by Shea Swain
“Our government invested a lot of money in making Jasper into the lethal weapon he is and as a favor to me he has agreed to teach Ian to defend himself. He’s the best. But he can’t teach Ian if Ian doesn’t have that certain something—”
“What is he looking for in a student?” Richard asked angrily, “The desire to drink his food through a straw?”
In spite of Richard’s anger, his uncle laughed. “Look at your brother, Richard. Look at him.”
Richard turned but didn’t find Ian on the floor bawling where any kid and most grown men would be if they’d been struck like that by a man as big as Jasper. Ian was crying, but there was really no way to tell other than seeing the tears stream down his inflamed cheek. His brother’s breathing was normal, or maybe it was too calm. His gray eyes were fixed on Jasper, his fists were clenched tightly at his sides, and his shoulders were squared off. For a kid that had never been hit in his entire life before today, Ian took it like…a fighter.
“Well?” Vincent shouted.
“I’d say Ian was made for this.” Jasper shrugged. Then the brute smiled at Vincent as if it was a punch line to an inside joke only they shared.
Spring of 2002
The sounds of distant voices and beeping were inside Ian’s head. Was that Family Guy he heard? Ian slowly lifted his eyelids because he didn’t have the strength to open them any faster. Why did his eyelids hurt? His pain definitely overshadowed his weakness. On the television that was anchored to the wall he saw his favorite television show playing.
With squinted eyes, Ian looked around the room. The overhead light was on with a low glow, but even that little bit of light was hell on his eyes. He swallowed, or tried to, but his throat was dry. He turned his head toward the rolling tray table that was usually kept beside his bed. It was there and so was the sweating purple pitcher of ice water and a small Styrofoam cup with a straw. He reached his hand out over the bed railing, but his fingertips only grazed the condensation around the bottom of the cup.
Something was preventing him from the drink he so desperately needed.
Frustrated, he raised his arm and peered at the IV in it. Without a thought, he ripped the plastic tubing out of his arm and dropped it on the bed. Ignoring the thin stream of blood, Ian reached for the cup again. When the water reached his mouth, he sighed with delight, but it was gone too fast. Leaning forward, he grabbed the pitcher, removed the lid and gulped down the contents, spilling water all over himself.
It took him a little while to catch his breath after downing the water, but his thirst still wasn’t sated. Ian pulled the blood pressure cuff off his arm and lowered the bedrail. He swung his feet off the bed and sat on the edge.
He was here in the hospital because he was ill. He was very ill and no one knew what had made him so, not even his uncle, Vincent, who knows everything. He had heard his uncle and father talking to his pediatrician. The doctors didn’t think he would survive.
Only he had, because of…
It was because of Dr. Marroe that he was alive.
Was it a dream? It could have been. He could have been hallucinating, but it felt so real. It was one day ago—maybe two, he wasn’t sure—but Dr. Marroe came into this very room, touched his arm, and woke him. The doctor told him that everything would be fine and that he would never again need the injections he’d been taking since birth for his severe and deadly allergies. Then the doctor had injected him with a clear fluid that had a yellowish glow.
When did that happen, if it happened at all?
Ian frantically looked around the room for something that would tell him what day it was. On a black and white erase board under the television he saw the date scribbled along with the name of a nurse. He gasped as he realized he’d been here for over three weeks. He went over his personal information in his mind. His name: Ian Howl, age ten, senator’s son, and loved games. So far he felt sane, but what was disturbing was that Dr. Marroe could not have come to him.
Dr. Randall Marroe died three years ago.
“You’re up.” Standing in the doorway of his room was his…father? No, it couldn’t be his father, not with that relieved, loving look on his face. That had to be Uncle Vincent. “I’ll call the nurse.”
Whoever it was left the room quickly.
Who had that been, Vincent or Father?
Ian gripped his head. What is wrong with me? His heart sped up, his ears rang, his vision blurred, and his body hummed with…with what? Ian gripped the edge of the mattress to level himself. He was in a complete panic for the first time in his life.
“Ian.” The voice was distant. “Ian, can you hear me? Focus on my voice. You must calm down and focus.”
Closing his eyes, Ian counted to ten in his head. In English at first, then in the four other languages he spoke fluently. This usually worked, and he could feel his body relaxing as he started counting all over again in English. Soon he could hear all the sounds around him clearing, separate sounds that seem so close but so far away. His body felt tuned, strong. Opening his eyes, he focused on the man in front of him. This is definitely Uncle Vincent.
Ian looked at the man standing just inside the room near the door. It had been his father who’d entered the room earlier. His father had been worried about him? The look on his face had been so loving, concern-filled. Now, his dad was his usual self, standoffish and oddly…looking annoyed.
“He looks out of it, Vincent,” his father said.
Ian mechanically moved his gaze back to his uncle who was about to stick a needle in his arm. When Vincent moved to stick him with the syringe, Ian took hold of his uncle’s wrist and firmly squeezed. “I don’t need that anymore.”
Vincent frowned. “This is your—”
“You should take your medicine, Ian,” his father chimed in.
Ian didn’t know if it was a dream or if Dr. Marroe’s visit really happened, but he did know one thing. Right now, at this exact moment, he felt better than he’d ever felt in his life. No headaches and no irritation. Dr. Marroe said he didn’t need those injections and with the way he felt…he was certain he never would again.
“I’ll let you know when I do,” he said to Vincent. But Vincent didn’t put the needle away. “Please, Dad,” Ian said, looking at his father, “I don’t need it.”
To Ian’s surprise his father asked, “How do you feel?”
“This may just be the calm before the storm, Victor. He needs these injections.” Vincent held up the syringe.
“I feel strong, healthy,” Ian answered honestly.
His father came forward and placed his hand on Vincent’s shoulder. “He says he feels fine, so let’s wait and see.”
Ian wanted to smile. He wanted to wrap his arm around the man and hug him like a son should hug his father, but he knew better. So he inclined his head to his father and simply said, “And I’m ready to go.” He let go of Vincent’s arm, hopped off the bed, and strode into the bathroom without saying another word.
A SLIGHT VIBRATION PUSHED ARIA toward a partial state of sleepy consciousness. She groaned as she realized she was being pulled from the best night’s sleep ever. She lifted her hand over her closed lids and tried to stave off the presence of daylight. She tried unsuccessfully to recapture the fading dream that interpreted her deepest desires and offered them to her freely.
“Maybe you should let her sleep,” a small young voice whispered.
“I don’t want to,” another young voice replied, this one quieter.
The bed shook and a soft hand brushed Aria’s arm that covered her eyes. “Aria, wake up. Wake up. Wake up.”
Lifting her arm and opening her eyes, she asked sleepily, “Do I have too?”
“Yes,” Mandy jumped up and down, rocking the bed more.
Aria moaned. Her tired eyes fell on Mandy’s cute, little cherub face. Aria grimaced when the little angel began to bounce up and down, jostling the bed again. “I’m awake. I’m awake,” she sang, smiling as she looked at Mandy, who clearly loved dre
sses. The adorable, green sundress and a flowing ribbon in her long hair complemented her café au lait skin.
Aria pushed herself up on her elbows, vaguely remembering she’d heard two voices. Selene stood at the foot of the bed. Her face wasn’t as round and chunky like her cousin’s, but she was just as adorable. Dressed in a green dress similar to Mandy’s, her big, round curious eyes watched Aria with interest. Aria smiled and Selene looked away. Aria figured befriending Selene would take some time.
“What can I do for you ladies?” Aria fully sat up in the bed, running her hand through her tangled hair.
Mandy scooted closer and began fingering the matted mess of Aria’s hair, too. “We’re princesses, not ladies.” Mandy frowned as she leaned her face into Aria’s.
“Breakfast will be ready soon,” Selene whispered.
Aria realized then that Ian wasn’t in bed with her. Suddenly the events of last night flashed in her mind. She quickly grabbed the top sheet to cover her chest. As she was pulling it up, she realized she wore her tank top and night shorts. How did she get dressed? Had Ian dressed her without waking her?
“You coming to eat with us, Aria?” Mandy asked, as she stacked Aria’s hair atop her head, then let it fall back down.
Aria pushed her hair out of her face. “I’ll be down in a few.”
“Come on, Mandy.” Selene waited until Mandy climbed down off the bed, then the two girls left Aria alone in the room.
Had last night with Ian been a dream? Yes…definitely a dream, Aria told herself. Her mind had made it all up. The fact that it was a dream made her feel dirty. To imagine something so detailed, so deliciously mind blowing, was very naughty.
Aria moved one of her legs to get up. Pleasure and an achy pain shot through her core. She moaned about to complain about the strange feeling, then her eyes widened as she suddenly realized that her entire body was deliciously sore. It had definitely not been a dream. Her face burned with embarrassment as she remembered how wanton and out of character she’d been.
God, where was Ian? Did he regret what happened?
Crawling out of the bed, she went to the closet where Ian had placed her bags. All her clothing was hung or folded on shelves. She smiled, her disappointment of him not being around when she woke beginning to melt away. Hitting the bathroom first, Aria quickly used the facilities, brushed her teeth, and washed her face. Never being a fan of too much makeup, she used a little mascara, liner, and matte gloss. She dressed in a pair of denim Capri pants, a red V-neck short-sleeve shirt, and pulled her brushed thick, wavy hair up in a loose ponytail.
She gave herself an once-over, made the bed, then walked down the hall to the stairs. When she got downstairs and made her way to the kitchen, Aria was amazed to see everyone working together like a well-oiled machine. Mama Morel and Roxanne worked the stove, and the food smelled absolutely delicious. Alexis was busy setting the table while Michael and the girls filled the glasses with orange juice. Aria felt the need to help with something, but she didn’t quite know where she could without interfering with their flow.
“Good morning, Aria.” Mama Morel smiled. She looked better than the last time Aria had seen her, but she still had a hint of sadness in those familiar gray eyes of hers. “If you’d like to help out, you could butter the biscuits.”
“Sure.” Aria returned the smile as she moved toward the refrigerator. As she did her part for the meal, she realized she hadn’t seen Ian. A sinking feeling suddenly bombarded her. Aria froze; her hands hovered over the biscuits. No…he wouldn’t leave me here. Ian wouldn’t do that to me. Would he? Had she seen his clothes in the closet? She’d seen hers but hadn’t noticed if his were there.
Aria glanced around at the people that surrounded her. They would surely tell her if she’d been left here. Unless they thought Ian had told her he was leaving. Stop it, he would never leave me. Calming herself, Aria forced herself to hold the knife steady as she buttered the fluffy biscuits but she was worried until she heard footsteps and male laughter.
It was Ian’s laugh—a melodious song she could get used to hearing every day for the rest of her life. And when he entered the kitchen with Papa Morel and a young boy she assumed was Tanner, a handsome kid with short curly hair, Ian’s eyes instantly sought out hers. She didn’t want to appear too happy or relieved, but she didn’t expect to see his eyes light up the way they did when he saw her. She felt her heart shudder and her lips spread into a smile that spoke everything she felt.
“Don’t you dare come in here without washing your hands,” Mama Morel said, as Ian and Tanner stepped toward the kitchen. Pop Morel patted both boys on the back as he led them to the bathroom down the hall. Butterflies danced in Aria’s stomach because Ian watched her over his shoulder as he was ushered away. He looked hungry and she doubted it was food he wanted.
Aria fought back a huge grin as she continued what she was doing. It wasn’t until she felt a hand on her arm that she looked over her shoulder again. Her heart actually slowed when their eyes met. Ian wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. Aria looked around the room, but no one seemed shocked by his behavior. She placed the knife down just as Ian pulled her out of the kitchen.
Ian led her into the first floor bathroom and closed the door behind them. Her back was up against the wall and he claimed her lips before she had a chance to say one word. Ian kissed her with such fierceness that she felt as if he totally branded her soul. Whatever she’d planned to say had drifted far from her mind as his tongue masterfully swirled and teased hers. Aria’s hands reached up to his head and her fingers threaded through his hair. She bowed into him as he deepened the kiss. With his warm body covering hers, the taste of him in her mouth, nothing else mattered but this moment.
Ian moaned, then slowly pulled back, gently nipping her bottom lip as he did. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. Mr. Mor—Pop Morel thought it would be nice if I rode with him to pick up Tanner. I did my speed thing and checked the property before I left. No one saw me.” He nuzzled her neck. “You were completely safe.”
Aria closed her eyes as his lips lightly, slowly grazed over her ear, her neck. “Mmmm,” she moaned, half amazed and half embarrassed of the way her body reacted to him. “Last night really did happen then. It wasn’t a dream,” she mumbled to herself.
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly. For me, it was a dream come true.” He kissed his way to her lips as every word he spoke vibrated through her body. “I checked Harland’s page. Everything is fine on the home front.” Another kiss had her shivering and gripping his shoulders. “We had better get back before we’re missed.” He kissed her again, but this time it was short, so sweet.
Her head spun as he led her back to the kitchen. Everything felt so dreamlike: last night, this morning, being with Ian in general.
The family was seated at the table when they entered, but they hadn’t touched any of the food yet. She blindly followed Ian to the seats Pop Morel pointed out to them, unable to focus on anything other than Ian. Aria wasn’t even aware that she was staring at him until he winked at her. Blushing—because…yeah—he set a fire inside her every time he smiled—she lowered her head as Pop Morel prayed over the plentiful meal. Soon after, everyone ate and talked to Ian, who was the center of attention.
“Would you like some coffee, Aria?” Roxanne asked, standing. She held the pot over Aria’s unused mug.
Aria raised her cup, but Pop Morel reached over and placed his hand over it. “No coffee for her,” Pop Morel said, as he raised his cup to be filled.
“I think she can decide on her own if she wants coffee or not.” Mama Morel frowned.
Aria turned to Ian who was lifting a fork full of eggs to his mouth. With his hand and food suspended in air, he met her gaze but as usual, she couldn’t read him. Had he told his grandfather she was pregnant? Her gut churned. What else had he told his grandfather? Poppa Morel gave her and Ian an anxious look from the head of the table where he sat. He clear
ly wanted them to share the news with everyone else.
“I told Poppa Morel the bare basics of our situation and the part”—his hand touched her belly beneath the table—“that involves us both. I felt it was all right to share.”
Okay. She assumed the way he’d emphasized the ‘bare basics’ that meant he didn’t go into what had actually happened to her that night, but had to have insinuated that they had been together for her to be pregnant. Aria thought about how the news would be accepted as she glanced around the table at all the curious looks she got. They were both so young. Her own mother freaked when she’d heard the news, which was weird because her father took it much better. Although, she had told her dad in public and knew that even if he wanted to strangle Ian then, he wouldn’t because he was on the job.
Aria’s heart pounded. What if his family freaked like Ian had?
But she had to say something.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out, as she mentally braced for their judgment. Oh God, did I really just say that?
“Congratulations, sweetie,” Mrs. Morel laughed heartily. “The Lord saw it fit to give us Ian, and now we’re gifted with more good fortune.”
Roxanne bent over and gave Aria a hug. “Congrats, how far along are you?”
“I… I don’t really know,” Aria admitted, fumbling over her words. Alexis frowned at her. “I…we just found out a few days ago.”
Alexis smiled, “Well, don’t worry. We have an excellent OB/GYN here in town. Jennifer is a dear friend. She delivered all of our kids. You’ll love her.”
“Yes.” Roxanne squeezed her shoulders. “I can take you to her office after breakfast if you like. She always has a few openings in the mornings.”
“Oh…okay,” Aria said.
Pop Morel lifted his coffee mug as if toasting her and Ian squeezed her hand under the table. She looked over at him and couldn’t help smiling when she saw his grin. It was going to be okay. Things may just be all right.