Free Acceptable Risks by Natalie J. Damschroder Page A

tell you a few things he won’t, and I have a conference call in a few minutes, so I don’t have much time.”
Lark glanced at her watch, but the time didn’t matter. The call was probably with someone in Asia. “Medical?” she guessed. What else would a macho guy keep to himself?
“He’s still at high risk of infection,” her father confirmed. “His immunization schedule isn’t complete, and he had a splenectomy as well as all the bone breaks.”
The hair on her skin stood on end, accompanied by a wave of dread. Just like her mother. “How bad was he, Dad?”
“He was nearly dead, Lark. Only a very powerful will kept him alive, I think.”
He didn’t say whose will.
She swallowed. “What do I need to do?”
“Watch him for symptoms. Fever, fatigue, anything that seems flu-ish, make him come back here.”
She closed her eyes and tried not to think of her mother, to remember her last horrible days. Responsibility settled on her shoulders, a strangely familiar mantle. “I thought we are going there,” she managed, forcing her mind on the here and now. Hummingbird would be the safest place for her, wouldn’t it?
“You will, but probably not to stay. I don’t know yet. I’m working on some things.”
“Okay.” She straightened, focused again. “What else?”
“He can’t take a blow to the chest. His sternum is weak, and his heart suffered some trauma from the initial impact. Another hit, not even very strong, could send him into V-tach.”
“I should carry an AED. Got it.”
“I’m not joking around here, Lark.”
“Neither am I, Dad.” Not that she knew where to get an AED, or how practical it would be to carry one. But how likely was it that he’d get hit in the chest again? “Does he need meds or anything?”
“No, he’s fine physically. More than fine. He was running sixteen miles an hour this morning.”
She whistled. “You gave him super powers?”
“No, don’t be silly. But the muscle fibers and the bone glue have made him stronger, more powerful, gave him more endurance. And we have no idea what else the regeneration therapy might have done.”
“Besides grow nerve tissue?”
“Yeah.” A phone rang in the background. Her father paused, probably checking who it was, then said, “I’ve got to go. But sweetie, we’re not sure about his mental status. He hasn’t really dealt with the reality of not dying, and everything that goes with it.”
Lark kept her voice low. “What do you mean? Could he be unstable? Explode in anger or something?” She couldn’t imagine it, but then, she hadn’t seen him in years.
“I don’t know. I trust him, Lark. He’s there to take care of you. But he needs you to take care of him, too.”
She couldn’t help a smile. “You know I will, Dad.”
“Thank you, sweetie. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
“That’s just so damned sweet,” Jason said from the doorway. “Water or soda? They haven’t stocked anything perishable.”
“Water’s fine.” She went back into the kitchen and inhaled the spicy pizza scent. “God, I’m hungry.”
“Here.” He held out a bag of cashews, and she took a handful. “You wanna talk now or wait until we eat?”
“I’m bursting with desire…” She tossed a few nuts into her mouth and gave a little moan at the explosion of flavor. Jason’s eyes darkened. “…to bombard you with questions,” she finished. “But I can wait. Eating won’t take long.”
It didn’t. They devoured all but two pieces of the pie, which Jason wrapped in plastic and stuck in the fridge. In silent agreement, they went onto the back deck with bottles of water and sat in the Adirondack chairs looking out over a wide, flat yard shadowed by the remnants of the mid-June sun. Lark realized she was tired. She’d had a big day, what with people trying to abduct her and coming back from the dead and all.
She covered a yawn and said, “Where do we start?”
“Where do you want to start?”
The coming-back-from-the-dead stuff was