she turned aside, primed to run from the kitchen. Losing her balance, she reached out and her hand touched the top of the stove. The odor of burning flesh rose from her fingers and she held her palm against her breasts, tears flowing down her cheeks.
âLet me see,â Lucas said, ashamed now that heâd caused her to be hurt. âI never meant for you to burn yourself, Jen. Let me look at it.â
She shook her head and he took charge, knowing that she was hurting, and her actions were those of a woman frightened by the pain that had almost brought her to her knees.
Seating her on a kitchen chair, he knelt in front of her and held her hand in his, blowing on the skin that was already blistered and puffy. âIâll get some cold water. It should help with the burning,â he told her. âAnd then Iâll get out my motherâshome remedy kit. She had stuff in there for any sort of injury. Iâm sure thereâs something for a burn.â
âButter,â Jennifer croaked. âSpread butter on it.â
âNo, I donât think so,â he told her. âI seem to remember Ma saying that you can get infection that way, no matter that itâs an old remedy.â He stood and found the clean saucepan sheâd used to dip water and filled it half full from the pump. From deep in the ground, the water poured out in a stream that felt like ice to his hands.
To her damaged skin it would surely be almost intolerable, but it would take the burning away, stop the damage to her flesh before it went any deeper. He placed the pan on the table and lifted her hand, lowering it into the water. She stifled a sob and he knelt in front of her again.
âLeave it in the water, Jennifer. I know it hurts, but itâll ease the pain. Now, promise me,â he coaxed, and was rewarded by a quick nod.
He brought the box holding his motherâs salves and potions to the table and opened it wide, allowing Jennifer to look within. âI think this stuff is what she used,â he muttered, lifting a jar from the neat collection. Writing on the label proclaimed it a âburn salveâ and he opened it, revealing a thick, brown, pungent ointment that gave promise of being the proper cure.
He remembered having the stuff applied to his leg once when heâd tarried too long, burning the trash and playing with a stick that glowed with an intense heat. Heat heâd somehow transferred to his own leg by accident. His cries of pain had brought his mother running, and sheâd calmly sat him on the porch and dressed his leg with this same potion, covering it with a thin layer of fabric torn from an old sheet.
Now he addressed the wound in front of him, smearing the ripe-smelling salve on Jenniferâs hand carefully, mindful of the blisters, not wanting to break them. A neat roll of bandage from his motherâs collection came into play as he tore off a strip and folded it, pressing it against her palm, then completed the task by tying strips of the white fabric carefully across her hand.
âThank you,â Jennifer told him, her voice shaking, her eyes still showing evidence of tears. âI didnât mean to be so clumsy. My father would have said it was because I donât think before I sail into action.â
âYou were angry,â Luc told her. âAnd with good reason. Iâm sorrier for that than youâll ever know. It was all my fault, sweetheart.â
âDonât call me that,â she whispered. âIâm not your sweetheart.â
âAh, but you will be,â he said, correcting her assumption. âYouâll be my sweetheart and my wife one day. Just not right now.â
âYou wonâtââ She waved her hand in the general direction of the hallway, where the wide staircase rose to the second floor.
âNo, I wonât,â he told her, the words sour in his mouth. Heâd just promised her that she was safe,
Alexander Key
Patrick Carman
Adrianne Byrd
Piers Anthony
Chelsea M. Cameron
Peyton Fletcher
Will Hobbs
C. S. Harris
Editor
Patricia Watters