“Don’t you need to go inside?” I finally asked as I nervously looked out the window again. I was pretty sure it had gotten late.
“My dad said I could spend the night up here since tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“Oh” was all I could mutter.
We ended up staying in the treehouse until all the lights were out in the surrounding houses. Korrie had a whimsical way of making me temporarily forget the turmoil that waited at our house. It was almost as if she cast a spell. Like the fairies in the coloring pages.
I hated to leave, but I knew we needed to go home.
“You can come back whenever you want,” she said with a yawn. Jasmine and I carefully climbed down.
After sneaking across the golf course, we went in the back door using the key Mom had hidden in the flowerpot.
Heart pounding and worried that we’d get caught, I helped my sister up the stairs. After I got Jasmine into her jammies, then read her a bedtime story in a whisper, I tiptoed to my room.
The next morning, my mom was awake and moving around the kitchen when I shuffled in wearing my Batman slippers. When I yawned, she spun to face me. “Jude!”
Her hand fluttered up to cover her mouth but not before I saw it.
“Mom, what happened to you?” Worried, I rushed over to grab her arm.
“Oh, I, uh, accidentally opened the door right into my face. I was daydreaming and not paying attention.” She gave me a small smile but cringed when it made her lip bleed from the cut.
Not thinking, I reached up to touch it. “Oh, Momma,” I said sorrowfully.
Then the weirdest thing happened. The cut seemed to… erase? The bruising around it seemed to recede like the tide when we’d gone to the ocean but didn’t come back. Same with the bruise on her cheek when my pinky touched it.
Frowning, I pulled my fingertips from her face, looked at them, back to her, then tried not to fall over. Suddenly, I was so sleepy. I wanted to curl up on the kitchen floor to take a nap. It seemed to beckon to me, and as I leaned forward, she caught me.
“Jude! Oh no,” she whispered as she scooped me up and carried me back to my room. Once she laid me down, I yawned loudly before my eyelids were so heavy I couldn’t keep them open.
It seemed like I slept forever that day. I was vaguely aware of my parents talking, but I was too tired to care what they were saying. When I finally woke up, it was dark out.
Brow furrowed, I went downstairs to get a drink.
“Grandpa? Grandma!” My parents were sitting at the table with my grandparents.
“Jude,” my grandfather replied with an easy smile. He was one of my favorite people, and I forgot about the lateness of the hour and how tired I’d been as I rushed to hug him.
“Why are you here? What time is it? How did I sleep so long?” I rattled off questions.
“You must not have gotten over being sick, Jude,” my mother started to say, but my grandmother laid her hand on her arm.
“No, Angeline. He needs to know. If he doesn’t, he won’t know to control himself and he’ll be found out. Can you imagine what that would be like?” My grandmother spoke gently to my mother. In confusion, my gaze darted back and forth.
“I’ll be in the study,” my father gruffly said as he stood. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. I’ll do better.” The last part was said so softly, no one but me seemed to hear it.
“Come sit down.” My grandfather patted the chair my father had vacated.
“But I’m thirsty,” I said. It had only gotten worse since my father left the room.
“I’ll get you a drink,” my mother said with a sigh. “You sit.”
“Your mother tells me you were very sick,” my grandfather began. I nodded as my mom set the glass in front of me. After a big drink, I was much better.
“Can you tell me about what happened when you were sick?” he asked.
“Dad,” my mom pleaded. “He just had the flu.”