She thought the worst was over. Aaron hoped it was. He tried to keep his tone light. “Two things left. First, Zane, I need you to move each of your fingers for me. Not a lot. Just try bending them, okay?”
Lucy watched Aaron’s face, not her son’s hand. One by one, Zane wiggled his fingers, and then he wiggled them all at the same time. Tendons intact. A deep sigh left Aaron, and his chest eased.
“Great,” he said. “Now, are you ready for your final job?”
“Yeah, I can do it.”
Aaron went to a drawer of the med kit and brought out three suckers. “Which flavor?”
“Grape!”
“You’re in luck, buddy. I don’t always have grape.” He handed it to Zane. “The last thing I need you to do is sit quietly on the couch and suck on this all the way down to the stick.”
Zane laughed. “That’s not a job. That’s sugar.”
And the Freeman kids consumed it rarely. Aaron met Lucy’s eyes with what he hoped conveyed apology, but she was smiling.
“All done?” she said to Aaron.
“All done.”
“Can I show Daddy my bandage and my sucker?”
“In a little while,” Lucy said.
Aaron lifted Zane down from the counter, and Lucy stayed inside with him while Aaron stepped outside. From the backyard drifted the sound and scents of Sydney pushing the girls in their kiddie swings.
On the front porch Cassius stood leaning against the rail. Nearby Jeremy sat in a patio chair, bent forward with his head in his hands. When he looked up, his skin was shiny with oil between nose and upper lip. His eyes were still too wide, but the alarming scent of him wasn’t so strong.
Aaron said, “Zane’s okay. I stitched him up.”
“The bleeding?”
“That’s done. He’s fine. Eating a grape sucker to replenish his blood sugar and excited to have a scar.”
Jeremy crumpled forward again. “Thanks, Aaron.”
“How are you doing, man?” Aaron crouched beside him and pressed two fingers to his wrist. Good strong pulse.
“Got lightheaded for a few—a few minutes. The peppermint got—got me through. And Cassius babbling about… I don’t know what about. I can’t—I can’t remember.”
“Wow, that hurts,” Cassius said.
“He’s really fine? I want to—to see him.”
“Let me clean up,” Aaron said. “No sense you smelling a trace of it and having to start over with peppermint.”
He worked quickly, mindful of Jeremy’s need to see his son safe and well. He used a bleach-and-water solution on the counter and floor where blood had dripped and now dried. Even a few drops in water burned his nostrils and his throat, but nothing else was strong enough to prevent a retriggering of Jeremy’s turmoil. A phobia of blood and a wolf’s sense of smell made for an extreme combination. Aaron filled the sink with water to soak the bloody towel and, since it was white, added a few drops of bleach to that too. Better to be safe.
By the time he finished, his face and lungs were on fire. How did humans use this stuff regularly? Even a quarter-strength solution would make him pass out. He splashed cold water over his face and stepped out into the backyard to breathe. Then he ambled around the side of the house and gave Jeremy the all-clear. For the rest of the day until all fumes dissipated, the wolves would avoid that bathroom.
In the living room Zane had sucked his treat down to a speck of purple, and his three younger sisters crowded around him to admire his bandage. Aaron perched on the edge of Lucy’s piano bench as the other adults claimed couches and chairs. For a few minutes they made deliberate small talk, until Jeremy’s speech smoothed out and he crossed the room to pull Zane into his arms and give him a long hug. Then they all listened to Zane tell of the cool scar Aaron had promised him.
“I’m already like Daddy,” Zane said. “See, we’ve got brown hair. And we run fast. And we eat batter off the spoon when Mom lets us.”
“All very important points,” Jeremy said.
“I know.” Zane nodded hard, then lifted his bandaged hand. “But this will be themostimportant. Oh! And we’re theonlyboys in the family. Everyone else is a girl.”
