the sink.  I grab a bottle of water from the fridge on my way past.  With the bottle tucked under my chin and holding the bucket and crutch together in my right hand, I quickly scoot back to the sofa.  I barely have time to get the bucket between his legs when he leans forward and retches.  Lovely!   I am not a queasy person, but something about seeing this strong manly hunk reduced to this, pulls at my stomach and heart.
    I leave him wrestling with his stomach and head to a bathroom in search of two towels.  When I return it looks as though he may have stopped retching, for the time being anyway.  He is still leaning forward on his knees and groaning mournfully into his hands.  I offer him a towel to wipe his face drape the other loosely around his neck.  When he has recovered a little, I pass him the bottled water and he takes a few tentative sips.
    "Thank you."
    "My pleasure; I think."
    "Must have been something I ate."
    "I don't think so," I say thoughtfully.  "How long has your throat being playing up?"
    "It's been bothering me a little for about three days.  Only this morning it's got quite bad."
    "Mmm.  Look at me."  I settle awkwardly into the seat next to him and he turns toward me.
    "Chin up."  He obediently lifts his chin and I feel his glands.  I avoid looking directly into his eyes; the feel of his skin under his soft stubble is enough to quicken my pulse.
    "Mouth been dry?"  He nods a little uncertainly.   I know the feeling!
    "Ever had Mumps?"  He shakes his head.
    "Been vaccinated?" 
    "I don't know."
    "Well given that you appear to have a case of the dreaded Mumps, I very much doubt it."  I sit back letting my hands drop to my lap suddenly aware of his knee pressing against mine.
    "Really!  Mumps is for little kids," he looks at me incredulously.
    "I helped my mother a lot; she was a doctor.  Out in the bush I saw many cases of Mumps, Chicken Pox, Measles and Malaria.  Believe me, adults are not immune from kiddies maladies."
    "I'll go and call the doc."
    "Sit, I'll do it."
    "Isn't it contagious?"
    "Yes," I reply.
    "What about you?"
    "I was vaccinated as a baby.  Besides - if I were going to get it, I would have already - helping my mother at the clinic.  Unless you develop complications, there is nothing the doctor will be able to do for you anyway.  A couple of painkillers for the pain and fever, a compress for the swollen glands, plenty of fluids and bed is the best thing for you - Now!”  I order softly.
    Chayton stands - bucket, towels and water in hand - and creeps off towards the left wing of the house and I assume the room he is staying in.  I ring the number for the doctor who visited yesterday and run Chayton's symptoms by him.  He is in full agreement and I promise to contact him if there is any change.
    I check the time and decide to explore the gym before allowing myself a late lunch.  The gym is very well equipped.  I search through Savannah's closet for sweat pants and a tee shirt and hit all the machines that do not require the use of an ankle.
    Forty minutes later I have showered, re-strapped my ankle and I am ready for lunch.  I decide to search out Chayton first to see if he wants to attempt a bowl of soup.  I find the door to the room I think Chayton has crawled into.  It is the only door in the left wing, which is closed.  I knock gently but get no reply.
    Slowly opening the door, I poke my head into the room.  It is a huge room, bigger than Savannah's.  The furniture is all dark, heavy wood.  The white walls are broken by soft burgundy drapes and one wall is panelled in wood .  I find him, facedown, on top of burgundy satin bed covers, still fully dressed. 
    I swing into the room on my crutches, the plush cream carpet, absorbing the sound .  He looks so helpless, lying there.  Very gently, I lean over and sweep his fringe off one closed eye.  They say cuteness is what separates