A few weeks later, as she is treating Vincent's wounds, she feels very glad that most of the cuts are healing nicely.
'Are you happy?' her charge asks her with a sonorous male voice, but a child-like inflection.
In reply, she hugs him lovingly.
'Very happy. Your wounds are almost better.'
His strong hand moves towards the only wound that is still not healed well, the one on his right temple. Adison takes his hand in both of her own.
'Please try not to touch it, dear. It might get infected again.'
He complains, 'It itches.'
'I know it itches, it is healing, and that always itches. I'll put some of that lotion on it, to cool it down.'
She lets go of his hand to fetch the bottle, then rubs it on the healing wound. Vincent clearly enjoys the feeling, laying his head on her lap and closing his eyes like a cat that is stroked the right way for as long as she touches the scar.
She rubs him a bit longer than is strictly necessary, pleased that she no longer needs to hurt him to keep the wounds clean. He has been through so much, and he has been so laid-back and patient about it, even sweet, that he deserves a soothing touch as well.
The wound is still a bit swollen, making him feverish and sleepy by spells, and Adison is concerned about possible scarring in such a visible place. When she stops, he looks at her.
'Will you read to me?'
'In a moment, dear, you go find a book,' she replies, clearing up the materials and straightening the bed. She settles on it, and Vincent hands her a volume of poetry, then reclines in her lap again.
'No, you're going to read to me, so you'd better sit up and hold the book.'
He does sit up, but in her arms. He clearly needs a lot of physical contact, just like a child.
'Into the woods, the lady ran,' he reads, then looks at her. Poetry seems a strange choice of teaching material, but teaching Vincent is not at all like teaching a child. He can concentrate much longer, and seems to already have a developed taste in literature, a decided preference for romantic poetry. And he seems to remember words and expressions, learning to speak really quickly, and learning to read and write easily too. He must have been literate, even well-read in his former life.
She remembers fondly how she has taught him to walk, which was not very difficult, his body being rather muscled and his balance quite good.
'What are you thinking of?' Vincent asks, 'you're thinking again.'
He is studying her with his weird yellow eyes, out of place in his innocent beardless face with its pale skin and hair growing in inky black.
She touches his face and says, 'I was thinking of the first time you walked'.
He remembers. 'It was easy, walking. Dressing was hard. Eating is good, except drinking milk, I don't like milk.'
'Luckily you don't have to drink it, my father always made me when I was young,'
Her father would laugh if he knew she was a governess after all, only raising an adult instead of a child. And no parents either, so maybe he'd count her lucky. But she hasn't written him the entire truth, just that she had a challenging case close to her room.
'You're doing it again, thinking,' she hears the clear baritone, 'let's play.'
She has taught Vincent wrestling, to help activate all his muscles after the weeks of healing and to keep the scars supple so they don't heal too tightly. But they love doing it ,too. She jumps him, pushing him flat on the bed. They struggle and roll, each now on top, now on the bottom. Adison suspects Vincent of cheating, letting her win every other round.
For he is clearly much stronger than she is, with his adult body, larger weight and longer limbs. But she admires him for already realizing that an even match is more fun than winning all the time. He is such a nice boy, and growing up so fast!
Suddenly, Vincent breaks off the match, and watches the stairs with trepidation. He no longer hides behind her when the doctor comes to check on them and to bring dinner, but he clearly doesn't like the visits.
'The doctor comes, ' he voices his disquiet.
'Why do you dislike him so, Vincent? He's never hurt you. I hurt you a lot treating those wounds, and you like me.'
He jumps her, and corrects her.
'I don't like you, I love you Adison!'
And again he evades the question.
'Try to be nice to him, Vincent, he is as concerned about you as I am,' Adison tells him, and it seems he really does try.
