* * *
Once in her room, Jessica shed her clothes, exhaustion seeping in and robbing her of strength. She would ponder that episode at Clint's bedside later, when her mind could function correctly. After freshening up and putting on a change of clothes, she decided to stretch out on her bed for just five minutes. That's all she needed.
Startled by a sound, Jessica blinked awake. How long have I been asleep? Clint! She jumped to her feet, stopping only long enough to glimpse herself in the mirror, then smoothed out her sleep-mussed hair and flew down the stairs. Opening the bedroom door, she rushed in and instantly froze. Rose Marie was perched by a sleeping Clint. The sheet was pulled down, leaving his chest and abdomen bare.
Hearing her, Rose Marie turned to face Jessica. "Oh, look who's here," she said as if Clint could hear her. "It's Johnnie's girlfriend." She grimaced at her own comment, then snapped out of it and placed a hand on Clint's chest. Her apprehensive expression and her brazen action were at odds with each other as well.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Jessica said, irritated her own voice sounded so puny. Her stomach started to churn.
"Oh, but I do," she said in almost a whisper. "You see, I watched your little episode with Johnnie, down by the stream." Again what she was saying belied her expression, which was one of empathy, or was it confusion? "It looked pretty intimate to me."
Jessica was stunned. What could she say to this? And why was Rose Marie delivering such a blow with compassion on her face? But, Jessica couldn't very well deny what she was saying, since it had happened just as she'd said. What would she do now? She didn't want Clint to find out, but she knew Rose Marie would happily tell him. And why shouldn't she? The way her hand lay possessively on Clint's chest forced Jessica to face the facts. They wanted each other. Rose Marie wouldn't be this bold otherwise, would she, right here in Uncle Roy's bedroom where anyone could walk in?
Had she misread Clint's tender look, his thankfulness? Was it only because she was his caregiver, his nurse? That is what he'd called her, wasn't it? His nurse.
You fool! You've done it to yourself again.
Hiccups erupted from her. Trying to stifle them, she turned to escape, but Rose Marie caught her hand and stared into her distressed face. "Jessica." Her voice was low and compassionate. "I'll take good care of him."
Appalled by Rose Marie's apparent takeover, she tugged against her hold and dashed for the door. In her zeal she over-twisted the door knob, causing it to screech with the strain—like her heart.