Without another thought, I picked up my phone and sent Amelia a text.
Me: Hey. The kids and I aren’t feeling well, so I’m gonna take tomorrow off.
Amelia: Oh no! What can I do? Can I bring you guys anything?
Me: We’re good. You should stay clear so you don’t get it. Sharing is caring unless it’s the flu.
Amelia: Please feel better and let me know if there’s anything I can do. I love you, Jackalicious.
I stared at those words and shook my head. There was a solution to this problem, and I would find it. I’d give myself the time and it would come to me.
It had to.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Amelia
I spent my unexpected Monday at home working on stuff for the store while obsessively checking my phone to see if I’d missed a text from Jack. He’d been radio silent all morning and that was fine.
Or it was supposed to be fine.
Funny how many times I had to remind myself that if he was sick enough to call off work, he was probably in bed, sleeping and healing. I finally sent him a ‘thinking of you’ text after lunch. He replied almost instantly with a row of smiley faces and that was that.
Something just didn’t feel right.
Definitely strange.
“Or,” I said to myself, “he’s definitely sick.”
Later that evening, as I ate dinner in front of my laptop, a text scared me to death after an entire day of silence. I jumped, popping myself in the nose with a forkful of leftovers.
“Smooth, Amelia. Real smooth.” I wiped my nose and checked my phone, excitement shivering through me when I saw Jack’s name on the screen.
Jack: We’re still not feeling great here. Gonna call off again tomorrow. Love you!
The feeling of ‘something’s not right’ intensified. I shook my head as if I could knock the worry into submission by flinging it around my skull.
The man was sick. That was the something not right.
Me: You sure you don’t want me there? I can take care of whoever else is sick so you can just climb into bed and rest. And if you’re feeling better, my bedside manner is on point.
Jack: You’re so good. I don’t deserve you.
Something’s not right.
I pushed the thought away and drafted a reply.
Me: So that’s a yes? I’ll be there with chicken soup and antiviral essential oils before you can say woo-woo!
Jack: No, no. Whatever this is, you don’t want it. Stay home. I’ll see you soon, okay?
Disappointment swirled in my stomach. I wanted him to want me, which was stupid. When I was sick, I just wanted to curl up and hide from the world until I felt better, as did everyone I’d ever met. Why should I expect anything different from Jack?
“This is just the universe handing me time to focus on my store.” I forced a dose of gratitude to my spirit guides over the perfect timing.
Still, the insidious voice whispered, something’s not right.
Tuesday passed just like Monday. Lots of planning, alone time, and ignoring the urge to check my phone. When Jack finally texted, claiming the Coopers were still sick and he was staying home again on Wednesday—Surprise! Another day to myself!—that ended my ability to focus on anything else. Either he was sicker than he’d let on, or something was up.
That one, whispered my intuition. Something isn’t right.
Anxiety swirled around me like a swarm of gnats until I broke out my sage and cleansed the house, taking a few extra minutes to whip the smoke around my entire body. After all, I was the source of the negativity.
That helped. (Fractionally.)
I turned on my favorite music and danced until I was sweaty and breathless.
That also helped. (A little.)
I sat down to meditate and couldn’t clear my mind. All I could think about was heading over to Jack’s house with a bag of stuff to help the family feel better. The more I pushed the thought away, the louder it got. Over and over, I refocused on my breathing, only to discover my thoughts had wandered.
The energy in my mind would calm and there I’d be, bathing in sweet nothingness, until I realized I was mentally packing chicken soup and selecting which oils I’d bring to the Coopers…
I’d sigh deeply, focusing on the hum of the refrigerator, and discover I was rehearsing what I’d say when Jack opened the door…
My eyes sprang open.
“Of course!” I slapped a hand to my forehead.
I couldn’t get rid of those thoughts because they weren’t mine! They were a message from my higher self. A nudge. That whisper of guidance I’d been asking for—and ignoring—over the last few days. With a sigh of relief, I stood, then assembled my Cure the Coopers toolkit. I grabbed a bag and threw in my favorite antibacterial essential oils, a diffuser or two, and bath bombs with Epsom salts and eucalyptus to clear the airways.
Assuming airways needed cleared.
I didn’t exactly know what was wrong with everyone.
Just in case, I stopped at the drugstore and grabbed some cold medicine, then at Rosie’s Diner for tubs of chicken soup. Finally feeling like everything was going to be okay, I pulled into Jack’s driveway, climbed out of the car, and cocked my head.
Did I hear the kids laughing in the backyard? And…was that the grill I smelled? I sniffed. Definitely smelling the grill.
That didn’t seem like a family so sick, Jack needed three days off work. Maybe he was the only one still suffering? Maybe Austin was hanging out with the kids? Or Jude? Or Alex?
Jack’s low chuckle sounded from the backyard, squashing my hopes. “I’ll throw the ball. You kick it as hard as you can. Bet I can still catch it.”
My stomach dropped. What the flippin’ flap was happening?
The unmistakable dong of a foot hitting a kickball rang through the yard. The thing soared over the roof, bounced once, then rolled to a stop at my feet. The shouts and laughter of the Coopers followed. Part of me wanted to head into the back and figure out what was up. The other part wanted to get in my car, drive home, and forget this ever happened. I took one step toward the driveway, then another toward the family, then stopped, trapped by indecision. Finally, the realization that there had to be a good explanation put my feet in motion.
Jack wasn’t duplicitous.
He loved me and I loved him and that was a truth I couldn’t ignore.
I headed for the back just as Jack jogged around the corner in search of the ball, stuttering to a stop when he saw me.
I shifted the bag of supplies in my arms. “I brought you guys some things to help with your healing process.”
I tried to smile, but it failed. One look at Jack said the healing process was complete. Fully clothed. Coloring strong. In the backyard playing with his kids, who sounded just as healthy as he looked. There had to be a good explanation. He’d just told me he loved me. It didn’t make sense for him to pull a crazy stunt a few days later.
“Amelia…”
“What’s going on, Jack?”
He chewed on his bottom lip and ran a hand over his face. His mouth opened, then closed again. His gaze wandered over me, drinking me in and pushing me away. I’d never seen anyone look so sad and my heart broke for whatever he was going through.
He folded his arms over his chest. “We need to talk.”