AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"What happened? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine. A splinter, that's all."
"Are you sure? Splinters don't usually bleed like that."
She thrust her sheets aside and padded over to examine his hand. Her night shirt left her legs bare, something her sudden concern for him kept her from noticing. But he was painfully aware of her semi-dressed state. He let her draw him closer to the light, savoring the touch of her soft fingers against his, and the delicate brush of her cotton covered breast against his upper arm.
She gasped, and he saw his injury as she must. Thick blood oozed from the puncture wounds, already swelling and puffing where the splinters of wood remained. He'd heal as soon as the splinters were removed, but she had no way of knowing that.
"We need to clean those cuts, and pull the splinters out. You don't have any hydrogen peroxide in your bathroom, but warm water should work. I'm more concerned about how we'll pull the splinters. Do you have any tweezers?"
"No, but I won't need any." He dropped his other arm around her waist and gave her a light squeeze, the briefest of caresses, before he broke away. Regrettably, he couldn't linger with her. She needed to get ready.
His touch reminded her of her undressed state, and she hopped back, trying to stretch the nightshirt to cover more of her legs. Taking pity on her, he turned aside. She relaxed, unable to tell he could still see her out of the corner of his eye.
"I'll use the other bathroom," he told her. "You'll need this one. We're leaving for the hospital in twenty minutes. You'll finally get your chance to see the research application wing of the Institute."
"Twenty minutes?" She whirled and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
Alone in the other bathroom, he held his hand over the child-height sink. Thick blood oozed from the wounds, running down his fingers to drip into the sink. Slowly, the blood forced the splinters from his flesh. Thinner blood gushed out, cleaning the wounds, then slowed to a trickle. He leaned down to rinse off his hand and splash the blood off the porcelain. By the time he put down the towel, his puncture wounds were only slightly reddened blemishes. In half an hour, they'd fade completely.
He stepped out of the bathroom, then stopped. Rebecca would notice the sudden change. And she'd demand an explanation.
He kept a box of adhesive bandages decorated with cheerful teddy bears in Gillian's medicine cabinet. They were silly things for a grown man to use, especially since he didn't need them, but it would forestall any questions.
He rejoined Gillian in the kitchen. She noticed his new plumage at once. A montage of memories slipped through his thin mental shielding, images of Gillian with a skinned knee, cut finger, skinned elbow and other minor cuts and abrasions common to young children. Each time, he or Mrs. Waters had been instantly at her side to kiss her "ouchie" and make it better, as well as applying bandages and disinfectant.
"Did you get an ouchie, Daddy?"
"Yes. I cut myself on a splinter."
"Let me kiss it and make it better." She sat up straight and tall, and held out her hand with the regal grace of a princess.
Smiling, he placed his injured hand in hers. She bent over his hand and made loud kissing noises over the bandages, performing the magic ritual previously reserved for adults. The opportunity thrilled her.
"All better," she announced.
"Thank you, sweetheart. It feels better already." He ruffled her soft mop of curls. "We're going to make you better, too."
Today she'd get her last shot. The doctor would inject the bone marrow cells from Rebecca into Gillian, along with enough of her normal medicine to keep her immune system functioning until the healthy cells started producing. With luck, Desmond would never have to subject his daughter to the torment of shots again.
But first he had to get her ready to go to the hospital. He picked up her empty cereal bowl and put it in the sink. Then he collected her silverware, and dropped that in. Finally, he lifted her out of her booster seat.
"Don't put me in the sink!"
He laughed. "I won't."
He set her on the counter and soaked a cloth in warm water. Soggy remnants of breakfast decorated her face and hands. Hands?
"Gillian, were you eating your cereal with your fingers?"
"Uh-huh." She grinned and mimed how it was done. "Big flakes!"
They both turned when Rebecca spoke from the doorway.
"Is breakfast over with, or can I have some?"
"The doctor doesn't want you to have any coffee. Because of the anesthesia," he told her.
