Winter's Warrior: Mark of the Monarch (Winter's Saga 4)

“Like I said Mom, you’re the strongest, most beautiful woman I’ll ever know.” Evan reached down and hugged his mother gently, kissing her on the forehead before pulling away.

“We’ll get you the most beautiful wheelchair, Margo, and I’ll have the house fitted to be wheelchair accessible today.” Theo nodded supportively.

“I would be honored if you’d allow me to help you with your physical therapy, Dr. Winter. I’ve learned to have faith from watching you and your family.” Creed spoke up, a rarity for him with more than just Meg. “I have faith that something will happen and you’ll get your legs back.” Creed said the words so assuredly that everyone turned to look at him in worried surprise. For a moment, everybody held their breath, not sure how Margo would take Creed’s statement.

Margo’s eyes lit up. “Yes, Creed! I will take you up on your offer and we can begin therapy immediately. I believe you are right. Someday, somehow, if it is truly God’s will, I will not just walk, but run again!”

She clasped her hands with joy at the hope Creed’s words planted in her heart. No matter how faith-filled Margo was, she had the heart of a fighter. Sitting back to let the others do battle without her was going to be a real lesson in humility. She needed to know she would keep herself physically capable and not think of herself as physically handicapped. Margo reached out to Creed and pulled him in for a hug.

She whispered something in his ear before she let him stand. “Well, call those doctors back in here. I want to know how soon I can go home,” Margo announced.

“What did Mom whisper to you?” Meg asked discreetly as the doctors discussed Margo’s possible discharge the next day.

“She told me she loved me,” he blushed then added, “and she told me she wanted me to enjoy life with you at my side.”

Meg frowned, “What did she mean by that?”

“I was kinda hoping you’d tell me.”

“It sounded like…no, it couldn’t be. This must be the meds talking.”

“What?”

Meg sighed and tried to keep the blush from creeping any further up her neck.

“It sounded as if she just suggested I marry you.”

Creed’s face went white while Meg’s turned bright red.

“Yeah, it must be the meds.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“That’s just …”

“Yeah, wow.”





Chapter 35 Alik’s Evolution



“How’s he doing?” Sloan asked Farrow when they happened to run into each other in the kitchen.

“His fever is still really high.” Farrow was filling a popcorn-sized bowl full of ice. “Evan told me we can’t give him anything for it—something to do with the fever playing an important part of his evolution. All I’m allowed to do is pat him down with a cold cloth.” She scowled at the ice as though it was responsible for Alik’s illness.

“I asked Cole about it. He says he remembers having the high fever, too and it lasting for several days when he went through the change,” she offered. “It has to have something to do with…”

“Sloan!” Cole’s voice echoed through the house.

“Sorry, that boy needs a swift kick in the…”

“Food?” he hollered.

“Cocoa Balls coming up!” she yelled back. Sloan was mumbling to herself as she finished preparing Cole’s breakfast tray by pouring milk over the chocolate cereal. She added a glass of fruit juice and a slice of melon on the side and hurried out of the kitchen.

Farrow was right on her heels, but her patient wasn’t calling for her, however much Farrow wished he would. He was still unconscious. Farrow balanced the bowl of ice water in one hand and reached into the linen closet with the other. She wanted to use a fresh washcloth on Alik. She knew that doing little things for him would have to be enough for her to feel peaceful right now. However sure everyone else was that this was all part of Alik’s evolution, Farrow was worried for him.

She’d never seen someone go through a change before. She was dosed as a little girl, so she had no memories of even her own experience.

When she walked into his room, she put the bowl on his bedside table and reached out her hand to place it on his chest. She just needed to feel it rise and fall before she could do anything else. Her hand waited on Alik’s wide chest, but it felt no movement. She tried not to panic but shifted her hand to where she should feel his powerful heart beating. She only felt a soft erratic thrumming. Using her other hand, she searched his neck for a pulse. His skin was slick with sweat and hot to the touch.

Oh, dear God no! She pleaded.

“Sloan! HELP ME!” she yelled as though calling to a soldier a mile away, her fear giving her voice strength.

Seconds later, the young, blonde doctor came running down the hallway and into Alik’s room. “What’s going on?”

“He’s not breathing and I can barely feel his heartbeat.” Farrow’s face was waxen with fear—an emotion she really didn’t even know what to do with as a trained soldier.