Danielle Steel: The Gift

“No … it went into the snow …and then I …” She seemed to be confused, and then looked up at Liz, surprised, as though she wasn't sure herself what she had just said, and it scared her.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Liz leaned over to gently touch her forehead, and it was blazing. She had seemed happy enough that afternoon, she had played with her new doll and her friends, and she seemed to be running through the living room or the kitchen every time Liz saw her. “Do you feel sick?”

“Sort of.” Annie shrugged, and looked suddenly very little as she said it, and Liz pulled her onto her lap and held her. But just holding her there, she could tell that Annie was running a fever. She put a hand on her head again and thought about calling the doctor.

“I hate to bother him on Christmas night,” Liz said pensively. And it was so bitter cold again. There was a storm coming in from the north, and they said it would be snowing again before morning.

“She'll be fine after a good night's sleep,” John said calmly. He was less of a worrier than Liz by nature. “It's just too much excitement for one small person.” They'd all been wound up for days, with seeing friends, and Tommy's game, and Christmas Eve, and all the preparations for Christmas. And Liz decided he was probably right. It was a lot for one little girl to handle. “How about riding to bed on Daddy's shoulders?” She liked the idea, but when he tried to lift her up, she called out sharply and said her neck hurt.

“What do you suppose that is?” Liz asked, as he came out of Annie's bedroom.

“Just a cold. Everyone at work's had one for weeks, and I'm sure all the kids have them at school. She'll be fine,” he reassured his wife, with a pat on the shoulder. And she knew he was right, but she always worried about things like polio and tuberculosis. “She's fine,” John said to Liz again, knowing how inclined she was to be overly concerned. “I promise.”

She went to kiss Annie herself then, and felt better when she saw her. Her eyes were bright, and although her head was hot, and she was still pale, she seemed completely coherent. She was probably just tired and overexcited. And he was right. She had a cold, or a little flu bug.

“You sleep tight, and if you feel sick, come and get us,” Liz told her as she tucked her tightly into bed and kissed her. “I love you very, very much, sweetheart …and thank you for the beautiful picture you made me and Daddy for Christmas.” She had made John an ashtray too, for his pipe, and painted it bright green, which she said was his favorite color.

Annie seemed to fall asleep almost before Liz left the room. And after she finished the dishes, she went back and checked her. Annie was even hotter by then, and she was stirring and moaning in her sleep, but she didn't wake up when Liz touched her. It was ten o'clock, and Liz decided it was worthwhile just calling the doctor.

He was at home, and she explained that Annie had a fever. She didn't want to risk waking her up by taking it, but she had had a hundred and one when she went to bed, which wasn't dangerous. She mentioned the stiff neck, and he said that aches and pains weren't unusual with the flu. He agreed with John that she was probably just overtired and had caught a cold over the weekend.

“Bring her in tomorrow morning, Liz, if the fever's gone, or I'll come by to see her. Just give me a call when she wakes up. But she'll be fine. I've got a couple of dozen of those bad colds with fevers. They don't amount to much, but they're pretty miserable while they last. Keep her warm, the fever might even break before morning.”

“Thanks so much, Walt.” Walter Stone had been their family doctor since before Tommy was born, and he was a good friend. As always, she'd felt reassured the minute she'd called him. And he was right. It was obviously nothing.

She and John sat in the living room for a long time that night, talking about their friends, their lives, their kids, how lucky they were, how many years had passed since they'd first met, and how well filled they had been. It was a time for taking stock and being grateful.

She checked on Annie again before they went to bed, and she seemed no warmer, and in fact, she seemed a little less restless. She lay very still, breathing softly. Bess, the dog, lay near the foot of her bed, as she often did. And neither child, nor dog, stirred as Liz left the room and went back to her own bedroom.

“How is she?” John asked, as he slid into bed.

“She's fine,” Liz smiled. “I know. I worry too much. I can't help it.”

“It's part of why I love you. You take such good care of all of us. I don't know what I ever did to get so lucky.”

“Just smart I guess, to snap me up when I was fourteen.” She had never known or loved another man before or since. And in the thirty-two years since she'd known him, her love for him had grown to passion.

“You don't look much older than fourteen now, you know,” he said almost shyly, and pulled her gently onto the bed with him. She came easily to him, and he slowly unbuttoned her blouse, as she slid off the velvet skirt she'd worn for Christmas. “I love you, Liz,” he whispered into her neck, as she felt her desire for him mount, and his hands run smoothly over her naked shoulders to her waiting breasts and his lips came down on hers firmly.

They lay together for a long time, and then at last they slept, sated and pleased. Theirs was a life filled with the good things they had built and found over the years. Theirs was a love they both respected and cherished. And Liz was thinking about him as she drifted off to sleep in his arms. He held her close to him, as he lay just behind her, his arms tight around her waist, his knees just behind hers, her bottom cupped by his body, his face nestled in her fine blond hair, and they slept together peacefully until morning.

She checked on Annie again as soon as she woke up the next day. Liz was still wrapping her dressing gown around her as she tied it, and entered Annie's room, and saw her there, still sleeping. She didn't look sick, but as soon as Liz approached, she saw that she was deathly pale, and barely breathing. Liz's heart pounded suddenly as she shook her a little bit, and waited for her to stir, but there was only a soft groan, and she didn't wake to her mother's touch, not even when Liz shook her hard, and started to shout her name. Tommy heard her before John and came running in to see what had happened.

“What's wrong, Mom?” It was as though he had sensed something the moment he heard her. He still had his pajamas on, he looked half asleep and his hair was tousled.

“I don't know. Tell Dad to call Dr. Stone. I can't wake Annie up.” She was starting to cry as she said it. She put her face down next to her child's, and she could feel her breathing, but Annie was unconscious, and she could tell instantly that her fever had skyrocketed since the night before. Liz didn't even dare leave her long enough to get the thermometer in the bathroom. “Hurry!” she called after his retreating form, and then she tried sitting her up. She stirred a little this time, and there was a little muffled cry, but she didn't speak or open her eyes, or seem to wake at all. She seemed not to know what was happening around her, and Liz just sat there and held her, crying softly. “Please, baby …please wake up …come on … I love you …Annie, please …” She was crying when John hurried into the room a moment later, with Tommy right behind him.

“Walt said he'll be right over. What happened?” He looked frightened too, although he didn't like to admit to Liz that he was worried. And Tommy was crying softly just behind his father's shoulder.

“I don't know … I think she has an awful fever … I can't wake her up … oh God … oh John …please …” She was sobbing, clutching her little girl, holding her as she sat there, rocking her, but this time Annie didn't even moan. She lay lifeless in her mother's arms, while her whole family watched her.