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“What’s wrong?” she asked groggily, having fallen asleep almost immediately after she lay down.
In answer Katrina threw up. In Laurel’s lap. Half an hour later she’d changed into her pajamas and gotten Katrina back to bed with a trash can sitting beside her in case she didn’t make it to the bathroom. Generally, Laurel had a cast-iron stomach but not tonight. Maybe it was the pregnancy, but she’d barely avoided being sick herself. She crawled in bed, hoping Katrina was over the worst of it, but knowing that wasn’t likely.
So when Cody woke her up later, she wasn’t surprised. “Is your sister okay?”
“I dunno. But I feel—”
She managed to get him turned around before he threw up on her and the bed. He didn’t make it to the bathroom, of course. By the time she got him settled, and cleaned up the mess, Katrina was at it again. She alternated taking care of the children throughout the night, feeling worse every moment.
I’m going to have to call in sick and stay home with the kids. But at least I don’t have the virus. Yet.
About five a.m. she thought the crisis was past and both kids seemed a little better. She called and left a message at work that she had to take a sick day. Gratefully she crawled into bed.
Five minutes later she made a dash for the bathroom.
