[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
The earlier calm seas had given way to roiling turbulence. They'd sighted the approaching storm before
sundown, and Alec's stomach had grown queasier with each passing moment.
He leaned over the stern's rail and dry-heaved again until his chest ached and his knees threatened to
buckle. When he straightened, it was all he could do not to shake like a quivering infant.
That did it. Humbling himself and asking Shaelyn for more of those pellets couldn't possibly be worse
than what he was going through at the moment. And from the toss of the sea, he would get worse before
he got better.
He made his way belowdecks, clinging to the stair rail for dear life, then staggering the last few feet to
his cabin door. A cheery, yellow light seeped from the crack beneath the door, but he heard no sounds from
within. Had she fallen asleep with the lamp burning again? Did the woman never extinguish a light before
retiring?
He raised his fist to knock just as the lurching ship threw him against the door with a solid thud. As he
bounced off the thick wood and tried to regain his footing, he heard her cheerful, perky voice call, "Come
in."
For just the briefest of moments he considered going back up on deck and suffering the storm in his
usual manner, but a well-timed, sickening roll of his stomach convinced him otherwise. He lifted the latch
and shoved his way through the door.
She sat or rather sprawled in his leather chair, bathed in the golden light of the oil lamp, one
britches-clad leg draped most indelicately over the arm, a book propped against her knee. How the devil did
the woman read with the ship rolling over ever-growing waves? And did she have no sense of decency?
She looked up at him, an expectant smile on her face, then the smile disappeared.
"Oh. It's you."
She went back to reading her book.
He tried to roll with the ship when he walked into the cabin. The effort only rocked his stomach and
erased any lingering thoughts he had of not asking for her help. He propped a hip atop his desk and tried to
look casual.
"Do you have any more of those pellets?" he asked in his best conversational voice.
She raised her eyes to his, conveying her irritation at having her reading interrupted. After pointedly
glaring at him for several seconds, she reached behind her and plucked the black leather pouch attached to
a belt from the reading table. Seconds later, a small rectangular box flew through the air and bounced off
his chest.
Bending to retrieve it from the floor nearly proved to be his undoing. He swallowed hard.
The word DRAMAMINE was emblazoned in orange across the lightweight paper box, along with all
manner of words and instructions in print so small he could barely read them. He'd never seen the likes of
such print. Or such packaging. He opened the box and slid a silver card from it. The little yellow tablets lay
in perfect rows inside tiny, clear bubbles on the card. He shook it, but nothing happened. He emptied the
contents of the box, but more of the silver cards with the sealed-away pellets fell out.
"What the devil?" he grumbled to himself.
Shaelyn sighed and swung her leg from the chair arm to stand. She slapped her book on the desk and
snatched one of the cards from his hands.
"Here." She pressed two of the little bubbles with her thumbs. The pellets shot through the other side,
landing neatly in his palm. "Use water this time."
She stuffed the cards back into the box, picked up her book, then flopped back into the chair, both legs
draping the arm this time.
He swallowed the nasty-tasting specks with plenty of water, then picked up the box and examined it
again. He pulled out the cards and studied the paper-thin silver backing. He pressed on the glasslike
bubbles, amazed that the substance seemed flexible rather than breakable. A little yellow pellet clattered
onto the desk.
"If you lose those, bubba, you're out of luck. I guarantee the local apothecary doesn't carry them."
He chased the errant medication across his desk, then tried to put it back in its bubble.
200
Jenny Lykins
"Where did you obtain these, if not from an apothecary?"
She turned the page of her book, never looking up.
"At a Stop-N-Shop in 1999."
He should have known better than to ask. Watching her ignore him, he decided to humor her.
"And what, pray tell, is a stopenshop?"
She lowered her book and stared at him.
"It's a store," she said with exaggerated patience, "where you stop, and then you shop." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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The earlier calm seas had given way to roiling turbulence. They'd sighted the approaching storm before
sundown, and Alec's stomach had grown queasier with each passing moment.
He leaned over the stern's rail and dry-heaved again until his chest ached and his knees threatened to
buckle. When he straightened, it was all he could do not to shake like a quivering infant.
That did it. Humbling himself and asking Shaelyn for more of those pellets couldn't possibly be worse
than what he was going through at the moment. And from the toss of the sea, he would get worse before
he got better.
He made his way belowdecks, clinging to the stair rail for dear life, then staggering the last few feet to
his cabin door. A cheery, yellow light seeped from the crack beneath the door, but he heard no sounds from
within. Had she fallen asleep with the lamp burning again? Did the woman never extinguish a light before
retiring?
He raised his fist to knock just as the lurching ship threw him against the door with a solid thud. As he
bounced off the thick wood and tried to regain his footing, he heard her cheerful, perky voice call, "Come
in."
For just the briefest of moments he considered going back up on deck and suffering the storm in his
usual manner, but a well-timed, sickening roll of his stomach convinced him otherwise. He lifted the latch
and shoved his way through the door.
She sat or rather sprawled in his leather chair, bathed in the golden light of the oil lamp, one
britches-clad leg draped most indelicately over the arm, a book propped against her knee. How the devil did
the woman read with the ship rolling over ever-growing waves? And did she have no sense of decency?
She looked up at him, an expectant smile on her face, then the smile disappeared.
"Oh. It's you."
She went back to reading her book.
He tried to roll with the ship when he walked into the cabin. The effort only rocked his stomach and
erased any lingering thoughts he had of not asking for her help. He propped a hip atop his desk and tried to
look casual.
"Do you have any more of those pellets?" he asked in his best conversational voice.
She raised her eyes to his, conveying her irritation at having her reading interrupted. After pointedly
glaring at him for several seconds, she reached behind her and plucked the black leather pouch attached to
a belt from the reading table. Seconds later, a small rectangular box flew through the air and bounced off
his chest.
Bending to retrieve it from the floor nearly proved to be his undoing. He swallowed hard.
The word DRAMAMINE was emblazoned in orange across the lightweight paper box, along with all
manner of words and instructions in print so small he could barely read them. He'd never seen the likes of
such print. Or such packaging. He opened the box and slid a silver card from it. The little yellow tablets lay
in perfect rows inside tiny, clear bubbles on the card. He shook it, but nothing happened. He emptied the
contents of the box, but more of the silver cards with the sealed-away pellets fell out.
"What the devil?" he grumbled to himself.
Shaelyn sighed and swung her leg from the chair arm to stand. She slapped her book on the desk and
snatched one of the cards from his hands.
"Here." She pressed two of the little bubbles with her thumbs. The pellets shot through the other side,
landing neatly in his palm. "Use water this time."
She stuffed the cards back into the box, picked up her book, then flopped back into the chair, both legs
draping the arm this time.
He swallowed the nasty-tasting specks with plenty of water, then picked up the box and examined it
again. He pulled out the cards and studied the paper-thin silver backing. He pressed on the glasslike
bubbles, amazed that the substance seemed flexible rather than breakable. A little yellow pellet clattered
onto the desk.
"If you lose those, bubba, you're out of luck. I guarantee the local apothecary doesn't carry them."
He chased the errant medication across his desk, then tried to put it back in its bubble.
200
Jenny Lykins
"Where did you obtain these, if not from an apothecary?"
She turned the page of her book, never looking up.
"At a Stop-N-Shop in 1999."
He should have known better than to ask. Watching her ignore him, he decided to humor her.
"And what, pray tell, is a stopenshop?"
She lowered her book and stared at him.
"It's a store," she said with exaggerated patience, "where you stop, and then you shop." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]