“How is he?”
“Delusional,” Ian whispered. “Is that the brandy or the pain?”
“More the pain, I would think. I’d trade my right arm for some morphine.”
“Maybe Jared will produce another miracle,” Ian suggested.
“Maybe,” Doc sighed.
I wiped absently at Walter’s pallid face, listening more intently now, but they didn’t speak of Jared again.
Not here, Melanie whispered.
Looking for help for Walter, I agreed.
Alone, she added.
I thought about the last time I’d seen him—the kiss, the belief… He probably wanted some time to himself.
I hope he isn’t out there convincing himself that you’re a very talented actress-slash-Seeker again.…
That’s possible, of course.
Melanie groaned silently.
Ian and Doc murmured in quiet voices about inconsequential things, mostly Ian catching Doc up on what was going on in the caves.
“What happened to Wanda’s face?” Doc whispered, but I could still hear him easily.
“More of the same,” Ian said in a tight voice.
Doc made an unhappy noise under his breath and then clicked his tongue.
Ian told him a bit about tonight’s awkward class, about Geoffrey’s questions.
“It would have been convenient if Melanie had been possessed by a Healer,” Doc mused.
I flinched, but they were behind me and probably didn’t notice.
“We’re lucky it was Wanda,” Ian murmured in my defense. “No one else —”
“I know,” Doc interrupted, good-natured as always. “I guess I should say, it’s too bad Wanda didn’t have more of an interest in medicine.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. I was careless to reap the benefits of perfect health without ever being curious about the cause.
A hand touched my shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for,” Ian said.
Jamie was being very quiet. I looked around and saw that he was curled up on the cot where Doc had been napping.
“It’s late,” Doc noted. “Walter’s not going anywhere tonight. You should get some sleep.”
“We’ll be back,” Ian promised. “Let us know what we can bring, for either of you.”
I laid Walter’s hand down, patting it cautiously. His eyes snapped open, focusing with more awareness than before.
“Are you leaving?” he wheezed. “Do you have to go so soon?”
I took his hand again quickly. “No, I don’t have to leave.”
He smiled and closed his eyes again. His fingers locked around mine with brittle strength.
Ian sighed.
“You can go,” I told him. “I don’t mind. Take Jamie back to his bed.”
Ian glanced around the room. “Hold on a sec,” he said, and then he grabbed the cot closest to him. It wasn’t heavy—he lifted it easily and slid it into place next to Walter’s. I stretched my arm to the limit, trying not to jostle Walter, so that Ian could arrange the cot under it. Then he grabbed me up just as easily and set me on the cot beside Walter. Walter’s eyes never fluttered. I gasped quietly, caught off guard by the casual way Ian was able to put his hands on me—as though I were human.
Ian jerked his chin toward Walter’s hand clasped around mine. “Do you think you can sleep like that?”
“Yes, I’m sure I can.”
“Sleep well, then.” He smiled at me, then turned and lifted Jamie from the other cot. “Let’s go, kid,” he muttered, carrying the boy with no more effort than if he were an infant. Ian’s quiet footsteps faded into the distance until I couldn’t hear them anymore.
Doc yawned and went to sit behind the desk he’d constructed out of wooden crates and an aluminum door, taking the dim lamp with him. Walter’s face was too dark to see, and that made me nervous. It was like he was already gone. I took comfort in his fingers, still curled stiffly around mine.
Doc began to shuffle through some papers, humming almost inaudibly to himself. I drifted off to the sound of the gentle rustling.
Walter recognized me in the morning.
He didn’t wake until Ian showed up to escort me back; the cornfield was due to be cleared of the old stalks. I promised Doc I would bring him breakfast before I got to work. The very last thing I did was to carefully loosen my numb fingers, freeing them from Walter’s grasp.
His eyes opened. “Wanda,” he whispered.
“Walter?” I wasn’t sure how long he would know me, or if he would remember last night. His hand clutched at the empty air, so I gave him my left, the one that wasn’t dead.
“You came to see me. That was nice. I know… with the others back… must be hard… for you… Your face…”
He seemed to be having a difficult time making his lips form the words, and his eyes went in and out of focus. How like him, that his first words to me would be full of concern.
“Everything’s fine, Walter. How are you feeling?”
“Ah —” He groaned quietly. “Not so… Doc?”
“Right here,” Doc murmured, close behind me.
“Got any more liquor?” he gasped.
“Of course.”
Doc was already prepared. He held the mouth of a thick glass bottle to Walter’s slack lips and carefully poured the dark brown liquid in slow drips into his mouth. Walter winced as each sip burned down his throat. Some of it trickled out the side of his mouth and onto his pillow. The smell stung my nose.
“Better?” Doc asked after a long moment of slow pouring.