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He bent down, obliged Tic with some tug.
“We’ll find a place. I’d really like us to find a place we can start building that life together. So you’re stuck with me until.”
“Then stop playing with the dog and go get a hammer.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sam caught the bug at the tail end of its run through the tristate area.
He didn’t get as sick as most—and Clara credited that to his strong constitution, boosted by some extra doses of blood mixed in the soups and stews she made for him.
At his insistence, she’d gone back to work. Though they’d hit a nice jackpot with Zach Tarrington’s cash tips, they couldn’t afford to have both of them off work for too long.
She came home on his third day down to find him not only up and around, but with supper waiting.
“Sam! You shouldn’t’ve done all this. You only kicked that fever out yesterday.”
And to make sure it had stayed out, she put the back of her hand on his forehead.
“Feeling pretty good, and I figured we both deserved a steak dinner, so I went out and bought us some T-bones.”
He gave her a wink out of eyes she found, with relief, clear.
“I can’t fry up chicken like my Clara, but I know how to fry up a steak. You let me know when you were heading home, so I got them and taters staying warm in the oven. Got some peas and carrots going because I know how you are about putting something green on the plate.”
Delighted, she gripped her linked hands under her chin. “This is such a treat!”
“You sit right down at the table, babe. I’ll get us some cold beers.”
“I could sure use one. I put in a day and a half on shift, I swear. Three-car pileup, and we got the injured.” She sat, sighed as her feet thanked her. “A couple treated and released, another concussed, and we got two in surgery. I’m glad to put this day behind me.”
“You do that now.”
He brought the beer, then took out the plates to add the carrots and peas from the saucepan.
“This looks so good. Biscuits, too!”
“Not your homemade ones. I popped them out of the Doughboy roll.” Grinning, he mimed slapping the package on the edge of the table.
“They look just right. I’m so glad you’re well again.”
“Me, too, babe. We sure had us a down-and-out February and right into March between us. But that’s over now, and we’re good to go.”
“Spring can’t come soon enough.” She ate a bite of steak. “This sure hits the spot. You’re my hero, doll.”
“You’re my queen, babe. With all the blowing and hacking we’ve done, we haven’t had much time for our most important work.”
“That’s the God’s truth.” She cut open her baked potato. As the steam rose, she loaded on the margarine. “I did do some looking and calculating while you were down. But I can’t deny I was distracted with you so sick. Just couldn’t clear my head of the worry.”
“No worries now, babe.”
“There were two I kept going back to, but I need to look again, see if I get my feeling.”
“Tell me about them.”
“I got a man, sixty-two if I recollect. In for gall bladder surgery. Should’ve been routine, but he coded on them in recovery. Now we know, doll, there’s a reason for that.”
With the sober nod of the faithful, Sam cut another piece of meat. “His time. Just that simple.”