Free Wild Fire by Linda I. Shands Page B

room stayed still.
    â€œSit up a little.” Dad’s hand on her back eased her forward as he slid another pillow behind her head. “There, do you feel any better?”
    Kara nodded and realized it was true. Her stomach wasn’t churning, and she didn’t feel as hot. But when she tried to talk she sounded like a cross between a bullfrog and a mouse.
    â€œMy throat,” she managed to croak.
    Anne moved to her side. “Drink this. It will give you strength.”
    Kara took the mug Anne offered her and sniffed the steaming liquid. Peppermint. And chamomile. She couldn’t tell what else. Anne waited patiently while she blew on the tea to cool it, then sipped. The warm brew eased the tightness in her throat, and the sweetness soothed her stomach. “Good,” she managed.
    The cook nodded. “The herbs will help you heal.” She tucked the covers around Kara’s waist. “Rest now.”
    Her father felt her forehead for the tenth time and peered into her eyes. “You’ve been out of it for sixteen hours. Anne hasn’t slept. We’ve been taking turns watching you and calling in your symptoms on the radio. Doctor Glenn is convinced you have the flu, but if we hadn’t been able to rouse you this morning, Mark was going to fly him in.”
    Kara groaned. All this trouble because of her. She felt sleepy and disoriented. Sixteen hours. It must be Monday morning. More guests would check in this afternoon. She had to get up. There were cabins to be cleaned, and Anne needed her help in the dining room. But she felt so weak. She gave in and closed her eyes.
    When she opened them again, Ryan was sitting on the foot of her bed, his baseball cards spread out all over the covers.
    â€œRy?”
    He jumped, then grinned. “Hi, Kara. It’s my turn to sit with you.” His teeth crunched something, and she detected the faint smell of butterscotch. “Dad said not to get too close. You might be catchy.”
    She tried to laugh but had to settle for a smile.
    â€œIt’s okay. Dad said not to make you talk. I’m supposed to go get him if you wake up.” He pushed up on his knees and peered into her eyes. “Are you really awake, Kara? Dad said you might hall-ucin-gate—then I’m supposed to run.”
    Kara did laugh then, but even to her own ears she sounded like a tortured mule. Ryan jumped off the bed and fled, leaving behind a trail of candy wrappers and baseball cards .
    It was Wednesday before she could stand up long enough to take a shower. By the time she dressed and dried her hair, her intentions to get back to work faded. The best she could do was sit at the counter in the kitchen and watch Anne prepare lunch.
    â€œYour strength will return,” the cook assured her. “Then I will sleep for a week.” She flashed Kara a teasing smile.
    â€œThanks for taking care of me,” Kara voiced her thoughts. “And for doing all the chores. You must be tired.”
    Anne nodded. “A little.” She pushed a pan of biscuits into the oven, then lifted the lid on a pot of vegetable beef stew.
    Kara’s mouth watered, and she realized she was actually hungry again.
    Without asking, the cook poured a ladle full of stew into a bowl and set it in front of Kara. “Ryan dries dishes and can lay a fire.”
    For some reason the words stung, but Kara could see no hint of scolding on Anne’s face.
    She had been pretty tough on Ry lately. Her conscience had been prodding her for weeks. But , she reminded herself, most of the time he asks for it. Lying. Fooling with the radio. Refusing to listen when I tell him to do something .
    She frowned. “How do you get him to help? I never can.”
    Anne handed her a napkin. “I raised five brothers.”
    Kara almost dropped her spoon. “Five!”
    The woman shrugged. “Our father worked hard.”
    Kara was curious. Anne talked a lot about her father. She had