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It was a particularly bright and cheery day in Saint Marie, but Jack Mooney was not feeling so cheerful.
He had caught a nasty tropical sickness and was feeling feverish, achy, and altogether miserable. His team was well aware of his condition, and despite his protestations that they were only a small team and they needed all the help they could get whether he was ill or not, they practically forced him to take a sick day and go back home to rest.
This of course, led to him lying on his bed, wrapped in a damp, cool towel that he had soaked under the tap— until he was startled by a knock at the door. With every step taking any ounce of energy he had left in him, he dragged himself to the door and opened it, surprised to see Catherine Bordey standing there with a steaming pot of homemade chicken soup.
"Bonjour, Jack," she greeted him warmly, wearing another one of her elaborate dresses. "I heard you were feeling under the weather, so I thought I would bring you some of my soup to make you feel better."
He was touched by her kindness. "Thank you, Catherine," he said as he managed a grateful smile around his sniffles. "That's very kind of you."
At that moment, a sudden realisation struck him with the force of a hurricane. The team must have called her on his behalf, and although he appreciated the gesture, he was horrified that he was inconveniencing her— going all the way to his little home to take care of him, and he felt like he had let her down by not being able to take care of himself.
The thought gnawed at him.
But somewhere, deep within the back of his mind— something that he tried desperately to squash down; he secretly wanted to be taken care of, because no one had done that in a long time.
He was the one who always took care of others, the pillar of strength for everyone else. But just then, he realised how much he craved the gentle touch of someone else's care, the warmth of their presence, and the reassurance that he didn't have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders alone. It was a vulnerability that he rarely even allowed himself to acknowledge, but it was there, lurking in the shadows of his heart, which tried to remind him that he too needed care, love, and attention, just like anyone else.
He watched as Catherine bustled into the kitchen and began expertly heating up the soup on the stove. "Now, you just relax," she gestured for him to lie back down on his admittedly now enticing bed. "I'll take care of everything."
As the soup heated up, he flopped back into his bed, soothing his aches after standing to open the door, and she sat down next to him. "So, how are you feeling?" she asked kindly, placing a hand on his forehead to check his temperature.
"I'm alright," he shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "Just a bit of a cold."
She raised an eyebrow. " Just a bit of a cold? You sound like a man who's on his deathbed!"
Jack couldn't help but chuckle. Catherine always had a way of making him feel better. "I guess I'm not very good at being sick," he admitted.
“No one is good at being sick!” she smiled sympathetically. "But, don't worry. You'll be feeling better in no time once you've had some of my famous chicken soup."
As she handed him a bowl of soup, he couldn't help but smile; the aroma filled his nostrils, as he watched the steam rising from the bowl. It looked delicious.
He took a spoonful and savoured the flavour. The soup was warm and comforting, with large chunks of vegetables floating at the top and just the right amount of spice to send heat spreading through his body, soothing his aches and pains.
"This is amazing," he hummed through his haze, taking another sip of the homemade broth.
She beamed with pride. "I'm glad you like it, Jack. It's a Bordey family recipe passed down through generations, and it's served your predecessors very well."
They sat in companionable silence for a while; Jack eating his soup and Catherine keeping him company. He felt his spirits lifting as the warmth of the soup and Catherine's kindness washed over him.
"You know, Catherine," he said after a while. "I don't think I could have survived this cold without you."
She smiled, patting his arm gently. "Of course, you could have. But it's always nice to have someone to take care of you when you're feeling under the weather."
He nodded in agreement. "Yes, it is. Thank you for this, Catherine."
Despite his initial reluctance to take a day off, he found himself relaxing in Catherine's company. Her presence was comforting, and the delicious soup was doing wonders for his cold-ridden body. He could feel himself growing more drowsy and his eyelids were getting heavy.
She noticed his fatigue and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "You should rest," she said softly.
He wanted to protest, but he knew she was right. He finished the last spoonful of soup and leaned back on his freshly cleaned white sheets, allowing her to tuck another damp towel around him snugly.
"Sleep well, Jack," she whispered, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and sneaking in a kiss on his forehead.
He closed his eyes, feeling the effects of the soup and Catherine's presence lulling him into a peaceful sleep. He could hear her humming softly next to him as he drifted off— it was as if he were transported to a place where time had no meaning, where he could float along in tranquillity for as long as he liked.
The next morning, he woke up feeling significantly better. His congestion had cleared, and he felt more energised than he had in days. As he got up and made his way to the kitchen, he noticed that the soup pot was still on the stove, and there was a note from Catherine next to it.
'Dear Jack,
I hope you slept well and are feeling better today. I left the soup pot on the stove, so help yourself to more if you want. I've also left some freshly baked bread on the counter for you to enjoy with the soup.
I wanted to remind you to take care of yourself, Jack. You have a tendency to put others first, but it's important to make sure you're looking after your own health too. Please don't hesitate to ask for help if you need it, and take the time you need to rest and recuperate.
I also wanted to let you know how much we all appreciate everything you do for us here on the island. We're lucky to have you.
Take care, Jack, And if you need anything else, just give me a call.
Best wishes,
Catherine xx'
Smiling to himself, he ladled himself another bowl of soup and tore off a piece of the warm bread, unable to imagine a better way to start his day.
He resolved to take Catherine's advice to heart and make sure he took better care of himself from now on. And whenever he felt under the weather, he knew he could count on Catherine and her magical chicken soup to make him feel better.