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There was just enough strength in her voice to make Laura pause. “You’ve been badly hurt.”
“No. No, I’m all right,” she mumbled and made a weak attempt to rise.
Sebastian checked her attempt, warning, “Careful. You may have some internal injuries.”
“No.” Her hand trembled over the swollen surfaces of her bruised cheek and eye. “My face . . . that’s all.” She directed a pleading look at Laura. “Don’t call anyone. Please.”
The appeal was so poignant that Laura was torn between doing what she knew was right and giving in to the woman’s wishes. Sebastian delayed the moment of decision.
“Let’s get her off the floor and onto the bed.” He nodded in the direction of the unmade bed and the table lamp that lay atop it, its shade dented and askew. “Straighten the covers, will you?”
“Of course.” Laura moved quickly to retrieve the lamp and set it on the bedside table, leaving the shade atilt for the time being, while Sebastian cradled the slight woman in his arms.
The bedcovers were a tangled mess. Rather than take the time to straighten them out, Laura merely threw them back to expose the bottom sheet and moved out of Sebastian’s way. When he gently lowered the woman onto the mattress, Laura hurriedly plumped a pillow and slipped it under her head, her heart tearing and her anger growing at the little sounds of pain the woman attempted to smother.
Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed next to the woman, his gaze examining her again. “You really should have a professional assess your injuries, Mrs. Mitchell. You could very well be concussed.”
A tear trickled from the corner of her eye. “No, please.” The words were a sob. Then a look of panic flashed in her face, and again she attempted to rise. “My babies—”
“Your children are fine.” It required no great amount of pressure for Sebastian to force her to lie flat.
“Your daughter is in the living room playing with her doll,” Laura told her. “And your son”—she turned, not at all sure where the little thief was until she saw him standing in the doorway—“is right here.”
The woman relaxed against the mattress in relief, but it was short-lived as she roused herself again. “I need to see to them.”
Sebastian wouldn’t hear of it. “First we need to get you fixed up. There will be time enough later to tend to the children.”
The woman again settled back, but Laura suspected her easy acquiescence was based more on her lack of strength than an acceptance of Sebastian’s reasoning. Sebastian straightened from the bed, shook the top sheet loose from the tangled covers, and gently drew it across the woman, then stepped over to Laura’s side.
“You aren’t really going to listen to her, are you?” Laura demanded in a hissing whisper.
“What do you suggest?” he countered smoothly. “Her injuries are undoubtedly painful, but they are certainly not life-threatening.”
Laura desperately wanted to shoot down his logic, but the only argument she could summon was a weak one. “We can’t be certain of that.”
The look he gave her spoke volumes, but he chose not to offer a direct response. “I’m going to find the kitchen and get some ice for that eye of hers. Why don’t you get a wet cloth and clean her up a bit?”
The instant Sebastian moved toward the doorway, the boy bolted for the living room. Laura couldn’t help thinking that he was too young to have such a strong instinct for flight.
She followed Sebastian into the hall and turned right, toward the bathroom, while he went in search of the kitchen. She flipped on the bathroom light switch, made a brief survey of the small, cramped space, and located a linen cupboard built into the wall next to the bathtub. Dirty laundry, a mix of clothes and towels, was piled in front of its door. Laura pushed it out of the way with her foot and opened the door. The shelves were bare of all except two towels and three washcloths. She took the top one off the stack and crossed to the sink.
When she turned on the faucet, Laura noticed the medicine cabinet behind the mirror above the sink. She swung the mirrored door open and scanned the contents. There, on the top shelf, was a bottle of disinfectant. She took it down, found some cotton swabs in a basket sitting on the toilet’s tank lid, and removed two from the pack.
Armed with a wet washcloth, cotton swabs, and a bottle of disinfectant, Laura returned to the bedroom, placed the bottle and cotton swabs on the nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed. The woman lay there, not stirring.
Rather than startle her, Laura said, “Mrs. Mitchell, I’m going to clean you up a bit.”
As gently as she could, she went to work on the dried blood crusted on the woman’s chin. At some point in the process, she sensed she wasn’t alone. She glanced at the doorway and saw the little boy peering around the doorjamb. He quickly ducked out of sight.
Seconds after she returned to her task, Laura sensed his eyes watching her again. This time she didn’t turn but concentrated instead on the blood trail until she had cleaned up all of it except for that under the star-studded bandage. Carefully, Laura peeled it off.
As she went to lay the used bandage on the nightstand, she glanced at the boy. “Did you put this bandage on your mother’s cut?” The boy didn’t say a word, just stared back at her. “That was a very good thing to do.”
Once all the dried blood was removed, Laura poured disinfectant into the bottle’s lid, saturated the cotton swab with it, and warned her patient. “This is going to hurt, Mrs. Mitchell.”
The woman winced noticeably but made no sound. A sharply indrawn breath came from the boy by the doorway. After she had treated the deep split in the woman’s lip, Laura used a clean corner of the wet washcloth to wipe the rest of the woman’s face.
Almost with the first touch of the cloth on her bruised skin, the woman murmured in a sigh, “That feels so good.”
