Page 24 of The Pretender (Mifflin County Mysteries #3)
A NTHONY GROANED , SAT UP IN bed, and rubbed his eyes against the invading light coming into the room, where the shade had been partially opened. It was hard to believe this was Christmas Day, and here he was still sick as a dog with itchy blisters covering many parts of his body.
I should never have come here , he thought. If I’d stayed in New York instead of taking pity on Rosa and bringing her here, I wouldn’t have been exposed to her little brother and ended up with a nasty case of chicken pox—or wasserpareble or whatever the Amish call it.
Anthony reached for his glass of water and took a drink.
Who am I kidding? I could have been exposed to the pox or any other disease while living and working in New York City.
Besides, staying here with the Petersheim family hasn’t been all bad.
Rosa and I have done a few enjoyable things together, and I’ve been given the opportunity to use my culinary skills for her family, which has been nice.
Anthony placed the empty glass back on the nightstand beside his bed and grimaced.
He wanted a refill but didn’t have the energy to go downstairs or make his way to the bathroom sink.
Anthony couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so zapped of energy.
No doubt Rosa and her family members were gathered around the table about now, enjoying their Christmas feast. A meal Anthony wished he could have fixed for them and been able to partake of himself.
He figured Rosa might bring him up a plate of food sometime today, but the truth was, he didn’t have much of an appetite.
The only thing Anthony really wanted at the moment was for the terrible itching to stop so he wouldn’t be tempted to scratch.
“I’ll probably end up with all kinds of scars from my scratching,” he muttered.
Sometimes Anthony would wake up from a deep sleep, scratching at places that itched so bad he couldn’t help himself.
Anthony’s cell phone vibrated on the table beside his bed. He’d turned the ringer off so he wouldn’t be disturbed while trying to sleep and hadn’t taken the phone off vibrate mode yet. He reached for the device and clicked it on. “Hello,” he rasped.
“Merry Christmas, Son. How are you doing?” Mom spoke a little louder than usual, and Anthony figured she was making an effort to sound upbeat—maybe hoping to cheer him up—since he’d told her during their last conversation that he was down with the chicken pox and felt miserable.
“Hey, Mom, I hope you and Pop are with my sisters today and having a special Christmas.”
“We all gathered at our place for part of the day, but your sisters had both made some other plans too, so they left a while ago.” There was a pause. “You were missed.”
“Thanks. I miss not being with all of you too.”
“Now, back to my question that you’ve yet to answer. How are you doing? Are you feeling any better since the last time we talked?”
“Not really. I’m still spending most of my time in bed, and those pesky pox marks have continued to itch like crazy. Sure wish I’d had the chicken pox when I was a kid. Probably could have dealt better with it back then.”
“No doubt it would have been better, but life doesn’t always give us what we want or think we need. I guess the good days help to prepare us for the not-so-good times and teach us to appreciate those times when things are going well for us.”
“Yeah, right.” Feeling an itch coming on behind his right ear, Anthony switched the phone to his left ear, hoping the change might make the agonizing itch stop or at least help him to focus on something else.
“Were you able to eat a nice Christmas dinner with your friend’s family today?” Mom asked.
“No, I’ve spent the day in bed.” Anthony released a noisy yawn. “There’s not much for me to do but sleep and try not to scratch.”
“Rest is good,” she said. “And you definitely shouldn’t scratch the blisters. You could end up with an infection, which would leave a nasty scar.”
“I know, Mom, and I’m doing my best not to let that happen.” Another yawn came, and he tried to suppress it by covering his mouth.
“You sound tired, Anthony. I should let you go so you can sleep if you wish.”
“Yeah, okay. Tell Pop I said hello, and my sisters too, next time you see them. I’ll talk to you again when I’m feeling better.
Bye, Mom.” Anthony clicked off the phone, and he’d just placed it back on the end table when a knock sounded on the bedroom door.
He hoped whoever it was didn’t want to talk, because he was not in the mood for conversing with anyone.
Just the few short minutes with his mother had about done Anthony in.
He hitched a breath and called, “Come in.”
“I’m glad to see that you’re awake,” Rosa stated upon entering the room with a tray, which she placed across his lap.
“Since you didn’t feel up to coming down to eat with the family, I brought you a little of everything that was on the table for our Christmas meal, including a slice of pumpkin pie. ”
He offered her what appeared to be a forced smile. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’m really not hungerich. ”
Rosa blinked a couple of times and tilted her head. “Oh, so now you’re talking the Dutch, is that how it is?”
“I’ve just picked up a few words here and there, like the one for hungry , but I definitely can’t speak full sentences or understand most of what I hear you or your family saying to each other.”
“I’ll give you credit for trying.” Rosa gestured to the food on his tray. “Now, how about eating a little bit, even if you aren’t hungry? If you don’t eat, you’ll never regain your strength.”
“Okay, I’ll try.” Anthony picked up the fork and stabbed a small piece of turkey. He put it in his mouth, chewed, and then swallowed. “Not bad. Who did the cooking today?”
“Mom baked the turkey. Tena and I each made a few pies, and the three of us worked together on the rest of the meal.”
“What about your sister Susan? Didn’t she help with any part of the meal?”
“Not with the cooking, but she did set the dining room table and help us serve the meal.” Rosa heaved a heavy sigh. “In case you haven’t picked up on it, I am not one of Susan’s favorite people.”
Anthony ate some of the mashed potatoes before responding. “Yeah, I’ve gotten that impression, based on some of the comments she’s made, not to mention the way she often glares at you. What’s up with that, anyway? Isn’t she glad that you’re home safe and sound?”
Rosa walked over to the window and lifted the shade the rest of the way, bringing more light into the room.
When she moved back to stand by the bed, she was frowning.
“Susan and I have never gotten along very well. Even when we were children she seemed to be jealous of me and often accused our mother of caring more for me than she did her.”
“Do you think that was true?”
Rosa shook her head. “I doubt it. Mom’s always been pretty fair with the way she’s treated all of us.
But I suppose there were times when she spent more time with me—especially in the kitchen, since we both like to cook.
Even so, that didn’t justify Susan believing I was the favored one.
She had the same opportunity to spend time in the kitchen with our mother if she’d chosen to. ”
Anthony grunted. “Sibling rivalry—it’s not a good thing.”
Rosa folded her arms and moved closer to the bed. “It sounds like you may have had a little experience with that.”
“Yeah, what kid hasn’t? I thought my two sisters were Pop’s favorites, and they believed that Mom cared more about me.” His thick brows rose. “Go figure.”
“Would you like me to stay while you finish your meal?” Rosa asked, switching to another topic. “If you’d rather eat in peace and not have to engage in conversation, I can go back downstairs and help with the dishes.”
Anthony rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’re real excited about doing that chore.”
“Not really,” she admitted. “But I don’t want to make a pest of myself hanging out here if you’d rather be alone.”
He shook his head. “No, please stay and keep me company. It gets pretty boring lying in this bed most of the day with nothing to do but think about my predicament and try not to scratch.”
“I hear what you’re saying. When I had chicken pox during my childhood, I scratched even when my mother warned me not to.”
“And now she’s warning me.” Anthony ate a few peas and then set his fork down.
“When I spoke to my mother on the phone before you came in, she also cautioned me about not scratching the blisters. I’m sure she’s worried about me and wishes I could have been there with the rest of the family to celebrate Christmas. ”
Rosa took a seat on the end of the bed, being careful not to jostle the tray. “You should feel better in another week or so, and then as soon as you get your car back and running in good shape, you’ll be on your way home.”
“Yeah, I guess. Sure never expected that I’d be here this long.”
Rosa bit the inside of her cheek and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Anthony. You’re probably wishing that you’d never agreed to come here with me and pretend that we are married.”
“It was my idea, you know.”
“I realize that, but it doesn’t make me feel any less guilty for keeping you here so long.”
“You’re not to blame, Rosa. It’s just some unfortunate circumstances that have messed up our plans.”
“Speaking of which …” Rosa paused, searching for the right words. “Once you’re over the chicken pox and your car’s been fixed, we’re gonna have to come up with the best way to tell my folks that we’re splitting up and you’re leaving me to get a divorce.”
Anthony sat quietly for several seconds before he spoke again. “No matter how we make it happen, it won’t be easy. I’m sure your parents, and maybe your siblings, will be quite upset.”
Rosa nodded. “But they’d be even more upset if they knew that we aren’t even married and devised this plan so that I could come back here and have a place to live and raise my baby.”