AllFreeNovel
Share Us
r />
Nick provided a flippant summary of his ordeal. “It’s worse than it looks, but I’ll need some new clothes. You’ll help me out there, won’t you, Luke?”
Clothes were about all Luke could replace, and he swallowed hard before he spoke. “Sure. When you feel up to it, Pam will open the clothes lockers. Take whatever you need.”
“Thanks, man.” Nick winked at Polly, but she was so badly frightened, she collapsed in the chair at his side and began to moan softly.
Luke still felt uneasy, but he was satisfied Nick had no deep cuts that would require stitches. “Mrs. Brooks, when you can spare the time, I’d like to speak with you in my office. If you change your mind about going to the hospital, Nick, let me know.”
Nick gave a jaunty salute, then rested his bloody hand palm up on the arm of his chair. “What do they call these scrapes, abrasions?”
“Nasty abrasions is what I’d call them,” Luke countered, “but that’s scarcely a medical term.”
“Whatever. I’ll survive. It’ll take more than a Buick to do me in.”
“Try and be more careful in the future,” Luke cautioned. “I’d like to report the woman who hit you even if you wouldn’t. Did you notice her address?”
Nick shook his head. “It was only a couple of blocks away, but I was just watching the blood drip off my hands, not the house number.”
“Want me to go look for blood in the street?” Rafael offered eagerly. “Maybe I could find the house.”
“No,” Luke ordered. “You’d be more likely to be hit by a car yourself.” With a last anxious glance toward Nick, he entered his office and closed the door.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Polly whispered.
“Rafael, will you please help her into the bathroom?” Catherine asked.
Rafael offered Polly a hand but clearly wasn’t happy about it. “Just don’t puke on me,” he warned, but he got Polly across the office to the bathroom without mishap. He came back, picked up Nick’s skateboard and turned it over.
“At least your board wasn’t ruined.”
Catherine hadn’t seen Rafael since his run-in with the police, but his orange hair was still spiked, and he looked none the worse, or better, for the experience. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if the police had returned his knife. Because she would want a weapon if she were ever forced to live on the street, she hoped his was tucked away safely in his backpack.
A few minutes later, Polly came weaving out of the bathroom, but she was still pale. “I’ll wait for you guys on the steps,” she murmured softly. “Come get me when you go to look for clothes.”
“Will do,” Nick assured her. He leaned over to gauge the damage to his knees. “Are there any of those big, wide Band-Aids in the first-aid kit?”
“Yes, just let me sponge off the last of the dirt, then I’ll apply a layer of antibiotic cream and cover it with the largest bandage. As for your hands, maybe the cream and a gauze wrapping would be best.”
Nick flopped back and drew in a deep breath. “It was such a nice day too. I was just cruising along and then, wham. That’s the way life is though, isn’t it?”
“It sure is,” Catherine agreed, but she was very sorry he was so cynical at such a young age. It took her a few more minutes to complete what treatment she could offer, and then she removed the disposable rubber gloves. “Wait here for Pam,” she suggested.
“Don’t worry. I’m trying hard not to move,” Nick promised and Rafael laughed as though greatly amused by his friend’s sense of humor.
Catherine tossed the gloves into the trash then went into the bathroom. When she discovered Nick’s bloody handprint on her sweater, she considered changing into the spare clothes she kept in her car for emergencies. This certainly looked like a good day to use them, but she hated to keep Luke waiting and decided against it for the moment.
She rapped lightly on his door and waited for his call to enter. She found him standing by the window, arms braced against the sill, his head down in a dejected pose that didn’t invite conversation. It upset her not to know if he was angry with her, or frightened by what had happened to Nick. She’d learned not to second-guess him and waited patiently for him to speak.
Before the wait grew uncomfortably long, Luke drew in a deep breath and straightened up. “I wasn’t gone for more than thirty minutes. I walked through the door thinking about a mural, but blood sure has a way of reordering priorities. Frankly, I don’t know which is worse, that Nick was struck by a car on his way here, or that you’re covered with his blood.”
He sounded furiously angry, but his caustic rebuke wasn’t mirrored in his eyes. He had chosen sarcasm over the truth, but Catherine could see he was frightened for her. He’d lost everyone he loved, and he had to be terrified some tragedy would befall her as well. That she couldn’t promise that it wouldn’t made her ache for him.
“I saw the film on blood-borne pathogens years ago, and I wore a pair of the rubber gloves kept in the office first-aid kit. So you see, I avoided any needless risk.”
“That’s not much comfort,” Luke complained, his tone still bitter.
“Perhaps not, but it’s all I have to offer. You know what Nick told me when he first got here? He said he’d refused help from the woman who’d struck him because he just wanted to get home. That’s how he thinks of Lost Angel, and you deserve the credit. Just as you’d hoped, the kids feel safe here.”
