Odin’s lips twitched. “Yep.”
“Fine,” she grumbled.
He got the transfusion started, and Wendy never made a peep at being pricked with a needle.
She hadn’t since she was a small kid.
That’s what you get with constantly ill children, though. They’re not affected by much.
Odin’s hands were adept for being so dang large.
“Don’t they say that doctors aren’t generally as good at finding veins as nurses?” I asked curiously.
“Generally, yes,” he mused. “I start a lot, though.”
He didn’t say why or how, and I didn’t push.
I did, however, wonder what kind of practice he got when he was working with dead people.
He hadn’t had any trouble starting mine the other day…
“I think you did splendidly,” Wendy mused. “This chair is huge. Can I have some of your pink Ticonderoga pencils?”
My eye twitched.
“How do you know I have more?”
“Because I opened your drawers,” she said. “Do you have any snacks?”
He hung the bag of blood on the same coat hook that he’d used for me the other day and opened his desk drawer. He pulled out a couple before saying, “Just don’t tell anyone where you got them. I don’t want them asking.”
Wendy cupped them to her chest like they were precious.
He walked away and came back a few minutes later with some monitoring equipment that was typical for when you were getting a blood transfusion. I’d had it explained to me by Dr. Pendelton that, though they didn’t expect anything to go wrong, they still wanted to make sure. And the only way to do that was to monitor the levels with equipment.
It looked way scarier than it actually was, according to him.
I actually liked to hear the sound of Wendy’s heart. It reminded me that she was still here, and thriving.
Once he had Wendy settled, he pulled out some blank computer paper and set it on his desk in front of her. Wendy smiled and got to work practicing her letters.
Odin went to work, doing something in the large room behind me.
I sat on the edge of the desk then so I could keep an eye on both of them.
Wendy was perfectly content.
Meanwhile, Odin looked partially frustrated.
“What is it?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
Odin looked up and shrugged. “Work stuff.”
He didn’t tell me that he couldn’t tell me, but it was obvious.
The door to the office opened and a large man wearing a sheriff’s uniform stepped inside.
The scowl on his face had my heart hammering.
