“I know, baby.”
Sounds again of water, but this free-flowing, smelling so beautifully clean—and you might argue if you’d never experienced it, but you should, oh God you should—water could smell clean and that was what I wanted. More than anything. I wanted to be clean and warm and smell just like that.
I found myself draped over something, two somethings, straight and firm underneath my bottom, bare as the day I was born. Bare as the first day I’d met Bones. I’d always been going to thank him, because I never did, for being the man he was, but my thoughts were derailed when the pain started. Pounding into every inch of skin, a cold so brutal, a cold that bit deep, draining any thoughts from my head, washing them down an ever-tightening drain.
My voice closed off, only squeaks sounding from my chest as I fought. And fought. Until exhausted, until I couldn’t lift even my eyelids anymore. I fought. And I failed.
“Help her. Dios, she is so hot. I have never seen someone so fevered.”
No, I’m not. I’m cold, I thought, and that thought was cranky in a way that took energy, and that, along with failing, were the last things I knew for a time.
For a reason
Mason
Mason watched Myron grumping around the clubhouse office and grinned. My bean counter got his ass handed to him. Not physically, because even if he was slight, Myron was wiry and tougher than folks gave him credit for. No, Myron had taken a hit tonight that Mason didn’t understand, and needed to. The way the man had paled when Bones laid his woman on the backseat of Myron’s cage didn’t say uninvolved observer.
Over the past several months, Myron had been wrapped up in finding out anything he could about this woman, Ester. More than once he’d expressed irritation when pulled away from his personal investigation to handle club business, which wasn’t like Myron at all. Mason knew Myron believed Mason and the club saved him, pulling him from the world of homelessness and an aimless life. Dragging him into a place where his particular intellectual quirks could be not only put into play, but where he could be challenged and pushed every day, something that mattered to Myron.
This woman, Ester, she meant something to him. Mason had given Myron space when he’d asked for it, telling Mason that he was just curious. But today put the lie to that in a big way. His desperation to find her hadn’t been hidden behind any kind of deflection, and the bald need Myron exposed was intense and deep.
Leaning back in his seat, he was surprised when Myron flung himself onto the couch near the door, tipping his head back and looking at Mason through slitted eyes. “She’s my sister.” Slowly lowering his feet to the floor, Mason locked his eyes on Myron, trying to keep the disbelief off his face. “I remember things, a few things. From before.” Mason nodded, not understanding, but wanting to keep Myron talking.
Myron’s story was out in the open in the club, sad but one that was heard all too often from kids who wound up in the system, or as Myron had, homeless. Mom and dad dead, no family to take responsibility, fucking asshole of a foster father who was only in it for the cash, which led to a too-young and too-frail boy taking to the streets. That boy pushed into unwanted things to survive, still expecting more from himself. This was one of the things that drew Mason to him the first time he spotted Myron. Clothes and shoes far tidier than expected in a homeless shelter, but the boy underneath the façade more fragile than anyone could believe.
“Mom had a different husband. My dad was his brother. They’d had a long-term affair, and she’d gotten pregnant and had me, but because she was married, I think she just expected things to play out like nothing happened. I remember the day we left, because my dad…the man I thought was my dad…pushed her out the door and closed it. Not mean. Just…firm. I was already on the porch beside the suitcases he’d set there. Told me to wait. He kicked us out. Ester was about two years old, best I can figure. We went to my uncle’s house, I didn’t know he was my dad then, and he took us in. A couple of years later they were dead, and I was in the system.” Myron pulled in a shaky breath. “I didn’t really remember Ester. I remembered the idea of a family, Mom singing while she bent over a crib, my dad…the man I thought was my dad standing next to her. Always thought it was just wishful thinking. Something a kid like me would want, having never had. Then, Bones found her, and I saw a picture…” Another shaky breath. “My mom. I thought for a minute it was my mom. Thought all the reports and everything I knew was wrong. She looks just like…” A hesitation, then Myron finished, “…our mom.”
More than matters
Bones
Thin, so thin. The fever had burned away any reserves Ester had. Bones held her in his lap, cradled to his torso, letting the warm water rain down on them both. Pockets empty, he was in jeans, Ester held to him, covered with a large towel to help capture the water. Noise from the hallway, then a voice in the bathroom and he looked up to see Red staring at them from the doorway.
He hated the idea of this man’s hands on Ester, but Bones knew she couldn’t go on like this. In the hour they’d been in the tub, her wracking shudders had only gotten worse. Her attempts to get away from the water had been heartbreaking, because kittens had more strength. Pushing and shoving with only the barest of pressure, it still seemed to fully exhaust her.
Eyes to Red’s face, Bones pleaded, “Help her. Dios, she is so hot. I have never seen someone so fevered.”
“She coughing?” Red knelt, and as Bones nodded, he saw Red digging through a box resting on the floor at his feet. “Spitting up anything?”
“Not that I have seen. Just coughing like to tear her in half.” He addressed the thing that made him most fearful. “But she is so hot, Red. Burning up with the fever. Even the water has not helped, she seems no better.”
“Let’s get her out of there.” Red reached out, twisting the faucet handles and the water cut off. Once the noise was gone Bones heard Ester’s teeth chattering, muscles moving in uncontrolled motions. “Hand her up.”
Bones’ arms tightened reflexively, even as he worked through the reasoning behind the request. Safer, that was the word he settled on, because if he fell trying to rise with her in his arms, she could be injured. The tub was slippery with water, and a misstep could prove disastrous. “You will take no liberties.” Even as the words cleared his mouth, he knew it was a ridiculous statement. He scowled, staring down. “Of course you will not, Red. I am sorry. I find myself off-balance.”
“No worries, Bones. I get it. She’s fragile right now, and trusting her with someone isn’t easy. You know me, though.” Red’s words and tone were patient as he squatted alongside the tub. “You know I would never take advantage like that. Plus, she’s yours, man. You’d fuckin’ kill me.”
“I would,” Bones readily agreed, looking up and lifting her so Red could more easily accept her weight. “I would kill you. It is good you recognize this.” Standing now, Bones quickly stripped off the soaked jeans, roughly toweling himself before grabbing another towel. With a glare at Red, he removed the wet one covering Ester, and wrapped the dry fabric around her naked form, taking her back from Red, uncaring of his own nudity. The entire activity took only about two minutes, and she was back in his arms. “My room is best. That is where she will be staying.”
“Lead the way,” Red said, bending to pick up his kit. “Need to get fluids in her. Flu’s making the rounds, but just from listening to her breathe, I’m pretty sure she’s got pneumonia. She’s noisy and rattlin’, full of bad stuff. We’ll get her flat, let me check her out.” Trailing him into the bedroom, Red stepped past where Bones stood and flicked back the bed coverings.
Three hours later her fever had fallen to manageable levels, and Red had succeeded in running two liters of fluid through an IV he’d started in the back of her hand. Not easily, because she was so dehydrated, he had to hunt for a vein and then baby it for the first hour. Adding an antibiotic cocktail to the mix, Red had stayed right beside her the whole time, anxious because Bones could tell him nothing abou
t her medical history. “Small percentage of the population have allergies,” he’d responded tersely when Bones asked what was worrisome. His words then had Bones worried, watching every breath, making certain her next one came just as easy.
At least the shuddering shivers had stopped, and instead of being shiny and dry, her skin was again slightly clammy with sweat. Her breathing, which had sounded horrifyingly wet and labored when Bones had found her under the overpass, was better, maybe even edging towards normal.
“Don’t get me wrong, she’s still very sick, but she’s already responding to what we’re doing, Bones. We keep this up, and as long as there aren’t any unexpected setbacks, she’ll be okay. Not outta the woods, but better.” Red folded a stethoscope in his hand, leaning against the headboard on one side of Ester. Bones took up the other side, hand resting on her chest, covering the spot where Red had touched her to listen to her heart.
“The first time I met Ester, she was saving someone.” Bones didn’t know he was about to speak until the words fell from his mouth. Once breached, the dam seemed to give way completely, and he found himself explaining. “A prostitute had stolen a trick’s wallet, and he took offense. Ester was there and intervened. He took offense at that, too. So, in turn, I intervened.”
He flattened his palm against her chest, between her breasts, feeling the strong pounding under his touch. Faster than seemed normal, but so much stronger than before. Reassuring himself, he left his hand in place. “I was in Hawk’s territory. Deep. Skeptics were supposed to have a sit-down with him and his crew, but they did not show, and I sent my boys on their way. I was hungry and had seen a deli around the corner, so I cut them loose. Stupid. Hawk and his Dominos knew I was there. Them not showing was a deliberate slight, so, of course, they were watching to witness my reaction.” One fingertip moved, drawing the shape of a cartoon heart on her chest. Slowly he eased his hand up, spreading his fingers across her frail-looking collarbones. Heart still beating steadily, sleeping deeply in his bed, she turned her head towards him and sighed, her cracked lips pursing. This is where I’ve wanted her to be for so long.
“She saved me a beating. Showed me a ladder that led to the rooftop. She was not afraid of me, Red. Never once has she been afraid of me.” He swept his thumb across her throat, pressing to feel her pulse before sliding his hand up to her jaw, thumb sweeping across there, too. “Never once have I seen fear in her eyes.” He swallowed, throat suddenly thick. “Priceless and rare.” Gaze fixed on her face, he watched the bare twitching behind her lids, her sight fixed inwardly in a dream he prayed was sweet.
“She deserves anything I can give her, but she does not want things. She wants me. I tried to bring her home with me more than once, and she ran. I think she was fearful of the change, the place. Maybe it was the possibility of having something she wanted that so terrified her. She punished herself for even considering it. She does not fear me, but the level of terror she feels at having things out of her control…that says so many things. Myron has assisted me, found me some of the monsters in her past, and I have dealt with them. Dealt with them for things she has survived. And I nearly lost her because I respected her fear. Almost lost her to the fucking flu, Red. When there are so many things out there that threaten her every single day, so much danger and how she lives, she is right in the midst of it. Every day. And the flu nearly took her from me.
He glanced up to see Red’s eyes on him. “You see through what she is to what she could be, yes?” Red nodded. “You understand why I needed her here?” Red nodded again, eyes never leaving Bones’. “I will keep her safe, even if that means keeping her safe against her own fears. You understand what I'm saying?” Red opened his mouth, about to speak but Bones cut him off. “No, do you understand? Yes, or no?”
“Yeah, brother, I get it, but you can’t kidnap her. You can’t…if she’s as fragile as you say, it could be the thing that severs her from reality, man.” Red’s head swung back and forth. “She more than matters to you, and I get it, I see it. I believe you when you say you’d do anything to keep her safe. Just—” He paused a moment, then continued, “—don’t make what you have to save her from be you.”
Close to hand
Ester
When I woke again, the light was gone. The cold was gone, and my muscles could have wept with joy. Back to the unbelievable soft underneath me, around me, except along my backside, where there was a giving heated hardness. A fiery firmness heretofore unknown in my existence. Testing things, I took a breath, and there was tightness, but no pain. The firmness stirred, and close-fitting iron bands already wrapped around my shoulders and belly constricted. In a voice filled with quiet and peace, Bones said, “You are awake, finally. How do you fare, little one?”
Bones.
I froze, as stuck in place as anything in the history of ever, stuck and staying right there in the moment when I knew it was Bones who lay beside me, giving me warmth from his own body, caring enough to ask me how I was. Even the nurses at the hospital hadn’t asked. Never asked, they’d only assumed, taking their own wishes into account. They’d told me what to believe, and promised things that never happened. “You’ll feel better,” they said. “You look better every day,” they told me. Lies from their lips to the ears of the angels who didn’t care, uncaring still. My angel, however, demanded a response, repeating his question with the slightest of variations, adding a demand into the mix, and one that got my mouth working without my consent, as it was often inclined to do with him. “Ester, tell me how you feel.”
“I was sick.” More a statement than a question, it was still interrogatory in nature, and he read that, as he always read everything about me.
“Yes, you were very sick.” I moved my head, nodding, feeling my cheek skim and rub against a velvet stretched over steel that felt amazing. Hot and smooth, a heating source of unknown origin. “How long were you ill, Ester?”
I sighed then, and the breath stretched my lungs and ribs in a way that felt so good, I did it again, pulling in a huge chest full of air that released all at once, triggering a coughing fit that woke the pain. Once it had passed, I confirmed what he likely already knew. “Ow.”
“Yes, ow.” He agreed, and I wanted to see his face because I could hear the smile he wore. I could feel the smile in the room, the air somehow lighter now, less thick, less smothering. Because he was amused. I liked that. “Do you know when you became sick, baby?”
That gift again, and it meant so much to me for him to give me that. First a sweet phrase, then my name—my name, making me real in that moment yet again—and then the word I wanted more than anything in the world. Baby. Bones’ moon. “No.” I sighed again, this time less largely, smaller, more controlled. “I wasn’t, and then I was.”
“It came on fast, then?” The surface underneath me stirred, a ponderous ship giving way to passengers. The steel under my cheek flexed, moved, and I felt his fingers skimming my face, shifting my hair out of the way so he could trace the long edge of my nose. I nodded. “Are you feeling better now?” I nodded again. As long as he was touching me, I was better even if I wasn’t. I’d be better forever. “Red said it likely was influenza, but he thinks you also had pneumonia, Ester. Very, very bad. You’ve been here for nearly three days.”
That was my daily dose of real, coming in fast, roosting on my shoulders, bearing down. “Three days?” It was too much to hope he’d made a mistake, but hope I did.
“Yes, baby. And while I do not know for certain when you became ill, I do know I had not seen you for a week. You have gotten so thin.” His finger traced along my cheekbone. “Too thin. And I fear to think what could have happened if I had not looked for you.”
“You found me.” Evidence pointed to it being a clear truth, so I decided to talk about one of the things I feared. “My place.” Something I didn’t want him to know about me, even if he knew it already. Seeing where I stayed would be like painting a picture of destitution onto the face he liked to see. Hiding and co
vering the me he let me be when I was with him, because now there was a different definition instead of the me he wanted to see.
Maybe that was what he wanted, enjoyed that feeling of helping. Like the beskirted ladies who piled out of the church van, one hand on the Bible, the other offering food in exchange for a little time. Needing a cause to make them happier about their own lives. Putting a questioning tone in my voice, I asked for the answer I feared most. “My things?”
“I will replace whatever is needed, Ester.” His words only just preceded the wave of hopelessness and sorrow, a wretched tsunami of grief and loss I tried desperately to hide.
Gone. Picked over and gone. Hands sorting through the few things that mattered to me, things kept in the pockets which came in the coat, new pockets I created with needle and thread pilfered from a shelter, clever pockets folded into the seams and extra material. A pretty necklace with a fancy letter the court lady gave me. An eah, to match my Eah-est-her. Rhinestone missing now. Unworn forever, skin gone green under the chain long faded back to peach. Clasp broken one night by a man who found himself wanting and me not giving. Still mine.
The wrist band from the hospital that proved I was a person. I had a name, an initial, a blood type, and a birthday. February seven.
The scarf. Oh, the scarf that whispered secrets to me, promising that when Bones looked at me, he saw beauty woven into the cracked fabric that was me. I choked down a sob, hating the weakness that allowed even a scrap of it to flee from my lips.
The coat. The everything that was the kindest present anyone had given me, and it traced back to and through every other thing he had given me. The coat that was just right, and I kept it that way, mending hems as they unraveled. Raveling them back together, fixing even the tiniest thread snagged by a shrub as I followed a rabbit into the woods just to watch it dig and nibble and dart into a hole, safe and sound where it found itself a place to hide. Everyone needed a place that was safe, and for me, the coat represented all the safety I would ever need. Gone.
Bones (Rebel Wayfarers MC Book 10) Page 14
