Chapter 25
The question lingers, full of forbidden promise. I see it in his eyes, every time I change his dressings. Thankfully Sarah, or one of the other Amish siblings are always present every time I go in to see Caleb with his pants off.
He watches me now with an unabashed grin, his blue eyes dancing with the question. I glance, pink-faced at his mother who hovers around us like an anxious broody hen. Has she noticed? How could any of them not notice for the last week, her son has turned into a flirt?
I poke at the angry red wound which came frightfully close to puncturing the femoral artery. A half-inch to the left, and Caleb would have bled out even quicker than the pig. Two inches to the right, and Caleb would have been singing soprano. An area he keeps artfully hidden beneath a b
