expected. Not because they ran out of time or money. They’d run out of stores. He’d bought every toy and item of clothing even remotely suitable, and he was done shopping because there wasn’t anything left to buy.
He’d likely also singlehandedly revitalized the local economy.
While the various shopkeepers set about gift-wrapping his thousand-and-one purchases, he took his troops for a stroll about town. Hand in hand, he and Sarah led the way across cracked or missing sidewalks, past a barbershop and a bakery, over a well-worn soccer field, through a mildly graffitied town square.
To a Californian, the impoverished pueblo left much to be desired. To kids who didn’t even take nonleaking roofs for granted, it was nothing short of Wonderland.
They loved the school, with its crayons and books and cafeteria. They loved the church, with its lights and nativity and stained glass. They loved the park, with its concrete benches and trimmed grass and mosaic foun—
“Hey!” he shouted, sprinting toward them. “Don’t drink out of the fountain!”
Too late.
The older kids had dipped their hands in, telltale wetness still clinging to their palms and chins. The smaller kids had pushed up on their toes, leaning their bellies over the side of the fountain to dunk their faces directly into the water.
The slightly murky, slightly oily, peppered-with-rusted-pennies-and-bird-droppings water.
“Oh, God.”
The kids had stopped when he’d shouted, but Jack pulled them away from the edge anyway, as if mere proximity was a health risk.
Sarah jogged up beside him. “What’s wrong?”
He gestured into the basin.
“They drank the water?” She recoiled. “Gross.”
“Very. This water cannot possibly be healthy.” He ran a hand through his hair. He sat down on the edge of the fountain, only to leap right back up. “I brought them here to give them some fun, not to poison them. Are they going to get sick? They won’t die, will they?”
She blinked. Her lower lip moved speechlessly.
“Oh, right. You can’t tell me, and you wouldn’t help even if you could. Your miracles can only assist me .” He didn’t bother to mask the bitterness in his voice. He wasn’t even sure he could. The “rules” might not be her fault, but that didn’t make it fair. Or right.
He’d spoken to Sarah in English, but it didn’t matter. The children were all staring up at him, round-eyed and nervous. One of them started to cough. Probably unrelated, he guessed, but still. Not good.
The oldest two—a girl and a boy who’d been coconspirators in the mistletoe game—seemed to be the only ones to put together the meaning behind his warning. The girl took a second glance at the water she’d been drinking and quickly turned away, as if nauseous. The boy laughed at her, but wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as if wiping away a taste gone sour.
Jack tried to think. Maybe they would be fine, and maybe they wouldn’t. He was a billionaire, not a nutritionist, but he’d have to be blind not to see the potential for trouble. But what could he do? Sarah couldn’t help him because of the stupid rules, and he was fresh out of magic wands to whisk away all his troubles.
Or was he?
He slanted a considering glance toward Sarah’s concerned face. She wanted to help. He could see it in her worried expression, in the tightness of her shoulders, the way her fingers twitched as if itching to purify the water.
Well, he’d just have to make it easier for her to do so.
He sat back down on the edge of the fountain. “I’m going to drink some.”
“Don’t even think about it.” She dug her fingers into his sleeve. “People die from contaminated water.”
“Exactly.”
Before he could change his mind, he plunged his cupped hands into the grimy water and raised them to his lips. She’d either have to purify the water supply or risk him catching whatever diseases it contained. He lifted his hands to his open mouth—
And
He’d likely also singlehandedly revitalized the local economy.
While the various shopkeepers set about gift-wrapping his thousand-and-one purchases, he took his troops for a stroll about town. Hand in hand, he and Sarah led the way across cracked or missing sidewalks, past a barbershop and a bakery, over a well-worn soccer field, through a mildly graffitied town square.
To a Californian, the impoverished pueblo left much to be desired. To kids who didn’t even take nonleaking roofs for granted, it was nothing short of Wonderland.
They loved the school, with its crayons and books and cafeteria. They loved the church, with its lights and nativity and stained glass. They loved the park, with its concrete benches and trimmed grass and mosaic foun—
“Hey!” he shouted, sprinting toward them. “Don’t drink out of the fountain!”
Too late.
The older kids had dipped their hands in, telltale wetness still clinging to their palms and chins. The smaller kids had pushed up on their toes, leaning their bellies over the side of the fountain to dunk their faces directly into the water.
The slightly murky, slightly oily, peppered-with-rusted-pennies-and-bird-droppings water.
“Oh, God.”
The kids had stopped when he’d shouted, but Jack pulled them away from the edge anyway, as if mere proximity was a health risk.
Sarah jogged up beside him. “What’s wrong?”
He gestured into the basin.
“They drank the water?” She recoiled. “Gross.”
“Very. This water cannot possibly be healthy.” He ran a hand through his hair. He sat down on the edge of the fountain, only to leap right back up. “I brought them here to give them some fun, not to poison them. Are they going to get sick? They won’t die, will they?”
She blinked. Her lower lip moved speechlessly.
“Oh, right. You can’t tell me, and you wouldn’t help even if you could. Your miracles can only assist me .” He didn’t bother to mask the bitterness in his voice. He wasn’t even sure he could. The “rules” might not be her fault, but that didn’t make it fair. Or right.
He’d spoken to Sarah in English, but it didn’t matter. The children were all staring up at him, round-eyed and nervous. One of them started to cough. Probably unrelated, he guessed, but still. Not good.
The oldest two—a girl and a boy who’d been coconspirators in the mistletoe game—seemed to be the only ones to put together the meaning behind his warning. The girl took a second glance at the water she’d been drinking and quickly turned away, as if nauseous. The boy laughed at her, but wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as if wiping away a taste gone sour.
Jack tried to think. Maybe they would be fine, and maybe they wouldn’t. He was a billionaire, not a nutritionist, but he’d have to be blind not to see the potential for trouble. But what could he do? Sarah couldn’t help him because of the stupid rules, and he was fresh out of magic wands to whisk away all his troubles.
Or was he?
He slanted a considering glance toward Sarah’s concerned face. She wanted to help. He could see it in her worried expression, in the tightness of her shoulders, the way her fingers twitched as if itching to purify the water.
Well, he’d just have to make it easier for her to do so.
He sat back down on the edge of the fountain. “I’m going to drink some.”
“Don’t even think about it.” She dug her fingers into his sleeve. “People die from contaminated water.”
“Exactly.”
Before he could change his mind, he plunged his cupped hands into the grimy water and raised them to his lips. She’d either have to purify the water supply or risk him catching whatever diseases it contained. He lifted his hands to his open mouth—
And
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