Masters at Arms - By Kallypso Masters Page 0,13

hand me one of the swabs.”

Her mother handed her a cellophane package with two Q-tips inside. With great reluctance, Karla tore her gaze away from Adam's chest, then, realizing how important this was, went to work with a new sense of purpose. If only her hands would quit shaking. She wanted to do this right. What if she didn’t and he got an infection and a fever and maybe even died, all because his cut lip wasn’t cleaned properly?

Without touching the cotton ends, she handed one swab to her mom and watched her dip it in a bottle of alcohol. She knew from experience that was going to hurt like a mother.

“This is going to sting,” Mom warned.

You’d better believe it. Her mom rubbed the wet cotton over his split lip, holding his chin to keep him steady. Karla wished she could touch him like that. He closed his eyes, but didn’t make a sound. Her stomach muscles clenched, as if she were experiencing the pain for him.

“There.” Her mom laid the Q-tip on the paper towel she’d placed on the table. “Now let’s get some antibiotic ointment on that lip.”

Karla saw the tinge of pink on the Q-tip. Adam’s blood. Tears sprang to her eyes. He’d been hurt because of her stupidity. She wished there was something more she could do to help him. She certainly couldn’t kiss his lip and make it better. Although the thought caused her stomach to flutter again, like a flock of the butterflies was trying to escape. She flushed in embarrassment.

What would her friends think when they heard about her adventures with an older man tonight? And a Marine. Oh, my! They would be so jealous, especially when she told them he looked like Mark Harmon. Only Adam acted much more mature and noble than the Dr. McNeil character did.

Her mom brushed her thumb across the red marks on Adam's shoulder. “Not much I can do for the bruising, but I don’t think there’s a hematoma.”

Karla’s attention went to the long, thin mark where he'd been jabbed by something with evenly spaced points. Then she remembered that one of the guys he had fought with had been wearing brass knuckles. Her knees buckled at the thought of them tearing into Adam's shoulder.

“Whoa, hon!” Adam reached out and grabbed her elbows to hold her steady. “Not too fond of the sight of blood?”

Karla felt her mom’s scrutiny, but couldn’t take her eyes off Adam. Where he held her arms, a tingle of electricity zinged up to her shoulders and neck, then down to her…. Oh, my!

“What's the matter with you, Karla?” Mom asked. “You've seen plenty of blood. Ian was always getting patched up.”

"I’m okay,” she whispered, because of the frog lodged in her throat. He smiled at her and she felt tears dripping down her face. He’d taken that hit on his shoulder for her. She ached to press her lips against it, the way her mother had kissed her boo-boos as a kid. Usually, the pain magically went away. She wanted to take Adam’s pain away.

He reached up and wiped the tears away from her face with his thumbs. She caught her breath, then totally forgot to breathe for a moment.

“I’m okay, hon. Believe me, this is nothing.”

"You should see ..." her mom began.

Adam reached out and placed a hand on Mom’s arm. They exchanged a look, as if they shared a secret Karla wasn't in on. Mom nodded. Karla felt the green-eyed monster of jealousy for the first time in her life.

More tears welled in her eyes. Frustration at not being able to touch him, to comfort him, or even to get him to notice her as a woman, ate at her. She was still just a kid in his eyes. If she touched him the way she wanted, he’d think she was a freak.

But that just made her want to touch him even more.

* * *

Adam tried to stay out of everyone’s way on Thanksgiving morning. He’d managed to catch a few hours of dreamless sleep, which was more than he could say for the last few months. Then Karla’s relatives had started arriving—grandmother, uncle, aunt, cousins. Adam hadn’t been in a huge family gathering for Thanksgiving since he was a kid, and he was feeling a bit claustrophobic.

Adam knew her family meant well, but he counted the hours until he could get on that bus tonight and start making his way home to Pendleton. He grabbed his jacket and