Chapter Twenty-Four
Recovering
Oliver stood by the front door, waiting for Gwen to come down and fighting the urge to shake out his hands and pace. They wouldn’t be gone long, but— His gaze slid in the direction of the parlor. Checking on Felipe one more time before they left couldn’t hurt. In the ten minutes since he last checked on him, Felipe hadn’t moved from his spot on the sofa, except now, he was snoring softly against a stack of pillows. Oliver wasn’t sure what he had expected to find, but him sleeping wasn’t it. He had half expected Felipe to whip his arm out of the sling and start practicing his knife throwing the moment he left. Felipe sleeping was preferable, if not a little worrying. Then again, neither he nor Felipe had gotten a decent night’s sleep.
As soon as he had gotten Felipe dressed, Oliver had pressed the last of his jerky and cheese supply on him and tried to send him to bed, but Felipe had eaten and stubbornly waited in the kitchen as Oliver scrubbed it down, cleaned his tools, and put everything away. By then, it was late enough that they could hear people coming to check if the road had opened. It hadn’t. When they finally got to bed, Oliver had stacked their pillows, so Felipe’s arm was properly supported, which meant he had to sleep nearly upright. Oliver had awoken at every stifled wince or huff of annoyance until Felipe finally fell into a fitful sleep.
After dozing until an unseemly hour, Mr. Allen had awoken them with the promise of a very belated breakfast of coffee, toast, eggs, and bacon. While Oliver would have happily spent the whole day in bed recovering from the previous night’s chaos, Felipe needed to eat, so he forced himself to shave and dress. Felipe had refused, claiming that he was allowed to “look like shit” if he had to wear the sling and stay inside. Oliver thought he just didn’t want someone else holding a razor to his throat, not that he could blame him. At breakfast, Oliver had slipped his bacon onto Felipe’s plate, and by the end of the meal, he looked less like death warmed over. His hand still shook and the dark circles remained, but when Oliver had taken a peek at his collarbone, the bruise around it had already gone from red to deep purple with hints of green. Depending on how everything else healed, he might only need a day or two in the sling. The stitches would need to wait until he could visit the pharmacy.
Quietly crossing the room, Oliver picked up the book that had fallen from Felipe’s lap and landed upside down on the floor at his feet. A sphinx stared up at him as he closed The Time Machine and set it on the sofa beside him. As Oliver watched Felipe’s chest rise and fall in a sleepy rhythm, a small smile curled his lips. He wasn’t accustomed to seeing Felipe with so much facial hair. After a day’s worth of growth, he looked rakish, and Oliver had to resist the urge to run his palm across his cheek for fear it might wake him.
“Ol, are you ready?” Gwen asked softly from the doorway.
“Almost.” Pulling the horse quilt off the back of the armchair, Oliver draped it over Felipe and kissed his forehead. His skin was warm with sleep but not fever. He would be fine with a few hours of rest. “Now, I am.”
Drawing in a centering breath, Oliver followed Gwen out of the house. After everything that happened, his brain was screaming for him to stay inside, but dealing with Felipe’s wounds had wiped out most of his medical supplies. For Felipe, he would go into town. As Gwen grabbed a wicker basket from a stack near the door, Oliver’s gaze roamed over the empty pasture.
If he looked closely, he was sure he would find hunks of flesh or Felipe’s blood spattered across the grass, but apart from the bullet holes and the chunk of molding missing from the stable’s wall, there was no evidence that a battle had been waged there less than twelve hours before. Anyone passing down the road would never know, and that was probably for the best. Following Gwen onto the main road, Oliver took the empty basket from her hand and studied her expression. Like all of them, Gwen looked tired, but she didn’t look nearly as haunted or traumatized as he feared. Still, Gwen wasn’t an investigator; she hadn’t signed up to risk life and limb or to haul dead bodies around, and the guilt of knowing he had dragged her into it again gnawed inside him.
“I didn’t want to ask in front of Mr. Allen, but how are you holding up?” Oliver asked.
“Not too badly. I mean, this is not how I expected this trip to go, but if there had been vampires here, it probably would have been worse. I think I have had my fill of corpses for a while.”
A sad, nervous laugh escaped his lips. “So I should expect that you’ll be avoiding my lab for a while?”
“What? No, your corpses are polite. I take back what I said about Aldorhaven’s corpses being better quality. Yours don’t try to kill people. And don’t breathe a word of this to my sisters. They weren’t thrilled with me going on a trip away from the society without them, and if this gets back to them, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” He didn’t need Ivy or Vanessa coming to the lab to rain holy hell on him, especially when he deserved it. “Seriously, though are you sure you’re all right, Gwen? Last night was… I never meant for you to get so involved. I don’t ever want to put you in danger.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say I was in danger this time. I mean, I was upstairs out of the way. The Jed Monroe incident was far more terrifying than this was, up until Felipe got hurt. Though, I’m starting to think I should take up knife throwing. Maybe I can convince Felipe to teach me when we get back to the society. How is he doing? Really doing.”
“He says he’s fine, but he’s tired, in pain, and annoyed that he’s been sentenced to a day of rest, even if he obviously needs it. At least he seems to be healing well.”
“And you?”
Oliver sighed and chewed his lip. “I’m fine, mostly guilty. I shouldn’t have blown up at him yesterday. I should have waited until I had dealt with all his wounds and he was better, but seeing him like that… It was my worst nightmare come true. I still can’t believe he tried to downplay how bad everything was; meanwhile, his intestines were hanging out.” Oliver sighed. “I hate how he throws himself into danger like that, like he isn’t worth protecting too.”
“You knew what you were getting into when you set your sights on him, Ol. His reputation was well established by the time we came along.”
“I know, but there’s a difference between taking dangerous cases where you might get hurt and literally throwing yourself on a knife. We talked about it, and we’re fine now. I still don’t like that I yelled at him, even if it was because I don’t want to see him hurt. I want to do something to remind him how much he means to me.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
As the road curved on the hill, Oliver’s eyes snagged on something bright peeking through the scraggly trees lining the road. Stepping through a gap in the brush, Oliver’s eyes widened in wonder at the meadow of wildflowers spread out before him in a kaleidoscope of color. During their walks to town, they had always cut through the cemetery or taken the steamer, so he had never noticed the field. The flowers’ heads bobbed in the breeze as their light scent chased away all thoughts of the Dysterwood looming in the distance. The last bees of the season ducked between purple asters and orange helenium while a monarch butterfly flitted on a black-eyed Susan. The meadow looked like something out of a painting, and all Oliver could think was how badly he wanted Felipe to see it too.
“Oliver?” Gwen called in alarm.
“Right here.”
“What did I say about disappearing?” As she reached his side, her mouth opened in surprise. “This is beautiful.”
“It is. What would you think if I proposed to Felipe here?”
“You brought the ring with you?”
Oliver nodded. “It didn’t feel right to leave it behind. I kept hoping to find some pretty spot where I could ask him, and I finally found it. They must have bloomed after the rain.” Oliver’s heart sank at the realization that Felipe was still in no shape to schlep down the road in the cold, no matter how pretty the view was. “Do you think the flowers will still be like this tomorrow?”
“I’m sure they will be. There’s a whole field of them, and it doesn’t feel like it’s going to frost tonight.”
“Good. Then, I’m going to do it tomorrow as long as Felipe’s up to it.” Oliver bit his lip in anticipation. It wasn’t the trip to the botanical gardens and evening out he had initially planned, but the meadow was secluded and more beautiful than the manicured parks they had in Manhattan. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
“I think he will, though you know Felipe would love anything you planned for him.” Bumping his arm, Gwen nudged him back toward town. “You know, that would be a pretty place for a picnic. You could always pick up some treats while we’re in town or make some sandwiches ahead of time. That way, you have everything ready to go tomorrow, and you have an excuse to get him out of the house besides going on a walk.”
“So it will be a double surprise, a picnic and a proposal. Felipe will love that,” Oliver said, ignoring his quickening pulse.
The thought of going into a bunch of stores and diverting from the plan was anxiety inducing, but for Felipe, Oliver would do it. He wasn’t sure what they sold in town or what people ate at picnics beyond sandwiches, but Gwen would know. While they couldn’t get bagels and lox or Chinese food here, he could probably pick up chocolate or some good bread and honey. A swell of warmth rose in Oliver’s breast at the thought of finally proposing to Felipe. He hoped the weather would hold, so everything would be perfect. No matter what, Felipe was getting food and flowers before Oliver asked him to spend the rest of his life at his side. He still wasn’t sure what had gone wrong with Felipe’s relationship with his parents, but Oliver wanted to make it clear that he would always be there for him and love him no matter what. If he could write it on his soul to always remind him he deserved love and comfort, he would.
Walking up the block toward Main Street, Oliver was surprised to see so many people out. It was Friday after all, but outside the butcher and the general store, there was a line a dozen people deep. For a moment, he thought he had forgotten a holiday until he saw the way they spoke a little louder and more strained than usual and how the people at the back of the line seemed to count those ahead of them with growing anxiety. Oliver’s chest tightened; they were already starting to panic. It had only been a day since the road closed, but they were already stocking up on food as if it never would. The barge was supposed to come into town in two days, but they didn’t know when food deliveries would start again. Oliver didn’t know how difficult or expensive it would be to get food in by boat. Suppliers might abandon them or charge more, and if the mill and ironworks were already struggling, it could get bad quickly. As they passed the crowds, Oliver kept his eyes low and tried to ignore the stares from the townspeople, which ranged from curious to almost hostile. Oliver drew in a fortifying breath. He, Gwen, and Felipe needed to figure out a plan for how they would deal with the Lady and the Dysterwood before the town destroyed itself or came after them.
Oliver was relieved to find the pharmacy empty as they slipped inside. The bell jangled overhead, and Oliver’s shoulders relaxed. He had like the pharmacy from the first time he entered, but now, he looked at it with a different eye. Even though his father had been dead for thirty-seven years, he couldn’t help but wonder what touches of him remained. The wall colors had changed, displays and soda fountains had been added, but were there still labels written in his hand or jars he had chosen left on the shelf?
“I’ll be right with you, folks,” the younger Mr. Hughes called from the back.
“Take your time,” Gwen replied as she eyed a display of perfume.
Oliver drifted to Gwen’s side, his eyes running over the shelf of cosmetics, salves, and specialty medicines. At the top was a row of jars filled with brown paste. The handwritten ad above them proclaimed them to be peanut butter, a nutritious substitute for meat. Oliver frowned and turned a jar over in his hand. He had never heard of it, but it might be useful. An older man’s gruff voice came from the back of the building a second before Mr. Hughes swept out of the backroom in his white coat.
“Yes, Pops, I’ll take care of it as soon as I’m done with these folks,” Mr. Hughes called over his shoulder. His face brightened as he turned to Oliver and Gwen. “If you’re on the fence about the peanut butter, I highly recommend it. The peanuts are grown on my great uncle’s land, and it’s ground and jarred by my father according to Dr. Kellogg’s recipe. It’s supposed to be for people who struggle to eat enough meat, but I think it’s good on toast or straight from the jar.”
Oliver had many feelings about Dr. Kellogg, not all of which were good, but if the line at the butcher was any indication, Felipe might need it. “I’ll take two then.”
Mr. Hughes nodded as he took the jars from Oliver. “Anything else you two need?”
“Actually, I have a whole list,” Oliver replied, pulling it from his pocket.
“And here I thought you came for my sodas. Are you planning to stick around, Dr. Barlow? I speak for everyone when I say we could use a new— I mean, another doctor.”
Gwen snickered and slid a vial of perfume onto Oliver’s pile on the counter .
“No, no, I unexpectedly went through a bunch of the supplies I brought, and I was hoping to replenish them just in case.”
“Read them off to me, and I’ll let you know if we have them.”
“I would like several tins of moist or dry gauze, both if you have them. I also need povidone iodine, carbolic acid, isopropyl alcohol,” Oliver began, rattling off half a dozen other things he might need when dealing with Felipe’s healing wounds.
As he reached the end of his list, the floor creaked in the back room, and an older Black man with salt and pepper hair and a drooping mustache stepped out. In the years since the two photographs in front of the pharmacy had been taken, Mr. Hughes Sr. hadn’t changed much. The lines around his eyes and mouth had deepened, but Oliver could still see the man his father had gone into business with. The older gentleman swept his gaze over the pharmacy with a thoughtful frown before landing on Oliver. The words died in his throat at the way Mr. Hughes Sr. looked at him as if he were all at once impossible and not what he had hoped to find.
“Pops, I said I’d get it in a second,” Mr. Hughes Jr. said under his breath as he tallied up the pile of supplies at the till.
His father waved him off and shook his head, his eyes never leaving Oliver. “I thought I heard someone I knew. Must have been a ghost.”
The younger pharmacist rolled his eyes, but Oliver swallowed hard. He had seen the way Mayor Stills reacted when he first heard him. “Did you think you heard Stephen?”
Mr. Hughes Sr. narrowed his eyes at Oliver. “Do I know you, young man?”
“No, but you knew my father. I’m Joanna and Stephen’s son.”
Mr. Hughes Jr. shot Gwen and his father a questioning look, but the other man drew closer to Oliver with a curious frown. As his gaze swept over him, things finally clicked into place.
“Well, I’ll be,” the man said with wonder. “You sound just like him. I had always hoped you made it, but— What are you doing here?”
“I’m here with my colleagues to investigate the rising dead,” Oliver replied, gesturing to Gwen. The older Mr. Hughes knew about the Jarngrens, what Stephen had tried to stop, and what Oliver had to finish. “I’m also hoping to put things to right once and for all if I can.”
Mr. Hughes Sr. gave him a grave, knowing look and nodded. “Wait here. I have something for you.”
The older man disappeared into the backroom, and Oliver could hear him opening and closing drawers as if searching for something. After a moment, he returned with a flat, dusty box.
“I thought you threw that thing out years ago. It’s older than I am,” the younger pharmacist said as he loaded Gwen’s basket with their purchases.
“No, I moved it, so you wouldn’t throw it out. I told you one day someone would come back for it.” Pushing the box marked Stephen toward Oliver, he continued, “When Stephen got sick that last time, I always hoped he would recover, but when it was clear he wasn’t coming back to the shop, I held onto the things he left here. I thought Joanna would come back and get them, but—” He made a helpless gesture. “After she disappeared too, I couldn’t bear to throw them away or give them to the Jarngrens. I wasn’t sure if you survived or if you’d ever come to Aldorhaven, but I had a hunch you’d be back.”
Oliver’s eyes burned knowing this man had held onto his father’s belongings for almost forty years. He hadn’t known his father’s name until only days before, but someone had refused to let the last pieces of him go. “Thank you, sir, for holding onto this.”
“Most of it is probably junk. Stephen wrote all over everything, but I’m pretty sure his pharmacy school diploma is in there along with a picture of him and your mother on their wedding day. They used to hang on the wall behind the counter.”
As Oliver pulled the box closer, he felt the comforting press of Gwen’s powers against his arm. His brain still reeled from all of this: that his parents loved him, that they loved each other, that they had left the world trying to save him from their fate. After speaking to Mr. Allen, Oliver thought he understood his mother, but he wanted to know about the man whose footsteps he had inadvertently walked in and whose voice he carried. For the first time, he truly wanted to know.
“Mr. Hughes, I never got to meet my father… or my mother for that matter. If you aren’t too busy, would you be willing to tell me about him? From what I understand, there’s no one alive who knew him as well as you did.”
Mr. Hughes stared at Oliver as if still trying to puzzle out where this man carrying the ghost of his partner had come from. With a nod and a small, fond smile, he flipped the counter open.
“After you settle your bill with Junior, meet me in the back. I’ll tell you everything you want to know about your father.”