“I wouldn’t advise that,” Rick cut in quickly. “You need to keep that area very clean in case of infection. Best just to take a few pictures.”
“Yeah, okay. Perhaps you’re right, my parents would kill me if I got an inking...” Simon frowned, as if he was trying to recall something. “Pictures... I was getting some pictures... The thunder snow. Did they find my camera?”
“I don’t know. We brought everything back with us, it’s probably with your jacket. I’ll check.” Fleur got to her feet.
“Yeah, please... I really hope that didn’t get zapped too.”
* * *
Fleur had found Simon’s camera, and by some miracle it was still working. A video of the thunder snow had survived, along with another that ended with a disconcerting lurch as the camera fell to the ground, followed by a six-minute recording of the heel of Simon’s motionless boot as he lay in the snow. Simon seemed just as pleased with the second video as he was with the first, and then his elation gave way to drowsiness again, and he fell asleep.
“He doesn’t remember everything.” Fleur finally let go of Simon’s hand and stepped away from him. Rick had been worried about her, but it didn’t come as any surprise to find that she was strong enough to deal with this.
“No, that’s to be expected. Most people don’t.”
“But he’s going to be all right?”
“As far as I can tell. Some lightning-strike victims report headaches and other post-trauma symptoms, but those aren’t universal. It looks as if it wasn’t a direct strike, the lightning probably hit the tree and jumped from there.”
“He’s been so lucky. Getting hit by lightning and then falling out of a tree—either of those things could have killed him. And if D
ad and the others hadn’t found him in time, he could have died from exposure on a night like this.”
Rick allowed his fingers to trail across the back of her hand. “Hey, don’t think about what could have happened to him. He’s okay. Think about that instead.”
She nodded, seeming suddenly weary. She’d done all she could and it was time for her to take a step back now.
“Why don’t you go up to my office? There’s a sofa bed and you can take that for the night. I’ll take Simon to the ward and have him admitted and give the nursery nurse a call to check on Ellie, then I’ll bring you a hot drink.” Rick took his keys from his pocket, separating the one for his office door from the bunch and giving it to her.
“Where is Ellie? In the daycare center?”
“No, she’s at home. When we work nights, the nurse comes and stays at our homes, so the children can sleep in their own beds.”
“That’s nice. Although it means you can’t go and give her a hug.” Fleur’s wistful tone gave Rick the impression that she might just have gone with him, and done what he wanted to do now. Kissed his sleeping child, to remind himself that everything was all right.
Rick leaned forward, whispering in her ear, “I’ll hug you instead. I won’t be long.” He wanted to hold her, and calm the fears she’d faced tonight. Stop her from falling.
“That sounds like something to look forward to.” Fleur grinned at him, picking up the crystal from beside the examination couch, where Rick had put it for safekeeping. “I know this isn’t the kind of treatment you’d regularly prescribe...”
He put his finger to her lips and took the crystal. “I don’t have all the answers. If this makes Simon feel better, I’m not going to argue about why.”
Tonight had been full of things that defied any logic. How Simon had survived a trio of potentially lethal accidents. How Fleur had forgiven Rick for interfering in her life and taken him back, making him feel whole again. But he wasn’t going to question any of it.
* * *
Touring with the theater company had meant that Fleur had made hundreds of hotel rooms her home for the night. Her alarm clock on the nightstand, together with the photograph of her mom and dad, and the brush and comb her grandmother had given her when she was little, had been enough to make her feel at home wherever she was.
She had none of those small, personal items here, but there was something of Rick. A pot of pens and pencils sat on his desk, each one bearing the name of a different museum or gallery in London. A picture of Ellie, in an old-fashioned frame that looked as if it too had some sentimental significance. Fleur pulled the sofa bed open, smoothing the sheets and pillowcases. When she switched off the overhead light, in favor of the softer glow of the desk lamp, the office seemed as if it could be a good home for the night.
A tap sounded at the door and she opened it, to find him holding two mugs of hot chocolate. She motioned him inside, and he sat down next to her on the bed.
“Is Simon okay?”
“Yes, he’s up in the ward now, sleeping.” Rick put his arm around her shoulders. “What you did this evening cost you, didn’t it?”
“You question that?”
Rick kissed her forehead. “No, I respect it. But I think you should get some rest now.”