She'd have to dig it out, find another place for it. Reorganize everything, just when she'd thought she was finished. And look at that, she thought, as the buds formed, as they broke open to spread their deep blue petals. It was entirely the wrong color. Too bold, too dark, too bright.
It was beautiful; she couldn't deny it. In fact, she'd never seen a more beautiful specimen. It looked so strong, so vivid. It was already nearly as tall as she, with flowers as wide as dinner plates.
It lies. It lies.
That whisper, somehow female, somehow raging, slithered into her sleeping brain. She whimpered a little, tossed restlessly in her chilly bed.
Kill it! Kill it. Hurry before it's too late.
No, she couldn't kill something so beautiful, so alive, so vivid. But that didn't mean she could just leave it there, out of its place, upsetting the rest of the bed.
All that work, the preparation, the planning, and now this. She'cf just have to plan another bed and work it in. With a sigh, she reached out, feathered her fingers over those bold blue petals. It would be a lot of work, she thought, a lot of trouble, but -
"Mom. "
"Isn't it pretty?" she murmured. "It's so blue. "
"Mom, wake up. "
"What?" She tumbled out of the dream, shaking off sleep as she saw Luke kneeling in the bed beside her.
God, the room was freezing.
"Luke?" Instinctively she dragged the spread over him. "What's the matter?"
"I don't feel good in my tummy. "
"Aw. " She sat up, automatically laying a hand on his brow to check for fever. A little warm, she thought. "Does it hurt?"
He shook his head. She could see the gleam of his eyes, the sheen of tears. "It feels sick. Can I sleep in your bed?"
"Okay. " She drew the sheets back. "Lie down and bundle up, baby. I don't know why it's so cold in here. I'm going to take your temperature, just to see. " She pressed her lips to his forehead as he snuggled onto her pillow. Definitely a little warm.
Switching on the bedside lamp, she rolled out to get the thermometer from the bathroom.
"Let's find out if I can see through your brain. " She stroked his hair as she set the gauge to his ear.
"Did you feel sick when you went to bed?"
"Nuh-uh, it was . . . " His body tightened, and he made a little groan.
She knew he was going to retch before he did. With a mother's speed, she scooped him up, dashed into the bathroom. They made it, barely, and she murmured and stroked and fretted while he was sick.
Then he turned his pale little face up to hers. "I frew up. "
"I know, baby. I'm sorry. We're going to make it all better soon. "
She gave him a little water, cooled his face with a cloth, then carried him back to her bed. Strange, she thought, the room felt fine now.
"It doesn't feel as sick in my tummy anymore. "
"That's good. " Still, she took his temperature - 99. 1, not too bad - and brought the wastebasket over beside the bed. "Does it hurt anywhere?"
"Nuh-uh, but I don't like to frow up. It makes it taste bad in my throat. And my other tooth is loose, and maybe if I frow up again, it'll come out and I won't have it to put under my pillow. "
"Don't you worry about that. You'll absolutely have your tooth for under your pillow, just like the other one. Now, I'll go down and get you some ginger ale. You stay right here, and I'll be back in just a minute. Okay?"
"Okay. "