Treasured

20)

Sal's P. O. V.

I wasn't always the bravest of people, but I was compassionate to a fault. I suppose that's why I didn't hesitate to act when I heard whimpers and stifled sobs originating from Wren's room.

It was dark and the rain was falling in torrents outside, the wind lashing at the trees, and great cracks of thunder splitting the night. Flashes of lightning aided me as I crept into his room.

"Wren?" I softly called, hearing the cries grow louder.

Instantly the sounds quieted until I could barely hear them through the storm. I carefully pushed the door open, surprised to see him shaking on the floor, his fist stuffed in his mouth. My heart shattered at my feet as his eyes met my own, bloodshot and overflowing with tears.

"Wren, precious," I frowned, hastily setting the candle on his night table and snatching his robe off the chair by the bed. "What is it?"

I wrapped him in the cloth, gently rubbing his arms to generate a little warmth. His fragile arms carefully curled into my shirt, as his head rested on my shoulder. Tears dripped against my skin, but I paid no mind to it - my concerns were with the boy who had cause to cry in the first place.

"It is alright, Wren. You are safe here," I assured him.

His sobs rose in volume, as I tried to comfort him. I did everything I knew - rocking him, kissing his hair, rubbing his back, murmuring soft assurances - but nothing seemed to work.

Eventually he wore himself out, hiccuping and sniffling in his sleep. I wasn't the biggest person, but Wren was positively tiny, and I easily lifted him from the floor to his bed, careful not to wake him. My gaze fell to his nightgown, as it rode up a bit, and consequently fell on his legs.

I couldn't quite catch the surprised gasp that left my mouth at the sight of his damaged limb. The skin was pitted and many different shades. Some of the skin was a yellowish white which contrasted with the grey, black, or red parts. Muscles and tendons could be seen because the skin was so thin and stretched.

I felt my stomach flip as I saw how crooked his leg seemed. The bone hadn't set right, but I could see why the doctor would be hesitant to break it again.

My hands trembled as I tugged his nightshift down over his mangled leg, tucking the blankets over him immediately after to prevent him from catching his death from cold. I stared at his pale face before hesitantly leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to his cheek.

~

The next morning was like any other besides the fact that my head drifted elsewhere. I nearly burned the porridge I made for breakfast, and school wasn't happening at all. I couldn't pay attention to anything at all.

Wren's leg just kept popping up in my brain. How much pain was normal for him? Was it a factor in his eating habits? Did his dependence bother him?

LaSalle, please come here," Mr. Price sighed heavily from his desk at the front of our school room.

I felt a blush travel up my cheeks as I left my books in response. I knew I was supposed to be concentrating on the Ancient Greeks, but I honestly couldn't stop myself from my inner musings.

"Are you alright?" Edward inquired, a worried frown creeping over his face. "Are you ill?"

"No sir," I shook my head. "But...I just...I had a thought for Wren, and I'm trying to work it out. I know I should be studying, but my mind keeps straying."

"I see. Come with me for a moment," Edward said after staring at me for a few seconds.

I followed him to the library where he began selecting a few books.

"Tell me what you want to do for Wren," Mr. Edward prompted me.

"Well, sir, I was thinking we could get him a little rolling chair for the days he is hurting quite badly. And I was also wondering if he couldn't be moved downstairs. I'm sure traveling up and down the stairs pains him a great deal. This way he wouldn't need to be upstairs unless he felt like it."

"Well, I suppose it's very fortunate I already talked to Dr. Farre about ordering such a thing," Edward smiled.

My heart leaped in my chest as I realized that Mr. Price was already working behind the scenes to make life easier for Wren. Edward was a very caring man, although he had to distance himself from us to a certain extent. But it was boundlessly clear that once our studies were completed he would gladly let us stay with him like June and Fletcher had.

"But I think moving him down here would be better as well. I just don't want him to be alone if he needs help," Mr. Edward thought aloud.

"Well, sir, you live down here," I shrugged. "If he needed something you are more than equipped to deal with it."

"His music will need to be moved down here as well. I don't want to deprive him of something he loves just because he can't get up the stairs," Edward continued. "I suppose Fletcher and June can help me during tutoring."

Once we had retrieved the books, we returned to the classroom. This time my mind was tranquil and I easily completed my tasks.

~

I stepped into the garden, carefully taking a few vegetables when someone grabbed me from behind, hoisting me into the air. Laughter bubbled out of me as Cedar tickled my sides, lightly slapping my rear in playfulness.

"Put me down, you ruffian!" I demanded, holding the basket tightly in one hand.

"I'm quite enjoying myself though!" Cedar giggled, sprinting toward the door.

Once inside, he put me on my feet, pushing me against the doorframe. His hands captured my face, lips pressing against mine in a teasing, lighthearted manner. One of his legs slipped between mine, and his arms caged me in. I felt small and floaty like that, watching as his eyes lit up with affection.

"I love you, Sal," He whispered.

"I love you too, CeeCee."

He slipped his fingers through my own tugging me toward the happy bustle of the kitchen. Branson was making shepherds pie, June was making some rolls, Fletcher was sorting through some berries with Wren, and Orion was setting the table.

Wren looked cute perched on the counter like normal, hands flying through the bucket of berries we had picked the other day. Everyone had noticed that he would eat berries and cream twice as fast as any other food, and so we had gotten into the habit of having it at least once a day.

Fletcher snagged my arm as I passed by, asking a question that made me smile.

"Would you help me make some berry tarts for tea?"

"Of course, Fletcher! That's a splendid idea."

I loved baking and cooking so much! I felt relaxed when I was creating something delicious to feed my men. I loved seeing their faces light up as they tasted my food, I loved making meals interesting and nice instead of them dreading it.

The kitchen was my happy place, and I was never quite as joyful as when all my favorite people joined me in my sanctuary. The laughter and smiles that filled the room and the scent of freshly made food combined with that overwhelming sensation of being loved...

That is what I wanted.

And my boys made sure I got it every single time.

1,287 words.