Fire in the Woods Preview

Chapter 5

Beneath the overhang, I fussed with my keys and pushed the door open. With some finagling I dragged his trembling form inside and into the family room, where he collapsed on the couch.

"Stay here." Like he was getting up anytime soon. "I'll get some blankets."

I sprinted up the stairs, leaving muddy footprints on the carpet. Yeah, that wasn't going to get me in trouble or anything. I threw open the linen closet.

"Okay Dad, it's like this," I whispered to myself. "I know I wasn't supposed to talk to strangers, but he was really cute so I figured it was okay ... then he got sick. I couldn't just leave him out there."

Yeah, that'll work. You are in deep dog-poop, Jess.

I threw two towels over my shoulders and grabbed a stack of spare blankets before padding down the stairs. Drying David's clothing proved fruitless, but at least his hair wasn't dripping anymore. Dad had left his gray sweatshirt hanging on the back of a chair. I peeled David's wet tee-shirt from his back, trying to be careful of his injured shoulder, and pulled the warm fleece over his head.

Still stricken with the chill, David rolled himself into a ball. I unfolded the blankets with a flourish and swaddled him in pink and yellow fuzz.

"Okay. If that doesn't warm you up, nothing will."

I admired my domestic-ness until the covers began to quake again. He had to have a fever. I cranked the thermostat up from seventy degrees to seventy-five.

"David, I'm going to get a thermometer."

Chattering teeth answered me.

Just call an ambulance, Jess.

No. No ambulance. He'd been clear on that. No hospitals. Until I found out what was going on, I needed to keep that promise.

I walked right by the telephone to the bathroom and grabbed the thermometer from underneath the toothpaste in the medicine cabinet.

Closing the door, I cringed at my reflection. Yesterday's eyeliner oozed down to my cheek. My bangs hung wet, lifeless, and clinging to my forehead. Lovely. I ran a fingertip under each eye, alleviating most of the raccoon syndrome. Who was I kidding? I'd never win a beauty pageant anyway.

I uncapped the thermometer as I returned to David. He groaned. His chill rattled the coils in the couch.

"David, I'm going to stick a thermometer under your tongue." I had no idea if he could hear me over his shivering.

After pressing the button to clear the digital readout, I pried his mouth open to slide the prong between his lips. His hand clutched the edge of the blanket. His fist shook against his chest.

"Come on David. Snap out of it."

His eyes squeezed shut. His mouth formed a pained, straight line.

"It'll be okay." A puff of air blew out of my lips. Saying the words didn't help me to believe them. What if I was wrong? What if he really needed a doctor? What if he died?

I touched the chain on my neck, twirling the links around my fingers. The phone sat on the end table. One call to 911 would bring an ambulance, which was what he really needed. I reached for the phone and sighed. He seemed petrified of the hospital. But was it right to let him die just because he was afraid?

The clock on the wall ticked, filling the room with its cadence. David's teeth rattled against the plastic tube in his mouth. What was taking that thermometer so darn long to beep?