Blue Skies by Catherine Anderson

Author:Catherine Anderson [Anderson, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2011-11-11T12:21:37+00:00

Carly yearned for sleep, but the bouts of nausea came so frequently that dozing was impossible. She tried lying on her back. No help. Her stomach churned no matter what she did. Oh, God. She was so sick she thought she might die. When another wave of nausea struck, she almost wished she would.

Afterward, she lay with her head resting on the edge of the wastebasket, her eyes unfocused on the white plastic liner forming a cocoon around her face. She wondered what Hank had gone to get. She hoped it helped, whatever it was, and would be safe for the baby. She had no idea what time it was, only that it had grown late. She couldn’t believe he’d dressed and left the house just to get something for her stomach. It was sweet of him. Maybe, she decided dimly, he wasn’t as self-centered as she believed.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, she heard the rumble of his truck. Moments later, headlights bathed the room. She heard the engine die. Then a door slammed, and boots thumped across the porch. He had a distinct walk, a decisive but relaxed stride, one heel shuffling with every other step. An expert at identifying people by their walks, she filed that information away. If her eyesight failed completely, she might need to know the sound of his walk someday.

He entered the house with exaggerated care, barely making any sound. Carly realized he hoped she was sleeping. Oh, how she wished she were. Eyes closed, she listened as he approached the bed.

“I’m awake,” she told him, her voice so hoarse it didn’t sound like her own.

“How’s the tummy?” Gentle concern thickened his voice.

“Same.”

“I was afraid of that. I’ll be right back. Okay?”

He left the room, making no attempt to be quiet now. She heard the rustle of paper sacks, then the sound of his footsteps going to the kitchen. When he returned to the bedroom a minute later, he said, “Here it is, the Coulter cure for morning sickness, saltine crackers and Seven-Up.”

She clung to the wastebasket. “I can’t. It’ll make me sick.”

The glass clicked as he set it on the table. A gentle glow of amber bathed the room when he flipped on the bedside lamp. The mattress sank as he sat beside her. The soft light bathed his chiseled features so she could see him clearly.

“There’s nothing in your stomach. That’s why you’ve got the dry heaves.” Paper crinkled as he opened a sleeve of crackers. “Tiny nibbles and sips.” He tugged the wastebasket from her limp embrace and set it on the floor. “Let’s try the pop first. Your mouth is probably too dry to swallow.”

“I can’t,” Carly insisted.

He slipped an arm under her shoulders to cup the back of her head in a big hand. Bringing the glass to her lips, he said, “Just a little, sweetheart.”

Carly was too weak to argue with him. She took a tiny sip. To her surprise, it tasted good. He tipped the glass higher to give her a bit more.

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