drank, Shamika massaged the back of Leah's neck, along the tops of her shoulders, and down her spine. Each touch was a glorious agony, and within minutes the tightness that would inevitably leave her feeling as if she had been pummeled by rocks had melted under her friend's adept touch.
"You're burning with fever," Shamika said. "You better get to bed."
"Roy's keeping an eye on the mare for the next few hours. You'll need to wake me by eight."
"Sure. Now get to bed. I'll make you some TheraFlu. That'll help the aches and pains long enough for you to get some sleep." Shamika tapped on her shoulder and said, "Go."
Leah finished off the chocolate and moved toward the door. Looking back, she watched Shamika turn up the burner under the kettle, then reach into the medicine cupboard for the box of flu medicine. "What would I ever do without you?" she asked, and Shamika shrugged.
"You got me," she replied.
"I mean it," Leah said. "If it wasn't for you I would probably be forced to beg help from my father—"
"Leah Starr don't beg help from nobody, hon. You'd find a way. You always do. You're the strongest woman I've ever known."
"Strong? I thought the word was stubborn."
"That too."
"I'm not feeling too strong or stubborn right now."
"'Cause you're sick and tired. After a good night's sleep you'll feel different."
"Everything will be the same when I wake up. I'm just on the verge of bankruptcy. I'm two months behind on my rent, not to mention your salary. The ranchers around here think a woman can't possibly have brains enough to be a vet. My truck is bogged up to its axles in mud, and … I'm whining. God, I hate whiners."
"Everyone's got the right to feel a little sorry for themselves now and then, especially at five-thirty in the morning. Go to bed, Dr. Starr."
"Right. Bed."
She moved down the short hallway to the closed bedroom door. Gently, she turned the knob and allowed the door to creak open just enough that she could see the sleeping form on the railed bed. Her gaze traveled the room, which was lit by a night-light: a plastic clown with a beam of light shining through its open smiling mouth. In the far corner sat the shadowed hulk of a child's wheelchair. From the ceiling hung a crystal wind chime that would reflect the morning sun into a hundred splashes of light on the wall by the boy's head.
Shamika moved up behind her. "You know you can't go in there. Too risky with that fever."
"I know. I just needed to see him."
"Val sang 'Old MacDonald' nearly all the way through yesterday."
"Not bad for a seven-year-old, huh?"
"Not bad for a seven-year-old with cerebral palsy and light mental retardation," Shamika said gently, and hugged her. Then she turned Leah down the hallway and nudged her toward the bedroom.
Shamika had laid clean pajamas out on the bed. The covers were turned back, revealing flowered flannel sheets. Shamika sat the medicine on the bedside table before drawing the curtains closed over the window.
"No," Leah said, dropping onto the bed. "Leave them open. I like to watch the sun come up."
"You want me to draw you a bath?"
"I'm too tired to bathe."
Shamika left the room, closing the door behind her.
It took all of Leah's effort to peel out of her damp jeans, socks, bra, and sweatshirt. Her toes were wrinkled as raisins from standing in water for the last few hours. She put on clean socks, dragged her pajamas on and propped herself up against the pillows, sipped the hot medicine beverage that tasted like apple cider, and waited for the first rays of sunlight to spill in streams through her window overlooking the mountains. The morning sun always turned the cracked, curling, ochre-colored linoleum on the floor into a golden carpet.
Her eyelids growing heavy, she sank back into the pillows and reached for the television remote, hit the power button, and watched the bright, friendly faces of the KRXR Channel 10 news team beam out at her. With neutral expressions and voices, they related the stories of area flooding, robberies, falling interest rates, and an Asian stock market that had crashed for the second time in as many months.
She drifted.
The horse came out of nowhere, ghostly against the rain-drenched darkness, its eyes wild with terror as it skidded into the pool of light in front of her truck. She wrenched the steering wheel hard to the right, sending the truck spinning round