"Sure, no problem," Charlie assured me.
I spent the rest of the day on the bathroom floor, sleeping for a few hours with my head on a crumpled up towel. Charlie claimed that he had to work, but I suspected that he just wanted access to a bathroom. He left a glass of water on the floor beside me to keep me hydrated.
It woke me up when he came back home. I could see that it was dark in my room - after nightfall. He clumped up the stairs to check on me.
"Stillalive?"
"Sort of," I said.
"Do you want anything?"
"No, thanks."
He hesitated, clearly out of his element. "Okay, then," he said, and then he went back down to the kitchen.
I heard the phone ring a few minutes later. Charlie spoke to someone in a low voice for a moment, and then hung up.
"Mike feels better," he called up to me.
Well, that was encouraging. He'd only gotten sick eight hours or so before me. Eight more hours. The thought made my stomach turn, and I pulled myself up to lean over the toilet.
I fell asleep on the towel again, but when I woke up I was in my bed and it was light outside my window. I didn't remember moving; Charlie must have carried me to my room - he'd also put the glass of water on my bedside table. I felt parched. I chugged it down, though it tasted funny from sitting stagnant all night.
I got up slowly, trying not to trigger the nausea again. I was weak, and my mouth tasted horrible, but my stomach felt fine. I looked at my clock.
My twenty-four hours were up.
I didn't push it, eating nothing but saltine crackers for breakfast. Charlie looked relieved to see me recovered.
As soon as I was sure that I wasn't going to have to spend the day on the bathroom floor again, I called Jacob.
Jacob was the one who answered, but when I heard his greeting I knew he wasn't over it.
"Hello?" His voice was broken, cracking.
"Oh, Jake," I groaned sympathetically. "You sound horrible."
"I feel horrible," he whispered.
"I'm so sorry I made you go out with me. This sucks."
"I'm glad I went." His voice was still a whisper. "Don't blame yourself. This isn't your fault."
"You'll get better soon," I promised. "I woke up this morning, and I was fine."
"You were sick?" he asked dully.
"Yes, I got it, too. But I'm fine now."
"That's good." His voice was dead.
"So you'll probably be better in a few hours," I encouraged.
I could barely hear his answer. "I don't think I have the same thing you did."
"Don't you have the stomach flu?" I asked, confused.
"No. This is something else."
"What's wrong with you?"
"Everything," he whispered. "Every part of me hurts."
The pain in his voice was nearly tangible.
"What can I do, Jake? What can I bring you?"
"Nothing. You can't come here." He was abrupt. It reminded me of Billy the other night.
"I've already been exposed to whatever you have," I pointed out.
He ignored me. "I'll call you when I can. I'll let you know when you can come down again."
"Jacob - "
"I've got to go," he said with sudden urgency.
"Call me when you feel better."
"Right," he agreed, and his voice had a strange, bitter edge.
He was silent for a moment. I was waiting for him to say goodbye, but he waited too.
"I'll see you soon," I finally said. "Wait for me to call," he said again. "Okay... Bye, Jacob."
"Bella," he whispered my name, and then hung up the phone.
Chapter 10 THE MEADOW
JACOB DIDN'T CALL.
The first time I called, Billy answered and told me that Jacob was still in bed. I got nosy, checking to make sure that Billy had taken him to a doctor. Billy said he had, but, for some reason I couldn't nail down, I didn't really believe him. I called again, several times a day, for the next two days, but no one was ever there.
Saturday, I decided to go see him, invitation be damned. But the little red house was empty. This frightened me - was Jacob so sick that he'd needed to go to the hospital? I stopped by the hospital on the way back home, but the nurse at the front desk told me neither Jacob or Billy had been in.
I made Charlie call Harry Clearwater as soon as he got home from work. I waited, anxious, while Charlie chatted with his old friend; the conversation seemed to go on forever without Jacob even being mentioned. It seemed that Harry had been in the hospital . . some kind of tests for his heart. Charlie's forehead got all pinched together, but Harry joked with him, blowing it off, until Charlie was laughing again. Only then did Charlie ask about Jacob, and now his side of the conversation didn't give me much
to work with, just a lot of hmms and yeahs. I drummed my fingers against the counter beside him until he put a hand over mine to stop me.
Finally, Charlie hung up the phone and turned to me.
"Harry says there's been some trouble with the phone lines, and that's why you haven't been able to get through. Billy took Jake to the doc down there, and it looks like he has mono. He's real tired, and Billy said no visitors," he reported.
"No visitors?" I demanded in disbelief.
Charlie raised one eyebrow. "Now don't you go making a pest of yourself, Bells. Billy knows what's best for Jake. He'll be up and around soon enough. Be patient."
I didn't push it. Charlie was too worried about Harry. That was clearly the more important issue - it wouldn't be right to bug him with my lesser concerns. Instead, I went straight upstairs and turned on my computer. I found a medical site online and typed "mononucleosis" into the search box.