Chapter 43
Chapter
Forty-Three
Nash watched Christian as he dug, something almost robotic about his actions.
Wren headed toward the door, but Nash grabbed her arm. “Wait . . .”
“I can’t!” Her words almost sounded frantic.
“Wren.”
“That’s my brother.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp. “He’s going to bleed through his stitches and get an infection. I’m not standing behind a window watching that happen.”
“I don’t think he’s in his right mind right now. I don’t know how he’s going to react to you when he’s in this state.”
“But—”
“Wren. Please. Just wait.” Nash kept his voice level.
She raised her chin. “So we just watch?”
“Someone else should walk up on him, not you.” Nash paused. “I’m sorry. I know how that sounds. But your best bet is to wait for Luke and let him handle this situation. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Wren frowned but stayed where she was.
Beside the barn, Christian continued to scoop and throw. The mound beside him continued to grow higher.
The sight . . . it was eerie. Christian almost appeared to be in a trance.
Then headlights swung off the county road and sped down the drive.
Nash watched the beams sweep across the front lawn.
Then the lights stopped on Christian.
The boy didn’t seem to notice. He kept shoveling.
The SUV stopped, and the driver’s door opened. Luke Wilder stepped out.
Nash saw him go still.
Luke hadn’t expected this either. None of them had.
Wren was out the door before Nash could stop her. She’d waited, and now Luke was here.
Her brother needed help. She didn’t care about the pain in her hip or about Nash’s concern.
She needed to get to Christian.
“Wren.” Nash was on her heels.
She didn’t slow down. She headed straight toward Christian.
Despite the commotion around him, Christian kept digging.
Luke beat her to Christian. “Christian. Son, I need you to stop what you’re doing.”
Nothing. It was as if Christian didn’t hear him.
Wren finally reached her brother and paused, watching him shovel as if he were hypnotized. “Christian. Christian, it’s Wren.”
He kept digging.
Her heart lodged into her throat. What was going on right now?
“Don’t touch him.” Luke crouched on the other side. “Not yet.”
“But he’s bleeding through his stitches.”
“I know.”
Behind her, the screen door banged.
Wren looked back and saw her mother hurrying across the grass. Despite Wren’s attempts to protect her, the commotion had woken her anyway.
Nora and Marlowe were three steps behind her.
“Mom—” Wren turned toward her.
Mom rushed past Wren as if she weren’t there and dropped down in the dirt beside Christian.
“Christian . . .” she murmured. “It’s okay. Everything is okay. Mama is here.”
Christian stopped. Froze. His gaze focused and unfocused.
He drew in a few ragged breaths.
Then he sat back on his heels, turned toward her, and blinked. “Mom?”
“I’m right here, honey.”
He looked at his hands, turning them over and studying them. “I don’t—why am I outside?”
“We were hoping you could tell us that,” Luke said.
“I was in bed.” He looked at Mom as if she were the only one out here. “I was in bed. I don’t know how I got out here.”
Wren watched the exchange, unable to move.
Then Christian said, “Did I hurt somebody?”
Her mother made a sound and pulled him into her arms. “No, honey. You didn’t hurt anyone.”
Luke rose and looked at her mom. “Why don’t you get him inside and get that hand seen to?”
“We can do that,” Nora said.
But Marlowe continued to stare at the ground where Christian had been digging.
“Marlowe.” Nora put a hand on her youngest sister’s arm. “Come on. Inside.”
“That’s where the treaty box is,” Marlowe muttered.
Everyone turned to look at her.
What was she talking about?