Texas Proud and Circle of Gold (Long, Tall Texans #52) - Diana Palmer Page 0,38
he asked, and was really interested.
“They do.” She laughed. “It’s why I don’t have them much anymore,” she confessed. “Cheese is one of my biggest triggers. But I haven’t had a migraine since back in the winter,” she added.
“Maybe I should do that,” he said. “They get worse as I get older.”
“You’re not old, Mr. Fiore,” she teased.
He shrugged. “Thirty-seven,” he confessed. “Really too old for Bernie...”
“Nonsense. I was fifteen years younger than my late husband, and we had a wonderful life together.”
His eyebrows arched. “Did people talk about you?”
She nodded. She smiled. “We didn’t care. It was nobody’s business but ours.” She sighed. “I’m so glad you and Bernie are friends. She’s never had much in the way of companionship. She’s so alone.”
“Yeah, me, too,” he confided. “After my grandmother died, all I had left was Paulie. He’s a great guy.”
“So I hear.”
He got up. “Well, I’ll go off to bed and hope the cheese doesn’t do me in. But it was worth it,” he added with a chuckle as he put his empty plate in the trash can. “Best cheese I’ve had in a long time.”
“I’m glad you like it. And if you get the preventative, you can eat all you like of it,” she laughed.
“I guess so. Sleep well.”
“You, too.”
* * *
But he didn’t sleep well. He woke two hours later with a headache that almost brought him to tears. He walked into the bathroom, half-blind, and almost collided with Bernie, who was wetting a washcloth in the sink.
“My goodness, what’s wrong?” she asked, because he was deathly pale.
“Migraine,” he said roughly. “Any Excedrin in there?” he asked, indicating the medicine cabinet. “I can’t find mine. I think I put it in here...”
She opened the cabinet and looked. “Yes, there is.”
“Shake me out a tablet, will you, honey?”
“Oh, yes.” She did and handed it to him. “You need this more than I do,” she said, indicating the wet washcloth. “Come on. I’ll help you back to bed.”
“You should go,” he said, swallowing hard.
“Why?”
“I get sick...” Before he could say anything else, he managed to make it to the commode and lost his supper, the cheese, the crackers, the soft drink and just about everything else.
When the nausea passed, he found Bernie on her knees beside him with the wet cloth, wiping his face. She flushed the toilet.
“Better now?” she asked.
He swallowed and drew in a breath. “Yeah. I think so. Honey, you shouldn’t...” he began.
“You looked after me when I was having a flare,” she reminded him. “Tit for tat.”
He managed a smile. “Okay.”
“Come on. I’ll help you back to bed.”
He let her lead him back into his bedroom and help him under the covers. She put the washcloth over his eyes.
“I’ll go get you something to take the tablet with. Want water or a soft drink?”
“Ginger ale, if there’s any in the fridge,” he said weakly, loving the comfort of her touch, the compassion in her voice. All his life, women had wanted him for his wealth, his power. This woman only wanted him. It was a revelation.
“I’ll be right back.”
“You shouldn’t be walking,” he said.
“It’s just to the kitchen, and I took the big pill. It’s helping. I’ll be right back.”
* * *
Mrs. Brown was just getting ready for breakfast in the kitchen. She turned as Bernie came in.
“Do you want some coffee, sweetheart?” the landlady asked.
“I’d love some, but Mikey has a migraine. I found his migraine medicine, but he wants ginger ale to take it with.”
“There’s one bottle left that’s cold,” the older woman said. “I’ll get some more and put them in there. Is he all right?”
“He lost his supper,” Bernie said. “He’s really sick. I’m going to sit with him for a few minutes.”
“If you need me, just call. We can get one of the Coltrain doctors to come over here and give him a shot if he needs them to. Those headaches are horrible. I used to have them before I got on the preventative.”
“He should see a doctor,” she said as she got the ginger ale out of the fridge.
“You make him do that,” Mrs. Brown said.
Bernie flushed and laugh. “As if I could.”
“Bernie,” Mrs. Brown said gently, “can’t you see that the man is absolutely crazy about you?”
Chapter Seven
Bernie stared at Mrs. Brown as if she’d sprouted grass in her hair. “He what?”
“He absolutely adores you,” the older woman replied, smiling. “Everybody noticed, not just me.”
Bernie flushed. “Well,” she said, stumped for a response.