up over his hips and quickly fastened the buttons. He started out the door in a slow shuffling step.
Pain radiated from his bullet wound. Darkness nipped at the edges of his vision. He could hear conversation and someone crying. As he reached the entryway, Cindy came in carrying Allison in her arms.
The little girl was sobbing. She clung to her mother as blood oozed from a scrape on her knee. Behind them, Jonathan and a couple of other kids he didn’t know trailed in. Cindy looked up and saw him.
“Mike, could you bring that box of medical supplies into the kitchen, please?” Before he answered, she looked over her shoulder. “Billy and Ashley, you’re going to have to go home now. Jonathan, shut the door.”
Mike headed for the bathroom. By the time he got to the kitchen, he was breathing hard and hanging on to walls for support. Jonathan stood by the entrance to the family room, just watching. Cindy had settled on one of the kitchen chairs, with Allison’s injured leg propped up on the one next to it. Using a damp washcloth to wipe away the dirt, Cindy cleaned the still-bleeding wound.
Mike shuffled forward and placed the first-aid kit on the table. Cindy glanced up at him. Her green eyes widened. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Take a seat.”
He sank onto the chair across from hers.
Allison’s cries had quieted to sniffles, but she still kept her face buried in her mother’s neck. She winced as the washcloth touched her scrape.
“Hush, baby girl,” Cindy murmured. “It’s going to be all right.”
She reached for the antiseptic and dampened a cotton ball. Mike flinched, knowing what was coming. He’d treated some bad wounds before, but those had been on adults. This was seven-year-old Allison who came to visit him every morning and told him about her imaginary friend, Shelby. He hated to see her face streaked with tears.
“Take a deep breath,” Cindy warned, then touched the cotton to the scrape. Allison shook all over. She sucked in another breath, then let it out in a hiccuped sob.
“I know,” her mother told her. “Almost done. You’re going to be fine, although I don’t think you’ll be swimming this afternoon.”
“Can I still have cookies?” Allison asked, then sniffed.
“Sure.” Cindy opened a bandage and placed it over the scrape. After smoothing it in place, she hugged her daughter close.
Mike stared at the pair. He felt something odd inside. A hollowness, as if he was just now noticing a piece that had been missing from his life for a long time. The ache felt old and bitterly familiar. It came from being on the outside looking in.
As Cindy held her child and rocked her, light brown hair fell over blond. Her voice was soft as she hummed tunelessly. He could hear Allison’s breathing calm.
The girl opened her eyes and looked at him. A single tear dripped onto her mother’s shoulder.
“Better?” he asked.
Allison nodded.
It was as if a giant fist were squeezing his heart. Maybe it was seeing all he’d never had. Not just the house, although his family had been poor. He’d grown up in a one-bedroom apartment, sleeping on the sofa, or the floor of his mother’s room if she was entertaining. He’d always felt passed over in the business of her life. First she’d been working so much, then she’d remarried and had Grace. Her new child had claimed her time. Funny, he’d never blamed his half sister for that.
Watching Cindy hold Allison reminded him of all he’d missed. The caring, the bond between a mother and child. The love. Until that moment, he’d forgotten the emotion even existed.
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