"Miss Jane." Someone patted her cheek. "Come on, Janie. Jane."

Jane moaned and lifted her hand to push away at her assailant. 

"Thank God."

Jane fluttered open her eyes in disorientation. She lay flat on the sofa, her feet suspended in the air. Danny held her ankles. Beside her sat Prett, one hand resting on her cheek. Jane's sweatshirt rode up her waist, exposing her belly.

She gulped bloody saliva before exclaiming, "What are you doing?"

Prett removed his hand. "Bringing you back to life, apparently." Danny released her feet, and they dropped onto the cushion. She tried to pull herself upright while tugging down her sweatshirt, but Prett put a firm hand on her shoulder. "No. I don't want you passing out again. We don't need that kind of shock."

"I passed out?" Jane reassessed her strange position on the sofa and the wide-eyed expressions on Val and Danny's faces. Even Prett looked ruffled. "Oh." She stopped struggling. "I guess I did. Sorry." Sweat dripped down her neck and torso. Embarrassment heated her face even more.

"You went white as a sheet," Prett said. "Like every drop of blood drained out of your head. Heard about it. Never seen it happen before. Hope to never see it again."

Prett's brothers shook their heads, looking a little pale themselves.

"Sorry."

"Val says you have the flu?" Prett picked up a washcloth from the floor. He motioned it toward his lips before handing it to Jane.

"Yeah." She wiped her chin, soaking up fresh blood. The achiness in her mouth had now spread to her entire head.

"Explains why you're burning up." He wiped his fingers on the second washcloth. His fingers were bloody, and when Jane glimpsed the contents of the plastic bowl Val held in his lap, she realized Prett must have fished the ice out of her mouth when she fainted.

"And why my skin hurts."

"Your skin hurts?"

"My clothes feel like sandpaper. That always happens when I get the flu."

"Okay. Well." He thought a moment. "I guess we better get you into bed, then."

"That's where I was going before this happened." Jane tapped the washcloth on her lip. She looked at Val. "Maybe you can help me back to the hotel." 

"No, you'll stay here," Prett said.

"But I need to go to bed."

"You will. It'll just be easier to take care of you here."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me."

"Of course you do, you're sick."

"I've been sick before. I always take care of myself."

"Not when you've had the flu."

"Yes, when I've had the flu."

Prett scowled. "Well," he intoned, "now that's just plain sad."

Tears sprang to Jane's eyes, and she had to look away from Prett's empathetic gaze.

"We take care of family around here, don't we, Vel?" Prett glanced at his brother, who nodded.

"But you'll all get sick, too," Jane said.

"We'll risk it. Rest here while we get things ready."

But when the men retreated towards the kitchen, Jane dragged herself off the sofa. I deserve to die alone. Like I should have before.

Prett stopped her before she got halfway to the door. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Back to my room."

"Didn't you hear anything I said? You need to stay here."

"I need to be by myself, really."

"Don't argue with me. I can't enjoy it when you're sick." He pointed to the sofa. "Back."

She wasn't getting past him, so with reluctance she complied, using the washcloth to wipe the blood off the leather before sitting. Prett returned to the kitchen where the men conferred about their medicinal supplies. Jane took off her shoes and curled up with a throw pillow under her head and the washcloth pressed against her lip. She heard Prett's voice a few more times, doors opening and closing, and then silence.

***

"You conscious?"

Jane opened her eyes to see Prett squatting beside her. 

"I got my bed ready," he said. "If you can walk there, that would be preferable, since Val isn't back yet and if I carry you I'm likely to drop you on your head."

Jane processed this a moment. She pulled the washcloth off her mouth. The bleeding had stopped. "I can sleep here," she whispered.

"You'll prefer the bed. More room. Privacy."

"Where will you sleep?"

He nodded at the sofa. "Here."

"I really think I—"

"Are you arguing with me? Still?"

Jane didn't resist further. She allowed Prett to lead her to his bedroom. The covers on his bed were folded back in a perfect triangle, and she collapsed into it. Prett draped a new washcloth on her forehead. She gasped at the sudden coldness. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he used another cloth to wipe the dried blood and paint off her face and hands. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth at his gentle rubbing on her sensitive skin. The earlier touch of his hand remained on her cheek as though the fever had burned it into her skin's memory. He now placed her cleaned hands on her stomach.

"You awake?"

She opened her eyes. "Yeah. I'm sorry if I scared you earlier."

He shrugged. "My heart needs a good jump-start now and again." He folded the washcloth. "The Vals have gone to get stuff for your fever. Is there anything you want in the meantime?"

She shook her head before once again noting her damp clothes. "I'd like my pajamas."

"Pajamas? Already? It's not even three o'clock. You're not just getting old, Miss Jane, you're getting decrepit."

Jane managed a smile while he stood.

"All right," he said. "I'll find your pajamas."

***

A hand touched her shoulder. "Miss Jane? I'm sorry to wake you. Can you sit up? I've got something for your fever."

After confirming a temperature of 102 degrees with a digital ear thermometer, Prett held out two white tablets. "Can you swallow these?"

Jane propped on her elbow, swallowing the tablets with water Prett offered. The task done, she fell back onto the pillow.

"I got your pajamas." Prett pointed at the folded clothes at the foot of the bed. He left the room, pulling the door almost shut. Jane dragged herself to the bathroom and changed. The soft flannel pants tormented her skin as much as her jeans had. She crawled back into bed, using the washcloth to cool her fevered head, while pulling the blankets up to stem the shiver-inducing chills.

***

Singing woke her.

The bedroom was now dark and Jane ached with heat. She pushed off the blankets. Sweat soaked her pajamas.

The brothers loved music. They often had the stereo on, or their iPads, or their radios. Val preferred country, Danny classic rock, and Prett—well, Jane hadn't figured out Prett's preference. He often played folk music though she hadn't determined if it was because he liked it or because it annoyed his brothers.

The soft tune drifting into the bedroom sounded like one of Prett's picks. A slow, haunting melody with harmonized vocals accompanied by guitar. Jane floated on the sea of sound, riding the waves of tenor and bass. Her body grew as large as the room. It shrank smaller than a seed. She expanded and contracted, each beat a moment of Time wafting through her body, flying closer, flitting away, then returning with a vengeance.

She played in her backyard, skipped to school holding her mom's hand, giggled over blueberry pancakes with her dad, and sulked in the back seat of the sedan. Then Time's refrain drove her parents' car away, and she ran and ran, reaching out to grasp the notes to stop Time, reverse Time, force Time to bring the car back. But instead, Time caught her, sweeping her up in a high-pitched scream, rushing her past the dark tree-lined road, the cramped dim rooms, the long bright hallways, and carrying her away, far away, cold and alone and afraid.

***

A hand brushed hair from her ear. A beep. "Hundred four. Shit." The hand lay against her cheek, cool and comforting. "Miss Jane? Can you wake up?" When she didn't respond, the hand lightly slapped her. "Miss Jane?"

"Don't," she murmured.

"I need you to sit up."

"Not going with you. Don't want to know." She swatted at the hand and it left her face. An arm slipped under her shoulders, heaving her into a sitting position. A weight pressed down the mattress behind her. She slumped backwards against a chest. An arm wrapped around her and she grasped it with both hands.

"Take a drink," the voice rumbled behind her.

A glass pressed to her lips and her parched mouth relented, taking in two big gulps. The cold liquid traveled down her esophagus to her stomach. She shivered and turned her head in revolt against the sweet grape flavor.

"Good. Now can you take this?" Fingers pressed something small and hard against her lips. She shook her head, her body quivering with her efforts to resist. A few more fruitless attempts, and the voice said, "Try the liquid stuff."

"No!" She pried at the arm holding her to no avail. It wouldn't release her. A small plastic cup pressed against her lips, and hoping for water, Jane opened her mouth, only to have a thick, cherry-flavored stickiness poured in. She gagged, and the hand clamped over her mouth.

"Swallow."

She shook her head, grabbing the wrist and pulling, her breaths rapid with exertion. The hand wouldn't budge.

"Doggone it, girl, we're not trying to kill you. We gotta get your fever down. It's either this or the ER."

Not the ER. Not again. Her eyes flew open. Danny stood at the foot of the bed. Val towered above her, holding a small plastic cup in his fingers. She blinked several times before ending her struggle and swallowing. The hand released from her mouth. Jane stared up at Val. "Would you carry me back to my room?" she whispered.

Behind her, Prett chuckled. "You sure know how to make an impression, baby brother." The arm gave a slight squeeze. "You're not going anywhere, Miss Jane. We've already established that. Now finish the rest of it." He took the cup from Val and made her swallow the remaining medication. He followed that with the grape-flavored water again.

"I don't like that."

"Plain water then," Prett said.

Val switched out the glasses and Jane drank. She now connected the disembodied arm to Prett. His was the chest she sagged against. He eased himself from the bed, laying her back onto the pillow. He placed a damp cloth on her forehead then unbuttoned her shirt cuffs, pushing her sleeves as high as they would go.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Cooling you down." Prett wiped a wet cloth over her arms.

She whimpered. "It hurts."

He stopped his assault on her skin and instead draped the cloth over her arm.

Jane's eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted back into memories of nightmares past. She tossed and turned, shivering and sweltering simultaneously. Washcloths, warmed by her body heat, would vanish before returning chilly and jarring against her exposed skin. She felt damp and hot, and when the cloths were refreshed, damp and cold. After an interminable restlessness in which she battled against the forces tormenting her, she lost strength and fell into a deep sleep.

***

Her head felt light as if freed from the compression of a vise. But a deep achiness had settled in her arms and thighs.

Jane opened her eyes. In the dim sliver of light emanating from beyond the bedroom doorway, she saw Prett slouched in a wingback chair next to the bed, his head leaned back, his eyes closed. Jane watched him a moment before becoming aware something warm trapped her fingers. She tugged her hand away from his.

Prett lifted his head, giving her a long assessment. "You're looking a little more coherent."

"Can I have some water?" she whispered.

He stretched and yawned before handing her a glass from the nightstand.

"This tastes icky," she said.

"Electrolytes." Prett handed her a different glass. "This one is plain water."

"That's better. Thanks. What time is it?"

"Little after three a.m. now." He took her temperature. "Just over ninety-nine. That's positive news. How you feel?"

"Miserable. But slightly less miserable than I did."

"We'll count that as another positive, then."

"I'm going to be sick for a few days."

"That's a given."

"I won't be able to do any work."

"Too bad I don't pay you to sleep. You'd be earning overtime by now."

"I finished the bedroom."

Prett shook his head. "And almost worked yourself into the grave. Should've gone to bed when I told you to."

"I can go back to my own room once I'm a little better."

"Now you're hallucinating again."

"I was hallucinating?"

"Unless pink elephants really are dancing on my ceiling." He surveyed above and behind him before turning back to her.

"I thought there were pink elephants?"

"No, not that."

"What then?" Jane asked, rubbing her aching arms.

"Well, for one thing, you were, ah, crying out for your mama and daddy."

"Oh."

"You can call them if you like."

"It's too late."

"Once the sun is up."

"No," Jane said quietly. "It's too late." She let out a long sigh. "They died when I was seventeen." She looked at Prett with sadness and empathy. "So I know how that feels."

"I see. Any other family you want to call?"

"I don't have any. Just my great-aunt, and she died six months ago. She didn't know me for the past five years anyway. Alzheimer's."

"I see," he repeated.

"I think I have some cousins I've never met, but...I don't even know their names."

Prett gave a nod and stared at the nightstand. "I'd be lost without my brothers."

"You're lucky. And you have the Gingerys, too."

"Don't think they'd count that as luck."

"I think Holly does. Genevieve. Cadence."

"She's a Pruett."

"Close enough."

Prett scratched his cheek with the hand that had held hers. "Well," he said, "I am a lucky S.O.B., that's for sure."

"I have to get up now."

"You have to get up now?"

"Bathroom."

"Oh! Right." He rose and moved the chair away from the bed.

Jane stood with unsteady legs. She pulled at her wet pajamas. "I'm soaked."

"Yeah. Here." Prett pulled out a t-shirt and lounge shorts from his chest of drawers.

When she emerged from the bathroom minutes later, Prett glanced up from making the bed.

"I put on dry sheets," he said.

He didn't comment on her appearance. She knew she looked a dreadful combination of pale and flushed, with tangled hair plastered around her face. His t-shirt skimmed her thighs and his shorts threatened to slip off her hips. Too exhausted to traverse the perimeter of the bed, she crawled across the mattress to the side she'd been sleeping on. Prett helped her under the covers, tucking her in.

"Did I hear someone whistle a little bit ago?" she asked as he pulled the chair back to the bed and sat.

"What? Yeah. Val."

"What did he want?" she asked.

"Don't know. He was calling for Vel."

"At three in the morning? Is that usual?"

"No. Usually I'm the one who can't sleep. And usually I wake up Vel, too, poor soul."

"Why?"

"Don't mean to." He sighed. "I tend to hover. He doesn't take that too well. Val, on the other hand, could sleep through a brass band." He shrugged. "Or maybe he's just used to me."

"What do you mean?"

"I check on them at night."

"When they're asleep? Why?"

He avoided her gaze. "I can't sleep. I worry. Sometimes I can't hear them breathing. And Vel snores like a buzz saw, so...if I can't hear him..."

"You check to see if he's still breathing?"

"Yeah...I'm a little...cracked that way. High anxiety."

Prett didn't strike her as someone with anxiety, high or low. But I understand. "You're afraid to lose them. To be alone. Like me."

"Yeah." He let out a weary breath. "Yeah."

Jane was quiet a moment. "Thanks for taking care of me. I think I was fighting you."

Prett gave his half smile. "You're a bit of a scrapper in your delirium, that's for sure. Hate to tangle with you fully conscious."

"Did I say anything else? In my delirium?"

Prett shook his head. "Just crying out for your parents to come back."

"Yeah," Jane whispered. "Yeah. I wish I could do it all over again."

Prett nodded, staring at the nightstand. "Me too."

The door flung open and Danny stepped inside, rubbing his eyes with one hand and sleepily signing with the other. Jane could see him in all his glory, for he wore nothing but a pair of shorts like the pair she had on. His shoulders and upper arms were smooth, muscular, and covered with tattoos. His chest held fuzzy dark hair which leaked down his stomach, ending abruptly above his navel due to the same discolored, tightened skin his forearms held. His thighs and calves were a patchwork of discoloration, raised skin and deep gouges.

"Great," Prett muttered.

"What?" Jane gasped, trying and not succeeding in tearing her eyes away from Danny's body. Her limbs throbbed in painful sympathy to his scarred flesh.

"Now Val's down for the count."

Danny continued signing. Jane forced herself to turn her attention to the latter's hands, picking out crazy and Jane me watch.

"I know what he's like," Prett said morosely to the former statement and "Maybe later," to the second. "Give him a low dose and keep an eye on his temperature." He handed the thermometer and liquid medication to Danny. "If it creeps up, we'll have to give him more."

Danny scowled, signing, I can't...crazy.

"Yeah, I know. If it comes to that, I'll help you out."

This offer didn't improve Danny's mood.

"And for future reference, little brother, you might want to keep in mind our guest and her female sensibilities before parading around in your skivvies. Don't want her fainting again."

With a startled expression, Danny looked at Jane huddled under the blankets, as if just realizing she was awake. Then he grinned and struck a quick pose to show off his pectoral muscles. Jane giggled.

Prett rolled his eyes and muttered, "Or getting the trembling fits."

Danny winked at Jane and signed slowly for her benefit, Don't watch me leave. She didn't understand why until he turned and walked out. As bad as the scars were on his front, they were far worse on his back, extending from his shoulder blades to his ankles. Even his butt must be burned. This thought ended her giggling.

As she stared at the now empty doorway, Prett offered, "He's not the Greek god he once was. Now he's just a walking freaking miracle."

"Yeah." She let out a deep breath.

"You're tired. I'll let you sleep." He flicked off the lamp.

"I'm sorry Val's sick."

"Not your fault. He had a flu shot, so hopefully that will lessen the symptoms." He sighed. "Looks like none of us will get any work done this week."

"But you should get some sleep, at least. You don't have to stay with me now. I'll be okay."

"You sure?"

"If I need you, I can just whistle." She smiled. "Or stop breathing."

"Now you're mocking me. Must be feeling better."

"A little. More coherent, like you said. The past few hours have been...surreal."

"I can only imagine."

"It's getting sorted out in my head now. What was real and what wasn't. The only thing I'm not really sure about is the music."

"Music?"

"I thought I heard singing for a while."

"Ah. Yeah. The Vals insisted on playing some tunes. Sorry."

"It's okay. I liked it. Sounded sad, though."

"They were in a melancholy mood." Prett moved the chair back to its corner, pulled clothes out of his drawer and left, leaving the door cracked open.

Despite her aching muscles, Jane fell asleep. Morning came and went with her periodically waking to drink, visit the bathroom, and allow Prett to check her temperature. She refused any food till mid-afternoon, when she ate two saltine crackers and a spoonful of strawberry gelatin. She tried to watch television, but kept dozing off so gave it up as futile. In the evening, Danny pulled up the chair to keep her company, but Prett shooed him out, making him tend to their youngest brother instead.

"How is Val?" Jane asked as Prett plopped into the chair Danny had vacated.

"Touch and go."

"He's that sick?"

Prett twitched his head. "Nah. It's just anytime he gets a fever he hallucinates. Like you did last night. It's happened ever since he was a kid. Doesn't have to be a high fever, either. The problem is, a lot of drugs do the same thing to him. Pain relievers, cough medicine. Sends him into violent delusions, some of them. Low doses of acetaminophen is the only thing he tolerates, and even that's scary for us to give him, not knowing if this is the one time he'll have a bad reaction. We hate when he's sick."

"I get that. I'm sensitive to medication, too. I always figured it was because I'm small. I always take the children's version of everything. The adult doses are too much for me."

"We overdosed you, then. We gave you the highest recommended amounts last night."

"I probably needed it, though, with a hundred-four temperature. It didn't get nearly that high last time I had the flu. I managed just fine by myself."

"Still, no one should be sick alone."

"Brandon had to stay away so he wouldn't get infected. Even if he didn't get sick himself, he could've spread it to his patients. But he called and checked on me a couple times a day."

"How chivalrous of him."

"Well, it seemed nice at the time." Jane shifted with discomfort. "Maybe I need some of that medicine now, to get rid of this achiness." Prett nodded, and after measuring out a small dose, refreshing her washcloths, refilling her water, and tucking her in, he left her to rest.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please help me improve my writing by pointing out problems. And if you like what you read, please click the Vote button below. And comment! I love comments!😊

Fun Fact: I listen to music while I write. Spotify is great for that, because it allows me to pick the songs I want to play (and in what order.) I choose music that evokes the mood that befits the scene, whether romantic, happy or melancholy. Two songs were my inspiration for what Jane hears the brothers playing. Those are Life in a Northern Town by The Dream Academy (posted at the top of this chapter) and Hazard by Richard Marx:

https://youtu.be/gdmHHoI9beM

Jane was too out of it to realize the brothers weren't simply playing a CD. 😁 The version of "Hazard" she heard was much more like this stripped down one...

https://youtu.be/vWydwfNgf8E

And the version of "Life in a Northern Town" had a little more country flair added:

https://youtu.be/XTxRQh3imLg

Of course, as I was composing this fun fact, I happened to hear another song that would fit the brother's melancholy mood. 😂😂😂 Here's the iconic Dust in the Wind by Kansas:

https://youtu.be/tH2w6Oxx0kQ

Be sure to vote and comment! ⤵