Firefly by Linda Hilton Read Free Book Online

everything I can to make it hurt as little as possible.  How about if I promise some strawberry ice cream afterwards?  Or do you like chocolate better?"
    "Chocolate," Willy replied.  "Julie likes strawberry."
    * * *
    It took longer than any of them anticipated, thanks in part to Wilhelm's frequent interruptions and in another part to a fishhook that had to be cut out.  That meant more bleeding and two extra stitches, none of which Willy took with much fortitude.  Julie held his hand and let him give vent to all his pain, while Morgan waited patiently, his own brow as sweaty as the boy's and his face almost as white under its unshaven tan.
    No one noticed when Horace Opper left.  Wilhelm, despite repeated orders, did not leave the parlor any longer than was necessary to escort his wife to her room and pour her a glass of sherry.  He stood in the archway between parlor and dining room, arms folded across his barrel chest, blue eyes trained coldly on the man and woman and boy.  Julie shivered more than once when she caught that icy stare, but Morgan never turned away from his task.
    The black sutures wandered almost two inches from the inner edge of the eyebrow upward in a drunken diagonal. There'd be a scar, no doubt about it, but at least the fishhook was out, the bleeding was stopped.
    Julie began to pick up the damp, bloodied towels and cloths that littered the floor.  It gave her something to do while she thanked Morgan.
    "I greatly appreciate your coming here this afternoon. I know you didn't want to, but I'm glad you did," she whispered.
    "Yeah, well, you're welcome," he stammered in a similarly quiet voice.  He recalled the way he had left her last week, demanding that exorbitant fee.  She probably expected him to ask three or four times that much now that he had actually done something.  "Uh, I think I'd better be going, Miss Hollstrom.  He'll be all right now.  The stitches might draw and itch in a few days.  See if you can keep him from pulling them out for a week or so and then just let Horace remove them.  I think he can handle that."
    He couldn't remember making a speech that long in years and quickly bit his lip to keep from blabbing even more. Besides, now that the job was done, all the quivery queerness returned to his stomach.  If he was going to lose its contents, he'd rather do it at the Castle or at home, not in front of the girl who had for some strange reason trusted him.
    "I must owe you something for what you did here today," she said.  "I can't pay you right now, but I'll try to get you something as soon as I can."
    Oh, God, the nausea was worse now that he was on his feet.
    "Let Willy sleep as long as he wants; it's the best thing for him.  I'll, uh, I'll stop by tomorrow and get him that ice cream."
    Without another word, he turned and bolted for the door, pushing Wilhelm out of his way and slamming the door back on its hinges in his flight.
    He made it to the stairs before the first convulsion hit him.  He controlled it only long enough to charge down the stairs and then lose his balance.  The sunlight and the heat and the frayed ends of all his nerves combined to topple him in the dust as the bitter taste flooded upward.
    There was dust in his nostrils, and the bright red and white of flowers danced in front of his dizzy eyes.  His whole body curled fetally as his stomach emptied itself on the ground.  The red and white petunias turned to blood-stained petticoats in the tormented vision of his memory.

Chapter Four
     
    The nightmare lingered even after he was certain he had wakened.  There was light on the other side of his mattered eyelids, and he thought he smelled bacon frying.  But the aroma brought back the nausea and that was part of the nightmare, so he couldn't be truly sure of anything.
    Had he slept, or had he just been unconscious all that time?  He didn't know.  Vaguely he was aware that he lay on something hard and relatively smooth, just as he vaguely