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Still, he knew—he watched TV!—the cops held stuff back. So happy they could keep the van home and he could get it all painted fresh and new.
It was damn cold work, even though he’d jury-rigged a kind of tent over it, had a space heater going.
When he had it finished, tested to make sure the paint was good and dry, he went inside for Clara.
He found her just pushing up from the couch.
“I’m sorry, Sam, I meant to get a meal going, but I fell asleep, just dropped right off sitting here folding laundry.”
“No wonder, you’ve been working night and day. You’re looking flushed.”
“I think I’ve got a fever. Throat’s scratchy. It’s no surprise I’d catch this damn thing.”
“You’re calling in sick to work for tomorrow. Monday, too.”
“I hate doing that.” She held a hand up to her neck, as even speaking felt like broken glass scraping the inside of her throat. “But I can’t go in if I’m running a fever.”
“You’re going to get yourself into bed, babe. I’ll make you some soup, some toast, some tea.”
He laid a hand on her forehead. “You’re warm, all right. I’m going to tuck you in, but first, I’ve got something might perk you up.”
He wrapped a throw around her shoulders, walked her to the door.
He opened the door, said: “Ta-da!”
“Sam!” His name came out in a croak, but didn’t lack enthusiasm. “It looks beautiful. Why, you’d think it just came off the lot and was that color all along!”
“The navy blue you wanted.”
“I just love how it looks. Why, it’s painted just like a professional would.”
She didn’t mention the blue hazed some under the windshield wipers, or on the edge of the right headlight.
He’d worked so hard!
“When you’re feeling all better, we’ll take it out for a drive. Now, let’s get you in bed. Don’t you worry about the laundry. I’ll get it folded.”
“Oh, Sam, that’s not your job.”
“It’s my job until my woman’s well again. I’ll take care of you until you are.”
Emotion choked her; fatigue drained her. “You always take care of me.”
“Extra-special care.”
He helped her off with her shoes, helped her change into a nightgown. Then plumped up the pillows so she could sit up in bed.
“I’ll get the thermometer and some cold meds. Then make you that soup.”
“I do feel poorly.”
“Don’t you worry. I’ll be right here. We’ll take your temperature, and you call in. You need a couple days, babe, and you’ve been picking up the slack for others who needed it. You got sick because you were there to help others.”
“That’s what we do. We were called to help. I could sure use that tea, doll, with some honey. My throat’s just raw.” A cough snuck up on her and hurt like fire.
“I’ll put the kettle on, and get your phone. How about I set up the laptop in here for you, so you can watch a movie or something?”
“You think of everything.”