Page 67 of Lotus

Sydney approaches me with tentative feet, her lip caught between her teeth. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Should I go?”

“No, no… stay. You’re fine.” I pet the animal, soothing it with whispers and hushes. “It’s been injured.”

“Should I call a vet? Or a wildlife sanctuary?”

“No, I’ve got it.” I lower the raccoon to my carpeted floor and carefully unravel the covering. I immediately notice two puncture wounds along its abdomen as I lay it on its side, discarding the blood-stained towel. “It has a bite mark. A coyote, perhaps.”

“Stitches?” Sydney wonders, kneeling down beside us, her hands placed atop her denim thighs as she watches with guarded curiosity.

“No. Puncture wounds cannot be stitched. The risk of infection is too great.”

“Oh…”

I glance at her, wondering if she can help. “Do you happen to have a crate or a carrier? One that Alexis may have used?”

Sydney nods, already rising to her feet. “I do. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.”

While she’s gone, I carry the raccoon into the bathroom and tend to the injury, applying a gentle pressure to the puncture marks to halt the blood with a clean, damp towel, then rinsing the wound under warm water. The animal does not try to escape as we climb into the bathtub and I lie back against the fawn tiles, holding her to my chest. She’s a female, I’ve determined.

She squeaks out curious noises as I stroke her fur, her arms wrapping around my bicep as she tries to climb me. Her nails poke through my running shirt, her little hands stretched and trembling mildly.

“It’s all right. You’re going to be just fine,” I say in a muted tone, the rumble of my chest calming the animal until she stills in contentment.

There’s a knock at the bathroom door, and I usher Sydney inside. I can’t help but smile at the look of amazement sweeping over her features when her eyes meet mine inside the porcelain tub. The raccoon is snuggled to my chest, her charcoal nose jabbed into the crook of my armpit. It must be a bizarre sight to see.

“Um, the crate is all set up in your bedroom,” Sydney explains, sliding her fingertips into her back pockets. Her gaze roves over me with silent questions, her footsteps uncertain as she approaches. “Is there anything I can do? This is a little outside my expertise, but I’d like to help…” she offers.

A nod towards the medicine cabinet has her following my signal. “There’s a first aid kit in the mirrored cupboard. Would you mind bringing it to me?”

Sydney is quick to assist, carrying it over, then kneeling beside the bathtub. She opens the top and sifts through the contents when I request an antiseptic and a bandage. Applying a thin layer of antibiotic cream with my right hand, the raccoon held tightly in my left, the animal only squirms for a moment before quieting her movements and nuzzling back into my chest. Sydney adheres the bandage a few moments later, her fingers quivering as she works. It’s strange to see her nervous, while I’m so calm—it feels backwards.

Sydney finishes the task and moves away, her hands falling to the edge of the tub while she stares down in wonder at the contented raccoon lying peacefully against me like a small child.

“This is incredible. You’re like a raccoon whisperer,” she breathes out, enchantment lacing every word. “Aren’t you afraid it could have rabies?”

A quick shake of my head dismisses that theory. “No. She’s showing no signs of disease.”

“It’s a ‘she’?”

“Yes. We should think of a name for her, don’t you think?”

We share a glance, and Sydney removes a rogue wisp of hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. She looks back to the raccoon, her smile whimsical. “She looks smart,” Sydney decides, her head tilting a little to the right. “She has wise eyes. Like you.”

Her compliment dances across my heart, prompting my own smile to spread.Wise eyes. I thought the same thing. “Athena,” I say. “The Goddess of Wisdom.”

Sydney’s eyes twinkle in agreement, her hand lifting from the tub towards the animal in my arms. She falters, peeking over at me for permission. “Can I pet her?”

I note the touch of pink in her cheeks, the nibble to her bottom lip, the tips of her hair grazing the top of my shoulder. I swallow through my consent. “Yes. She’s very docile.”

Her features brighten, accentuating her dimples and the tiny divot below her lip. When the pads of her fingers make contact with the fur behind Athena’s ear, Sydney lets out a breathy gasp, as if the moment is profound to her.

She turns to me, our faces so close I’m afraid to pull my eyes to hers. The magnetism is too strong, the distance between us too slight. If I look at her now, I’ll be lost.

But I do. And I am.

The beats of my heart flounder when we catch and hold, and not because I’m lying in a bathtub with a wild mammal in my arms—no, it’s because Sydney’s heated stare is burning a hole right through me, her eyes blue embers, her charmed smile slipping into something else.

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