by Molly Harper
“I regret not applying myself more in geometry. And most of my fashion choices during my adolescence. But it’s hard to regret something you’ve never had.”
“I was just curious,” he said.
“Well, be curious about something else,” I snapped. I regretted my waspish tone, but I didn’t like being asked these questions by someone I barely knew. And I was getting tired of explaining myself—to the Council, to the courts, to the PTA.
But Finn seemed unaffected. He grinned cheekily. “OK, I’m curious about what you will be doing next weekend, as I would like to take you out to an interesting little spot that serves specialty blood. Perfectly legal specialty donor blood.”
“Next weekend, I have plans,” I told him, thinking of my date with Wade.
“And the weekend after that?”
“I may have other plans,” I said.
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” he asked, dark eyes twinkling.
“You don’t want me to make it easy for you. That wouldn’t be fun for you.”
He moved in fast, giving me an unexpected peck on the lips, which made me take two steps back. He grinned, despite my sudden movement. “See, you already know me so well!”
Several nights later, I stood at the kitchen window, watching the moonlight filter through the tree limbs, painting the elaborate landscaping in the backyard in a silvery wash. I would miss the flowers, come spring. It was a small sacrifice, but I would definitely miss the bright colors of the day. I thought about a poem we’d read in high school about Persephone’s garden and the elaborate, but false, flowers she’d constructed out of gems and precious metals the god of the Underworld gave his lonely, depressed bride to try to keep her happy. I wondered if this was some ancient Greek fable to explain seasonal affective disorder.
Jane had insisted that I attend another Newly Emerged Vampires meeting the night before and she made me sit next to Crybaby Bob, with his decidedly unposh London accent, who ended up crying every time he was asked for an update on the strained relationships with his family.
“I just miss them all so much,” Bob blubbered, slugging down what had to be his fifth bloodyccino since we’d started the meeting. “It’s not fair that they’ve cut me off from the whole family. I’m not allowed to go to Christmas this year, can you believe that?”
Frankly, I was surprised Bob’s family hadn’t set him on fire just to prevent his whining.
Despite Jane’s best efforts, membership in the NEV group was a mixed bag. I was starting to make some friends, but the meetings weren’t a lot of fun. I still didn’t know what my vampire power was, but Jane insisted that was normal. I was, however, learning lots of new tips and tricks for ignoring human food smells, so I could feel like I was more a part of Danny’s dinnertimes. Andrea even gave me a polished egg-sized pink quartz crystal to keep in my palm, so I could picture all of my discomfort and negative energy being absorbed into its milky surface.
And as an added bonus to NEV membership, there were several vampire-owned businesses in town that not only wanted to use my bookkeeping service but were also happy to donate items to the Pumpkin Patch raffle. This was increasingly important, as the deadline was looming and businesses that had supported the event for years had suddenly instituted “budget cuts” when I called.
Somehow I’d cobbled together a network of supportive people—Kerrianne, Jane, Andrea, Miss Steele, Mr. Walsh, Wade. In fact, when Kerrianne wasn’t available, Wade and I had come to depend on each other for babysitting help.
For instance, tonight I was home, watching the kids. Wade was working on a special project at his shop, some custom part for a special-order bike that he wanted to finish in time for the weekend so we could keep our drive-in plans. So I was keeping Harley for dinner and homework time. Wade had promised to take the boys to see some very loud, obnoxious cartoon the next week to even things out.
I was composing a list of excuses for why I couldn’t go to the next NEV meeting—new-fang cramps, Danny had homework, emergency meeting of the Pumpkin Patch committee, Dancing with the Stars marathon—when a large figure emerged from the trees in my backyard. I suppressed a grin, wondering what exotic shape Jed had selected for this evening. Fins? Fur? Fangs?
I stared at the shape lumbering about in the backyard. It would seem that he’d gone with none of the above. In fact, he looked downright human, which was sort of boring. He was a tall human, with a broader build, but still human. I lifted my hand to wave. After a long moment, he waved back.
“This form needs some work,” I muttered.
“Mom, I don’t think Harley feels too good.”
I turned to see Harley and Danny standing behind me. Harley’s cheeks were flushed, and his blue eyes were glassy as marbles, a quick descent from the condition I had found him in when I rose for the evening. Kerrianne had mentioned that Harley had been a little “draggy” when she’d picked the kids up from school. I should have known that was a child-health red flag for impending immune-system meltdown.
Harley sneezed loudly and looked utterly miserable.
“Your shoes are tight,” Danny told him, patting Harley’s matted blond hair.
“I don’t think tight shoes makes you sneeze,” Harley said, sneezing louder, even as I wiped at his dripping nose with a tissue.
“Your shoes are tight again” was Danny’s reply.
“Gesundheit, honey,” I reminded him, laughing. “It’s Gesundheit. It means ‘bless you’ in German. Why don’t you get Harley a juice box from the fridge?”
“That makes more sense,” Danny reasoned, fetching the juice and poking a straw into the box. Harley let loose one final ear-splitting sneeze. I grabbed the digital ear thermometer from the medicine cabinet.
“Bless you in German,” Danny told him.
“No, that’s not—” I shook my head. “Never mind.”
“My head hurts,” Harley said, crossing to the sink and leaning his face against my arm. His forehead was burning up. I didn’t need a thermometer or vampire senses to know that he had a fever.
“Harley, honey, I think we need to get you into a cool bath. Danny, grab my phone off the charger. We need to call Mr. Wade, OK?”
I carried Harley upstairs to the guest bath, running a tub as cool as I thought Harley could tolerate. According to the ear thermometer, his temperature was 102.3, not dangerous but definitely not a symptom to ignore, particularly with his asthma.
I let Harley put a pair of Danny’s swim trunks on, for both our sakes, before he climbed into the tub. His poor little lips were quivering, and his teeth chattered, even though the bathwater was lukewarm. As I dialed Wade’s number, I called to Danny to knock on Miss Nola’s door and explain the situation.
“Hey, baby doll, everythin’ OK?” Wade yelled over the whine of machinery in the background. I set the phone to speaker.
“No. I’m sorry to bother you, but Harley’s not feeling well. He’s got a fever and a runny nose.”
“You put him in a bath yet?”
“I’m in here now, Daddy, and it’s cold!” Harley shouted irritably.
“That usually works, but he’ll fight you like a pissed-off cat,” Wade said.
“Really? He didn’t give me any trouble, other than some pitiful looks.”
Wade harrumphed. “Clearly, he likes you better than me.”
“Clearly.”
Nola, bless her, was there in a flash, medical bag in hand, and took the phone from me so she could ask Wade some questions about Harley’s asthma medication. I kept myself busy mopping Harley’s head with Danny’s Ninja Turtles loofah.
Once Harley’s tooth chattering was reduced to a less castanet-like state, we let him out of the tub and dried him off. Danny had already fetched his favorite Ninja Turtles pajamas, which were about a size and a half too small for Harley, but the poor baby didn’t complain.
“You, sir, have a nice, solid upper-respiratory infection going,” Nola informed him after examining him. “It
’s nothing too serious, but it’s probably a good thing we caught it before it got worse.”
“Am I going to have to take medicine?”
“I’ll call Dr. Hackett and ask him to call something in to the pharmacy,” Nola told me. Harley groaned, and Nola brushed his damp hair back from his forehead. “I’ll make sure they add the bubble-gum flavoring, OK, darlin’? Can Wade pick it up?”
I nodded, and Danny suddenly sneezed, spraying the side of my face with spit and who knew what else. Nola handed me a wet wipe and then curved her hands under Danny’s jaw, feeling his lymph nodes.
“If I didn’t know I was immune to whatever biohazards are on my face right now, I would be really upset,” I told her, wiping at my cheeks. “Nope, I am upset either way.”
“Danny, do you and Harley share everything?” Nola asked, carefully cupping her hands under Danny’s jaw to feel for swelling. “Like your pencils, your hats, maybe your water bottles?”
Danny nodded. “Harley finished his drink before I did at lunch today. It’s nice to share.”
I groaned, dropping my head. “Of course.”
“Well, he should fall victim within a day or so. Lots of fluids for both of them,” Nola told me. “Rest, cartoons, bland soft food. And I will bring by some coloring books tomorrow describing how not to share germs.”
“Too late,” Danny grumbled.
By the time Wade arrived, I could tell that he was already sliding toward infection himself. His symptoms mirrored his son’s to an eerie degree, down to the glassy blue eyes and flushed cheeks. He was congested, and I could feel the slight difference in his body temperature without even touching him. And he looked like he was about to fall over from exhaustion.
Harley and Danny were conked out together in Danny’s room. They’d spent most of the evening on the foldout couch in the living room, dosed up on Tylenol and ginger ale and enough Dexter’s Laboratory to drive me slightly insane. I impressed even myself by hauling both of them upstairs under my arms without breaking a sweat. All mothers should have vampire upper-body strength.
“You don’t look so good,” I told Wade, handing him a can of ginger ale from the fridge.
“I don’t get sick,” he protested, shrugging out of his denim work jacket. “I’ve got the Tucker constitution.”
“Well, I don’t know if you should take Harley home. He’s sick. Danny’s halfway to sick. You’re getting sick. And I can’t get sick. So if you stay here, when you inevitably fall under the germ spell, you’re not left without support.”
“I’m telling you, I don’t get sick,” Wade growled, sprawling back on the foldout couch.
“I’ll remind you of those words in twelve hours when you’re sniffling and whining for juice.” I propped his foot against my thigh and wiggled his work boot loose. His leg dropped like dead weight to the floor as I repeated the process with his other foot.
“I never whine. I’m a Tucker,” he muttered.
I was smiling, even as I rolled my eyes and pulled the sheets up to his chin. “Yep.” I kissed his warm forehead. “You’re a regular badass.”
It didn’t take twelve hours for Wade to sniffle. It took three. But to his credit, he didn’t whine for juice. He politely requested a Budweiser.
“I don’t think beer is the answer,” I told him, dropping two Tylenols into his palm for his five A.M. dose.
“It’s the answer if the question is ‘What’s cold and delicious and makes ya forget that ya feel like your head’s about to explode?’ ”
“Well, it is hard to argue with that logic.”
“I really don’t feel good,” he mumbled, pulling me down to sit so he could drape his arms around my waist and bury his face against my thighs.
I giggled, cupping my hand around his bare neck. “I know.”
“I don’t want you to have to take care of me.”
“I know. And I appreciate that.”
“You’re a really sweet girl, and your hand feels nice on my neck.”
“Thanks. You’re a nice guy.”
He rolled onto his back and sort of sleepily leered up at me, through the dark gold hair that was tossed over his eyes. “And you’re so good to Harley. You treat him just like you treat Danny.”
I pushed the hair back from his face. “He’s easy to love. He’s a good boy. He’s a good friend to Danny.”
“And you’re funny and you’re smart and you call me on my bullshit.” Wade grinned loopily. “And ya have a pretty fantastic rack.”
“There it is,” I scoffed. “How much of that Coldaid stuff did you take?”
He held up two fingers to measure a little bit and then slowly expanded his fingers until they measured a shit ton. He pursed his lips. “You’re right. That’s not a very nice thing to say, is it?”
“Probably not.”
“OK, ya have the greatest rack in the history of racks.”
“Is that much better?”
“Is it the word ‘rack’ that bothers ya?” he asked, squinting at me.
I shook my head, still petting his hair like I was stroking a feverish cat. “I’m not sure.”
“Will ya ignore the ‘rack’ comment and lie down here with me?” he asked, lifting up the blanket. I looked down at his flushed, feverish face. I couldn’t catch his cold. There was no reason not to slide under those blankets. Shaking my head, I crawled onto the couch next to him. He rolled over, slinging a leg over mine and snuggling his face against my chest. “Oh, you feel nice and cool.” He sighed, combing his fingers through my hair. “And ya smell nice. You always smell nice, like those white flowers. The ones that only come out at night?”
“Jasmine?”
“Yeah, jasmine. It’s pretty, and you’re pretty.”
“Thanks.” I chuckled, patting his sweaty head. “I try.”
“And I really like you,” he mumbled into my side. “Like more than a friend or one of them ‘friends with benefits’ things. I like you a lot more than I’ve liked anybody in a long time.”
“That’s really nice to hear, Wade. Because I like you, too.”
“Gonna ask ya to be my girl.”
My eyebrows shot up. “What does that mean, exactly?” I asked.
No response from Wade.
I craned my neck to peer down at him. Wade’s eyes were closed, and his mouth was open in a light snore. “Of course.”
The boys ended up waking for their own doses of Tylenol just before dawn. They crawled onto a pallet I made up on the floor near the foldout couch and went back to sleep. I stayed with them, watching them doze, until the sunlight crept over the horizon. I had to get down to my little basement hidey-hole. I knew I had to go. But I made up reasons to stick around, leaving bottles of water and juice boxes for everyone by the sofa and leaving little Post-it explanations about how to use our remotes.
I watched as Wade rolled over to the far side of the mattress, fumbling around blindly until he found Harley with his hand. He rubbed the space between Harley’s shoulder blades, in a gesture that seemed to comfort him as much as it did his son. And then, absently, he reached over and patted the top of Danny’s head.
I heard the jangle of keys at the front door and jumped up to let Kerrianne into the house. I pressed my fingers to my lips. She nodded and followed me into the living room.
“Welcome to the plague house,” I whispered. “Danny will not be going to school today. Also, you have a few new inmates.”
Wade’s head rose from the pillow, hair all askew and still squinting. “Hi, Kerrianne.”
“Wow. I knew one day I would stumble into your house and find Wade all stupid and disoriented, but I thought it would be under dirtier circumstances.”
“Easy,” I warned her.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of them,” Kerrianne told me. “I’ve got the day shift.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, yawning. “You’re no use to your family if you’re sick, too. This could be the beginning of one of those horrible outbreak movies that
ends in a zombie apocalypse.”
Kerrianne scoffed. “Oh, I’m fine. Unlike Cliché McTough Guy here, I’m smart enough to use hand sanitizer and megadoses of vitamin C. I don’t rely on the Tucker constitution to defend me from germs.”
“Does everybody but me know about the Tucker constitution? Is it on the Internet or something?” I asked.
“Wade may have referred to it a few times. He’s a legend in his own mind.”
Wade shook his head. “That’s not very nice, Kerrianne.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t ogle you if you’re all snotty and gross. You need to think of my needs before you do something dumb like this,” she shot back.
“Oh, come on, you can still ogle him from the neck down,” I chimed in helpfully.
“I’m lyin’ right here, ya know,” Wade grumped.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” I crouched close to him, sitting on the chair near the couch and running my fingers along his cheek. He leaned into the caress like a cat and made a rumbling noise low in his throat. Kerrianne’s eyebrows rose at the sight, but she said nothing.
“Better. Not awesome. But better,” he said. “And I don’t remember a good portion of last night, so I’m hopin’ you’ll have the decency not to post any incriminatin’ videos on YouTube.”
“Just for my private collection, then. Got it.”
“Very funny,” he said, weakly batting at me with his hands. “How are the boys?”
“They’ve been napping for a while,” I said, nodding toward their motionless forms. “You should probably get them up for some juice and meds in an hour or so. But for now, just enjoy the peace and quiet. Danny’s a bit of a whiner when he doesn’t feel well.”
“Yeah, pretty soon Harley is going to want his own pajamas, his own toys, that sort of thing,” Wade said, patting his son’s head.
It struck me that Harley and Wade would be going home soon, maybe even tonight. And that made me sad. I liked having them here in the house. It felt more like a home when Danny had other humans around, other people who needed to eat and could go out during the day. I felt more secure with Wade there, and . . . it just felt better. I’d looked forward to rising for the evening, knowing that he and the boys would be waiting upstairs. And the fact that I was desperately attracted to Wade, well, that didn’t hurt.
