Rise of the Phoenix novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: Ninety-Eight Point Six

Hedda gave us the tack room and a thermometer.

"Concrete floor," she said, handing me a flashlight. "Cinder-block walls, no hay, and a mattress I will burn myself if you ruin it. Be adults."

"We are adults," I said.

"Then act like it, and keep it inside."

She stomped off in her slippers, and I stood there holding a plastic thermometer.

Garth was already in the tack room, sitting on the edge of an old double mattress under a pile of wool blankets.

He had showered in cold water at the pump and shaved the beard down short.

His black hair hung loose over his collar.

He looked so tired and so hopeful that I forgot every sensible thing I had planned to say.

"She gave you the thermometer," he said.

"She gave us a thermometer."

"Take my temperature."

"Now?"

"Humor me."

I tucked the little glass tip under his tongue, and we waited.

I read it by the flashlight.

"Ninety-one point four."

"Good day." He took the thermometer from me and set it on the shelf.

"Three days ago it was ninety. Hedda says if I hit eighty-five, she'll drive me to a hospital."

"Would a hospital help?"

"No." He looked at his hands. "That's why she'd do it."

I sat down on the mattress and took both of his hands in mine.

They were cool and dry and shaking very slightly.

"Tell me what you want," I said.

He didn't answer for a moment.

"You," he said. "I've wanted you since the third week. Since you told the wall about the dog."

"That's a strange thing to want somebody for."

"You laughed in the middle of it. Out loud. In that place." His mouth moved.

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