Page 67 of Harley

Phoe fussed around, puffing up pillows to support her and tucking Aspen in. I smiled as Aspen seemed bewildered. Neither set of our parents had behaved like Phoe.

“Snack time is late!” Archer exploded suddenly. He threw the yellow car on the floor.

“Archer, pick that up immediately!” Aspen called from the bed.

Archer crossed his arms. “You can’t say we are returning to my old routine and then be late!” he yelled.

“That is enough!” Aspen said firmly. “What did Auntie Oak and I tell you about other people’s houses?”

Archer jutted out his lip and lifted his chin.

“Oh, boy, I’ve seen that look plenty of times,” Phoe murmured with a chuckle.

“Snap,” I whispered, staying out of this. I knew not to interfere because it undermined Aspen’s influence and authority over Archer.

“Answer me!” Aspen demanded.

“In other people’s houses, my routine may run late because they don’t understand. So, we have to help them,” Archer said.

Archer turned to Phoe as Drake came through the door with Harley and Doc Gibbons on his heels.

Studying the wall just past Phoe, Archer continued. “Miss Phoe, I have autism. That means my routine is very important as it makes me feel safe and gives me a sense of control. It helps stop my anxiety and stops me from getting frustrated.”

Phoe raised her eyebrows as Archer quoted what we’d told him by rote. Yeah, Archer wasn’t stupid.

I nodded my approval at Archer as Aspen praised him. “Well done.”

“Uncle Harley, I have two hot cross buns cut in half with butter. I’m allowed to put the butter on, and I don’t have jelly or anything else on them. Mommy also lets me have a cup of tea, with milk and one level teaspoon of sugar. You stir it to the righteight times to help the sugar melt. I need a napkin with a saucer, so the tea doesn’t spill,” Archer requested.

“Manners,” Aspen ordered.

“Please and hurry up, snack time is late,” Archer said.

Drake chuckled, easing my worry at Archer’s behaviour. He could be perceived as rude, but actually, Archer wasn’t. As mentioned, he’d no idea of social skills.

Archer didn’t even acknowledge Drake’s existence.

“That explanation was amazing,” Phoe murmured.

“It was something we drummed into him after Archer’s first meltdown at someone’s house. Archer learned to explain, and people began to understand better,” I explained.

“That’s a good thing,” Drake agreed.

Doc Gibbons was fussing over Aspen, taking her blood pressure and temperature again. He inserted a cannula and fixed up a fluid drip. After speaking to Aspen in a low voice, he approached us.

“Aspen should be in a hospital. She’s dangerously underweight and dehydrated. Add in the medication they’ve had her on, and I’m concerned about a heart attack. I am going to order some equipment here from Lynda, and we’ll monitor her heartbeat. For now, Aspen needs five to six small meals a day.

“The urge will be to feed her big, hearty meals. That’s a mistake and will harm her further. Aspen needs plain foods—toast, eggs, rice and chicken, plain soups not rich and creamy, no caffeine either. Keep Aspen on water with only one glass of milk a day. If you have caffeine-free or camomile tea, Aspen may have that. I’ll speak to Mrs Ames about Aspen’s diet. As soon as she gains weight, we can reassess,” he said.

I glanced at Harley, and he moved behind me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

“The medication?”

“That will have to continue for now. Taking Aspen off it in this weak state might cause a stroke or, again, a heart attack. Today she’s skipped her afternoon slot and has the shakes from doing so. Here’re some tablets. There’s enough for two days. Aspen’s used to taking them every eight hours. Six in the morning, two in the afternoon and ten at night. We’ll keep to those times, but I’ve lowered the dosage. Oakley, it may feel like we are continuing the abuse, but we’re not. We’re weaning Aspen off slowly, so her body doesn’t revolt,” Doc Gibbons explained.

“I understand,” I said, but I still turned my head as Harley gave Aspen her dose.

I hated this. That everything was so unsettled. That Aspen was clearly unwell and had been abused while my parents dined off their blood money. Grandad would be appalled if he’d known what would happen to us. Grandad taught us not to hate, to rise above and be better. But this… no, I couldn’t overcome this.

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