For the first time in weeks, I wake up having slept a full eight hours. The artificial window on the wall depicts sunny skies, and the clock in the lower corner of the glass reads 9:00 a.m. Late morning. Unheard of for me. Korwin sleeps soundly in the bed next to mine.
I am still wrapped around SC-13.
I tap the button on the side of the artificial womb to clear the foggy glass. SC-13’s heart blinks at me. Is it faster than last night? It seems so. I glance at the clock and start counting beats. After a minute, a wave of joy rushes from my toes to the crown of my head. One hundred seventy-five beats per minute. Normal, according to Charlie. As if to prove he’s better, SC-13 tumbles within his iridescent sac of fluid.
What does it mean? Perhaps my presence and love have leant more than emotional support. After all, if I’d been pregnant the natural way, he’d be close to me all the time. I have to show Charlie.
Stiff from lying in the same position all night, I push the womb back onto the cart and sit up to stretch. I feel good. With curiosity, I note that my back doesn’t hurt anymore. I climb from the bed and take a few experimental steps toward the bathroom.
The journey is surprisingly painless. A distance that was agonizing yesterday is an easy walk for me. There’s a full-length mirror on the bathroom door and I twist so that I can see my back. Once I’ve wriggled my hospital tunic off, I work my fingers under the bandage on my shoulder and manage to bend the tape and white gauze away. My wound is completely healed. There’s a dark pink scar where I was injured, but no blood, no scab. Frantically, I tear the rest of the bandages off, my back, my leg, even the piece of gauze on my arm. Everything is healed. Completely healed.
I snap my elbow and my hand tingles blue with electrical charge. I can feel the energy run in a ribbon from the tickle at the back of my brain to my fingertips and I stretch and massage the power like blue taffy between my fingers. How is this possible?
One look in the mirror and I know. SC-13 has stabilized my cells. My wolf was afraid of him because SC-13 has the power to send her away for good. He’s allowed me to heal myself. Charlie and I were wrong about Konrad. He wasn’t using blood or tissue as the stabilizing agent. It was proximity. Simply being near SC-13 is stabilizing. I don’t understand the science of it, but it’s real.
I have to tell Charlie. I don my tunic again and rush from the bathroom. I’m about to leave the room when Korwin says, “Where are you going?” His voice holds an edge of desperation. He can’t move from the waist down. It must be agonizing.
“I was going to find Charlie, but it can wait.”
I approach his bed and climb in next to him. My fingers stroke through the hair over his ear. His eyes flutter and then lock onto me, pupils constricting in the light.
“You look… amazing. Healthy. You’re feeling better?” he asks softly. His cheek twitches. He removes my fingers from his hair and places them on his chest.
I smile and cuddle in closer. “Yes. Much better. In fact, there’s something I want to try.”
He winces. “Do you mind hitting the call button first? I need Charlie,” he says.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“It hurts. My legs burn.” There’s a note of panic in his voice and an ache of embarrassment.
“Maybe I can help.”
“I hate you seeing me like this,” he says.
Frowning, I say, “It doesn’t bother me. I want to care for you.”
“Shouldn’t you take care of yourself?” He snorts. “You could barely walk last night.”
“Something wonderful has happened, Korwin.”
He lifts his eyes to meet my gaze. I work my hand under his shirt and place my palm just above his belly button. With a deep breath, I allow the ribbon at the back of my brain to unravel and flow into him. His lips part and his abdominal muscles tense beneath my touch. Blue tendrils dance across his skin, glowing through his hospital tunic.
He hooks his fingers behind my neck and pulls me closer, his lips finding mine. The full weight of my body shifts against his. I slide my palm over his bottom rib and up his back, shifting our tunics to allow the skin of our bellies to touch. I hitch one knee over his hips, the way I did the day we escaped Konrad’s lab.
Our kiss is hot, liquid butterscotch. It is the sizzle of a drop of water on a hot griddle, the smolder of August sun on packed earth. Unlike the night we escaped Konrad, a longing awakens in me. This is not just about survival or healing. I ache to be closer to Korwin. My heart and soul pour into him and I burn. My eyes are closed during our kiss, but the blue glow brightens the inside of my eyelids.
Korwin smiles against my mouth. The bed moves as he bends one knee and then the other. His fingers dig into the sides of my hair, and he nudges me back. His eyes, usually hazel, are lit from behind, making them appear as green as mine. I feel slightly weaker, like our energy exchange wasn’t exactly equal. It doesn’t matter. His legs are moving; that’s the important thing. He bends and straightens his right and his left.
“You fixed me,” he says. “It worked. The pain is gone.”
“We’ve got to tell Charlie.” I shift toward the edge of the bed.
“Wait.” He grabs the sides of my face. “I love you, Lydia. I’ve loved you since the first time I met you.” A tear runs from the corner of his eye. I wipe it away.
“I love you too,” I say.
“This thing with Dr. Konrad, it’s made me understand how short life is. Fleeting. Unpredictable.”
I nod. “I was scared too. I wasn’t sure we’d make it.”
“I’m done waiting. I want you to be mine, permanently. I don’t want to lose another day to tomorrow or what-ifs. We are adults now and free. Marry me. Marry me while it’s still our choice to make.”
I place my hands on either side of his face, my heart pounding with the force of our connection. A barrage of memories comes back to me. The day I lifted him from the healing machine at Stuart Manor. Our first kiss. His hand on the small of my back, turning me away from Alpha in the Kennel. The hope in his eyes as we lie dying in Konrad’s lab. I have lived a feline existence with Korwin, nine lives, each one more intense than the last. Our existence is intertwined, destined, and symbiotic. I cannot know myself anymore without knowing Korwin.
“Yes,” I say. My voice is breathy but certain. “Let’s do it today.”
As if he’d never been injured, he sits up and wraps me in his arms. We’re still embracing when the door opens.
“Whoa,” Charlie says, shielding his eyes with his hand.
I scramble off Korwin. “It’s okay, Charlie,” I say, laughing. “We’re fully dressed.”
“I saw nothing.” He lowers his hand, and his eyes widen with surprise. “Korwin, your legs!”
Korwin climbs out of bed and stretches his arms above his head. “Good as new, doc.”
“How? How did this happen?”
Korwin opens his mouth to answer and then balks and looks at me. He doesn’t know. I never told him.
“SC-13, Charlie. I slept next to him last night. I woke up healed. My back is better. I’m better.”
As if he doesn’t believe me, he approaches and turns me around. Discreetly, he checks beneath my tunic. After peeking through the neck, he lifts the back and runs his fingers over my healed skin while I hold the front of the tunic in place. “You’re completely healed, Lydia. This is incredible.”
“It’s a miracle,” Korwin says.
“It’s the baby,” I say. I straighten my top and circumvent Korwin’s bed to reach SC-13. “It helped him too. Look, Charlie. He’s stronger. Whatever he’s made of needs me, and I need him. Konrad wasn’t using his cells. He was using his proximity.”
Charlie approaches the womb and examines SC-13, noting his heart rate and movements. He shakes his head in amazement. “I want to do another scan, Lydia. And take some blood.”
“Okay.”
“Meet me in Room 4 in ten minutes?”
I nod. Distracted, Charlie leaves without another word.
“I think Charlie’s overwhelmed,” I say.
Korwin approaches and wraps his arms around me from behind. “You’re overwhelming.” He kisses me on the cheek. “While you’re being poked and prodded and having your organs looked at, I will make preparations. Our wedding isn’t going to plan itself.”
I turn to wrap him in a full embrace. “Today, Korwin. I want to marry you today. It’s all we have, and even this isn’t guaranteed. I won’t wait another minute.”
Korwin and I kiss goodbye in the hall as if he’s going to war rather than to the chapel. We’re both still in our hospital tunics but he doesn’t want to wait to talk to the pastor. I have never met the pastor, and I wonder what the ceremony will be like. Then again, I’m beyond caring.
When I first left Hemlock Hollow, it was as a tourist. Jeremiah and I expected to see the world and then return to our roots behind the wall. The second time I left was a rescue mission. I intended to dive into the outside world, slip my arms around Korwin, and tow him back to the place we both belonged, behind the wall. I’ve left again, but this time it feels permanent. The day I fought my way back from death, I realized what the Ordnung did to Korwin and me was wrong. Bishop Yoder and Deacon Lapp betrayed us. They refused to accept Korwin because he was different and refused to accept me because I dared to love him. During the months I’ve been away, I’ve made a life for myself. I’ve learned God is there for me, with or without the Ordnung. It is time for me to move on, to start new traditions and a new life.
I practically skip toward Room 4, anxious to get the tests over with and to help Korwin with preparations. But to get there, I have to pass Jeremiah’s room. The sight of him through the window in the door is a two-ton weight on my chest. He’s awake!
Have they told him I was the one who attacked him? I have to talk to him, to know he’s all right. Fingers trembling, I push the door open.
“Jeremiah,” I say breathlessly. I rush to his side, straight into his one-armed hug. I’m crying, trembling with guilt over what I’ve done to him.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Lydia Troyer.” His cornflower blues search my face and he squeezes my hand. “Shh. None of that. Don’t cry for me. I’m okay.” He wipes under my eyes.
I kiss his cheek with lips wet with tears. “I came before but you were unconscious. I’m so happy you’re awake.”
He tugs at my hospital tunic with his one good arm. “Looks like I’m not the only one needing medical attention. What happened to you?”
“I’m fine. A little banged up from my last mission for the Liberty Party. Hardly worth mentioning.” I wipe the tears from my face with both hands.
He doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t press the topic. “How long have I been here? The doctor won’t tell me, and I don’t remember anything.”
“A week.”
“A week! My mother must be beside herself. She’ll think I defected… or died.”
I squeeze his hand. One of the nurses must have cleaned him up because his hair’s been washed and all the blood is gone. The eyepatch has been removed. “Do you need some water?”
“No. I have some. The nurse was just here.” He gestures his chin toward a cup on the tray next to his bed.
“Jeremiah, I am blessed to see you again, but this place isn’t… safe. Why did you come? Why now?” I put off telling him the truth about how he was injured, and the omission eats at my insides.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Always straight to the point with you.”
I sniff. “It must’ve been important for you to come all this way.”
He nods and licks his lips. “The week before I left Hemlock Hollow, my grandfather passed away of natural causes.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me too. It was a sad day for my family. But I came to tell you—we had to elect a new bishop.” His eyes search mine. “It’s your father.”
“Father is the bishop?” I can’t believe it. “But he already has so much responsibility with the farm and me gone. How will he ever do this too?”
“He’s marrying Katie Kauffman. They’ve been courting since just after you left.”
“No. Truly?” The thought of my father with Katie warms my heart. It’s a good match. I wonder briefly if it’s a match based on love or simply shared responsibilities, and then think how little it matters in the Ordnung. If it’s what my father wants, it’s for the best. He would not commit to marriage without prayerful consideration.
“That’s wonderful news. I can’t wait to congratulate him,” I say.
“You know what this means? You can come home.”
I search his face. My mind tries to grasp this revelation but can’t make sense of it at first.
“Everyone misses you. Well, maybe not Ruthie Mae or Deacon Lapp, but the rest of us.” One corner of his mouth lifts.
As the news settles in, my heart sinks. I should be excited about it. With my father as bishop, Korwin could be baptized, and we could be married this November. But my stomach twists at the thought. The life I thought I wanted before could be mine again. A safe, peaceful life without trouble or war.
“It’s exciting news,” I say.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing, I just… I’ve made a life here.”
“You do want to come home, don’t you? Are you afraid Korwin won’t?”
I shake my head and force a smile. “It’s not Korwin. I’ve changed. There’s something you need to know.” I can’t put it off any longer. To do so would be deceitful.
“Uh-oh. Sounds serious.”
“It is.”
He flashes his eyes at me, willing me to continue.
“Did anyone tell you what attacked you?” I know the answer, but it seems as good a place to start as any.
With a sigh, he shakes his head. “No one will talk about it.”
I retract my hand from his and tangle my fingers in my lap. I could lie. If he doesn’t remember, he doesn’t have to know the truth. But lying isn’t who I am. “It was me,” I say mournfully. “I attacked you. I didn’t know who you were.”
The smile drains from his face. “You didn’t recognize me? Not even when you were tearing my arm from its socket?” There’s an edge to his tone.
“No. It was dark.” I shake my head. “Pitch black. You were the last person I expected to come across. You didn’t see me clearly either.” Ashamed, I hold back the part about losing my mind and following my wolf.
“I don’t remember the attack.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Was it just you? The doctor told me my attacker broke my bones in multiple places.”
“Just me.”
“You’ve gotten stronger.”
“Yes.” In truth, I was always strong, but training with the Liberty Party has made me superhuman. I’m faster and tougher. My presence has changed too. I no longer hide my strength under mounds of fabric. Anyone can see my muscles, my speed.
“Well…” Jeremiah stares at my bicep, bulging under the exposed skin of my upper arm. “Make a note to not approach Lydia Troyer in a dark barn.”
“And I’m marrying Korwin… tonight,” I blurt.
His lips pull into a smile and he laughs through his nose. “Not anymore though. You’ll want to come home to be married the Amish way.”
I shake my head. “No. No more waiting. No more hoops to jump through or people to appease. It’s tonight.”
“But… but… what about your father? Surely you’ll want him to attend.”
It pains me to think he’ll miss it, but I know in my heart I’m doing the right thing. “I won’t wait another day. All we have is today. Korwin and I are ready for this. I can’t wait for the Ordnung to be ready too.”
He scowls.
“You don’t approve.” I look down at my hands.
“I’d like to tell you you’re wrong, but even with your father as bishop, it would take time,” he says. “Who am I to say what you should do? I’m not your husband.” His lips curl slightly, just north of neutral.
“Then you understand.”
He slaps my shoulder with his good hand. “Understanding a woman is far beyond my intellectual abilities.”
“Jeremiah…”
He shrugs. “I can’t say it’s what I’d choose for myself, but I can see why you might consider it. Promise me you’ll think on it, Lydia.”
“I will. And I’ll help you get back to Hemlock Hollow, as soon as you are strong enough.”
We both look up as the door opens and Trinity enters the room, a covered tray cradled in her arms. “Lydia, you’re awake!” She rushes to place the tray down on Jeremiah’s bedside table and gathers me into a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
I return her embrace. “I’m so glad they didn’t throw you into a prison cell,” I say. “I heard the council questioned you.”
“With the amount of insider information I gave them on the Green Republic, I think I made it very clear whose side I am on.”
“I want to hear all about it,” I say.
“It will have to wait until I’m done with my shift. They’ve made me a nurse’s assistant. I’m here to feed the patient.” She looks at Jeremiah and grins.
“This is your nurse?” I ask Jeremiah.
His cheeks warm to a slight red. “Yes. I see you two know each other.”
“Old pals.”
He waves his good hand lightheartedly. “I can feed myself. Go visit.”
Trinity laughs. “Jeremiah isn’t good at accepting help with things.”
“You don’t say?”
She lifts an eyebrow in his direction. “I doubt very much you could hobble down to the kitchen to get your own tray, and I’m not cleaning you up after you try to feed yourself with your left hand.”
Jeremiah scratches his temple. “You have a point. You win. You can feed me.”
Trinity moves to the side of the bed and helps to put the head up, tucking the bangs of her long black bob behind her ear. She wheels the tray over and removes the cover. Chicken soup. The Englisher version is nothing like what we eat at home and smells as bad as it tastes.
“Looks delicious,” Jeremiah says.
She digs a spoon into the dish and brings it to his mouth. Smugly, I wait for him to make a face. He doesn’t. He locks eyes with her, chews and swallows. He can’t possibly like it, but he whispers, “Thank you.”
Suddenly, I feel like a voyeur, as if I’m interrupting something intimate. I sense a connection between them that charges the air in the room. I shouldn’t be here. I’m intruding.
“Excuse me. I need to find Charlie,” I say.
Both of them turn toward me at the same time, as if they’ve forgotten I was in the room. “I think he’s finishing up in Room 4,” Trinity says.
“Thanks.” I move for the door. “I hope to see you both at the wedding.”
“Wedding?” she asks. “What?”
“Jeremiah can fill you in.” I give a slight wave.
I’m not even out the door before her attention is back on Jeremiah. He’s not complaining. For the first time in my memory, he doesn’t even notice me leave, let alone say goodbye. His cornflower blue eyes lock onto Trinity. I could be mistaken, but it looks to me like his old sunshine is finally back.