Page 69 of Manny's Surprise Baby
“Maybe you should take a nap?”
That sounded amazing. I’d have loved to crawl into my bed and sleep. But I was in charge of watching over Emily and couldn’t shirk my duties. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
“I’m not an infant. You can rest and I won’t get into trouble.”
“I wouldn’t feel right.”
She sighed and took the calculator from my chilled fingers. “Get up.”
“What?” I frowned.
“You’re going to lie down. That’s what I do when I don’t feel well, and it helps.” She stood and tugged me until I rose too. Then she led me out of the living room and to my bedroom. “Get in bed.”
“Emily, I can’t just go to bed. I’m the manny. I’m working.”
“As far as I can tell, all you’re doing is sitting there looking green. I’m afraid you’re going to barf on me.”
I scowled. “No.” I hoped.
“Take your pants off and get under the covers.” She pointed to the bed.
“Emily—”
“Shhh. Don’t argue so much.” She left the room.
I stared after her, feeling exhausted and confused. But when I glanced at the bed, it seemed to beckon to me. I unzipped my pants, slipped them off, and slid under the cool sheets, sighing tiredly. I closed my lids, telling myself I’d just rest my eyes. I’d get up in just one minute.
The sound of ice cubes jingling against the side of a glass made me open my eyes. Emily came in the room holding a plate with a package of Saltines and a glass of clear, bubbling soda. “This is what my mommy always gave me when I had a stomachache. 7UP and crackers.”
“But…” I sat up and frowned as she perched on the edge of the bed, setting the plate on my lap. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”
“We take care of each other. That’s what family does.” She handed me the soda. “Drink.”
A lump formed in my throat as I gazed on her sweet little face. “Emily… this is so nice of you.”
She sighed. “It’s nothing.”
I crunched into one of the crackers, wiping crumbs from the front of my shirt. “It’s been a while since anyone did this kind of thing for me.”
“Did your grandma take care of you when you were sick?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes. She did.” I smiled. “My mom did too before—”
Her gaze darkened. “Yeah.”
I forced the dry cracker down, taking a sip of the bubbly beverage. The flavor combination brought back a lot of memories. “My mom used to tell me stories when I was sick.” I laughed, feeling oddly sentimental. “They were always crazy adventure stories.”
“Do you remember them?”
I squinted. “Not really. I just know they were wild. She had a good imagination.”
Emily bit her lip. “My mommy didn’t really tell me stories.”
“I’m sorry.” I sat up a little more against the pillows.
She brightened. “She’d sing though. She loved this one song about milkshakes and bringing boys to the yard.”
I widened my eyes as I recognized the song. “Oh, well, that’s an interesting choice to sing to an eight-year-old.”
