His feet might have been freezing. Smed was certain his fingers were. He kept shoveling the fresh snow even if more was coming. It was a dry snow so it was easy to slide it away with the shovel to the sides of driveway. But it was so cold.
His lips were chapped and his body tired. He couldn't think he might be achy. Then came a sneeze and another. He looked sleepily at the driveway in the dark, thinking this would have to do. He shuffled into the kitchen. Even there he felt too tired to sit. Finally he did. It felt good to be in the warmth of the kitchen.
The next thing he knew, Sammi was getting his snowboots off.
"I was just resting," he sighed as if he might should get back out there.
"Let Gavin or Timo, do it." She told him. "Or even me." She felt his cheek, then his forehead. She was certain he had a fever.
"I'm OK." But he wasn't really in any hurry to get off his coat.
"I just bet you are." She coaxed him a long, getting his coat off and up to bed.
"I'm never sick." He promised, as he was getting out of his damp clothes and then into his flannel pajama bottoms with the moons and the stars. Smed put on a fresh T-shirt as he slightly shivered.
"Well, you need to rest." She went to get the Tylenol.
He sat there on the bed with his heavy lids half shut. Even his eyes were burning and his throat really did hurt, now that he thought about it. Especially when he swallowed.
"But what if I get you, sick?" He took the glass of water and the pills. He remembered how awful she'd looked when he found her in her room last year. He didn't want to ever witness that sort of illness, again.
"I'm sure I'll get to the doctor sooner next time. I'd wanted to be left alone. Then. I didn't want to see anybody. It was a stupid thing to do. Now I know better." Sammi assured him. She asked him if he wanted anything to eat. "I can bring you some tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich."
Maybe he wasn't that sick. That did sound like the best supper on a very cold night.