The Wolf Came on Christmas (Johanna and Alexander) novel Chapter 37

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I know that during a state of semi-unconsciousness and discomfort I heard Sasha crying. It couldn’t have been anyone else-it was the only baby I had heard in a very long time.

When I finally woke up, I saw that the room I was in was dark, and Sasha’s wails filled the entire house with the intensity of a storm. What was going on? The room spun when I tried to get up, and I clutched the headboard with my good arm. My whole body jolted and I groaned, feeling hot with a slight fever and dizzy. I had spent the whole night sleeping on my side, on that side of my body that didn’t feel numb.

Yes, it was the baby. Her screams sounded very loud.

The instinct to be with her surged in me suddenly, and I fought the dizziness that threatened to knock me to the floor as I got out of bed. As I crossed the doorway into the hallway, I realized I was barely dressed in jeans and socks, and that my matted hair covered my breasts. That’s why I felt cold! I went to the guest bathroom, grabbed a towel the size of Pangaea, and wrapped my torso with it; I needed to get to my room to look for a shirt or a zip-up sweatshirt to get dressed. The pain in my right arm was tolerable-I felt the flesh swollen and throbbing but I was grateful that the pain wasn’t too intense.

I think I didn’t even consider, for a second, the possibility that someone might have seen me in that state, half-naked and half-fainting.

I managed to reach the stairs, sheltered behind the panel that formed the hallway toward my room, and peeked down into the living room. I didn’t see anyone there; Sasha’s crying was coming from the kitchen. What caught my attention, however, was that the fireplace living room had been turned into the operations center of a science-fiction movie or something like that: on my coffee table there were four or five monitors, two laptops, and small square devices with Wi-Fi antennas and blinking lights; cables on the floor, cell phones, and portable radio equipment. On the monitors there were split images of my garage, the entrance, the grove… surveillance cameras?

I hurried to run across the rest of the hallway to get to my room. I went in very quickly and closed the door without making noise; but when I turned to go to my closet, I found that there was someone in my bed. I almost screamed, and covered my mouth with my healthy hand so it wouldn’t come out. Screaming like a damsel in distress was becoming a habit.

He was asleep, on his back atop the comforter, his torso bare.

“…Alexander,” I murmured, very softly.

He didn’t move; he just breathed evenly, his face turned in my direction. I saw a couple of pill

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bottles on the nightstand, water bottles, and a box of tissues. He looked better. With a sigh of relief, I went to the closet and took out a sweatshirt. I wouldn’t be able to wear a bra until I could move both arms again, so I resigned myself to wearing a garment I could put on

without help.

At least the pain no longer made me cry.

Alexander growled in his sleep, and I hurried to pull the zipper all the way up to my neck. I combed my hair a little with my fingers (I needed a shower anyway; I had dried blood stuck to it and there wasn’t much point in trying to fix myself, I figured). I dared to approach the bed and placed a hand on the wolf’s forehead: there was no more fever. And he was breathing without that barely perceptible rattle that had worried me so much before. That made me feel infinitely better. I crouched down, resting my good elbow on the mattress and tucking the injured one against my lap, in the way that hurt the least. I stayed watching the variety of expressions that crossed Alexander’s face, even in his unconsciousness.

Pain, impatience, rage, anxiety…

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One was Hans, the doctor, and the other was a man with sharp, Oriental features; black hair somewhat long but neatly trimmed, his entire bearing exuded an executive air. Neither face rang a bell for me from anywhere, and I didn’t feel like stepping into the kitchen simply

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because I didn’t quite know who they were. The Oriental man stood up from his chair right away, and-

Wait, wait.

My kitchen looked brand new!

The door had been fixed (it was obvious they had changed it-it wasn’t the same door), the splintered frame had been sanded and painted a different color, the floor that had previously been covered in blood looked impeccably clean, and the table-there was a new table! Round, yes, but brown or mahogany in color, though it was the same model as the one that had been destroyed when Alexander fell on top of it. Everything looked tidy and clean. Impeccable.

When and how had that happened? I stood there staring at the two men and the woman, impassive.

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