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“I will,” I said as I reached out and placed my hand upon her cheek again. “Smile. What is it you always tell me?”
She tried not to, but couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from turning up. “We’ll make it. You’ll see. This is the last one. Our last life.”
ESTHER
BEEP…
BEEP…
“99.1°F.” I read. “It’s coming down.” Sighing in relief I reached for the cold patch on his forehead when suddenly his hand grabbed me, and his eyelids snapped open he tightened his hold. “Ahh!”
“Who are you?” His blue eyes glared at me as he pulled me in closer. “Who are you?!”
“LET GO!” I hollered, scratching his arm as I tugged my hand away from him. “What is wrong with you?!”
Damn that hurt. I rubbed my wrist and he kept glaring as if he really didn’t know who I was. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe the fever had left him dazed. “Esther Noëlle? Alfred Noëlle’s granddaughter—”
“I know! But who…” He paused, his gaze drifting to my hands, one of which was rubbing my sore wrist and the other gripping onto the thermometer. “You were wearing rings?”
“Huh?”
“The rings! The ones on your hand when you shook mine? Those rings?”
He was insane and I didn’t want to get closer to him. I pointed to the rings which sat on the coffee table next to the bottle of water, medicine, and ice packs. He reached out to touch them but hesitated. It was then that I remembered Jeff Wheeler’s novel The Queen's Poisoner.
“Are you allergic to nickel?” I asked carefully leaning in and he lifted his head to look at me and I leaned back again.
“It’s not gold.”
I snickered. “I doubt Li-Mei would have given me her solid gold rings. I’m sure it’s made up of a whole bunch of different metals but I read that even the slightest amount of nickel can cause—”
“These are Li-Mei’s?” he asked softly looking back at them.
“Mine now…but they were hers. We share stuff all the time.” Her hands are smaller than mine so instead of dealing with the hassle of returning them, she’d given them to me.
He stared at them without saying anything and I found myself walking forward. He looked like he was in pain. Not physically but…like he was recalling something sad. Reaching for the empty ice-patch box he flipped it over, covered the rings and slid them to the end of the table and into the box. Rising to his feet, he walked over and handed the box to me. Confused and a bit stunned I took them slowly. He peeled the patch off his forehead and placed it over my wrist.
“Sorry.” He muttered pressing it down. “You’re right, I have nickel allergy. I’m usually much better at avoiding it but it seems I overlooked it.”
“Crap.” I sighed dropping my head. “I guess I can add poisoning you to my list of screw ups today.”
He stepped back and looked around the house which had the most picturesque wide-open views I’d ever seen. The whole house itself was made of wood, and yet most of the furniture felt much more modern. The colors kind of bored me though. Everything was bland. Like a model home. Maybe it was a way to make the inhabitants focus on the views?
“You cleaned up? How long was I out?”
“It’s a little after noon, so I guess about five hours. My grandfather said not to call for help and that you’d be okay. I was nervous and decided to clean up seeing as how I caused the mess in the first place.”
“Alfred? He called you?”
“Yep. I was able to find a charger in one of the boxes in the guest room along with some old clothes…seeing as everything else I owned was in that jacka…don’t curse, Esther…” I corrected myself. “That thief’s car. You should lie down, maybe eat—”
“I smell coffee,” he said, and like a bloodhound he walked around me and headed towards the kitchen. Without cream or sugar or even bothering to heat the pot he took a black mug from the cabinet, filled it, and chugged it.
“I’ll take you to file a police report. You can take the rest of my mom’s clothes to the guesthouse when you get back,” he said as he placed the cup back on the counter.
So many important things had been said in those two sentences. While I was contemplating how to reply he was already walking back to the stairs.
&nb
