Chapter 153
Jake left early in the morning for a meeting with the neighboring packs, taking Joseph and some of the council members with him. The air in the packhouse felt lighter in their absence, though I could hardly complain about Jake leaving—it wasn’t like he was much of a presence lately, anyway.
Tammy, surprisingly, had kept to herself after their departure, though I was sure she had some scheme brewing in her mind. Still, the silence was a welcome reprieve, and I was determined to make the most of it.
The day started peacefully enough. I spent my morning with the twins, reading stories to Lily and Logan while they babbled excitedly, pointing to the pictures. Their laughter was contagious, and for a little while, it felt like nothing could disrupt the calm.
But, of course, peace never lasts long in this house.
It started with a soft cough from one of the pack pups playing in the courtyard. I didn’t think much of it at first—kids cough all the time, right? But then another child coughed. Then another.
By lunchtime, the air was thick with worry. Sophie rushed into the kitchen where I was preparing a small snack for the twins, her face pale.
“Ayla,” she said, out of breath. “There’s something wrong. The kids—they’re all coughing.”
My heart sank. “What do you mean, all of them?”
“They’re saying it’s spreading. Fast,” she said, wringing her hands.
I wiped my hands on a towel and followed her outside. The sight that greeted me made my stomach drop.
Several pack pups were gathered in the courtyard, their parents hovering anxiously nearby. Most of the children were coughing, some wheezing, their little faces pale and sweaty. Panic rippled through the crowd as parents exchanged worried glances, unsure of what to do.
“Where’s the doctor?” I asked Sophie, trying to stay calm.
“With Jake,” she said grimly. “They won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest.”
Of course. Just my luck.
“We need to do something,” I said, my mind racing. “We can’t just stand here.”
“Do what?” Sophie said, throwing up her hands. “We don’t have the supplies, let alone the expertise!”
“Actually,” a voice cut in, “we do.”
I turned to see Tammy stepping forward, her expression uncharacteristically serious.
“I have medical training,” she said, her tone clipped but firm. “I can help.”
The courtyard fell silent. All eyes were on her, and for once, she wasn’t basking in the attention.
“You?” Sophie said, skepticism dripping from her voice.
“Yes, me,” Tammy snapped. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes but kept my mouth shut.
Tammy straightened her shoulders and addressed the crowd. “We need to separate the sick children from the healthy ones immediately. The last thing we want is for this to spread any further.”
Her authoritative tone surprised me, and from the looks on everyone’s faces, I wasn’t the only one.
With Tammy leading the charge, the courtyard transformed into a makeshift triage center. Parents carried their coughing children into one section while the healthy kids were ushered into another area.
“I need hot water, clean cloths, and any herbal remedies you can find,” Tammy instructed the workers. “And someone needs to boil water to sterilize anything we use.”
I watched in stunned silence as she moved efficiently, checking each child’s symptoms and offering comfort to the worried parents.
“Why are you just standing there?” Tammy barked at me.
I blinked, startled.
“Make yourself useful, Ayla,” she said, her tone sharp but not malicious.
I bit back a retort and got to work, fetching water and herbs from the storage room.
Hours passed, and to my surprise, Tammy’s knowledge and dedication never wavered. She worked tirelessly, her usual smugness replaced by a quiet determination.
“Here,” she said, handing me a bowl of herbal paste. “Rub this on their chests—it’ll help with the coughing.”
I nodded, taking the bowl and moving to the nearest child. As I worked, I couldn’t help but glance at Tammy, who was crouched beside another child, gently wiping their forehead with a damp cloth.
For the first time, I saw a side of her that wasn’t calculated or manipulative. She was kind, patient, and surprisingly capable.
By the time evening rolled around, the coughing had subsided, and most of the children were resting peacefully. The courtyard was quiet, the earlier chaos replaced by a sense of tentative relief.
“You did good,” I found myself saying to Tammy as we cleaned up the supplies.
She glanced at me, her expression unreadable. “I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know,” I said. “But you still helped.”
For a moment, I thought she might say something snarky, but instead, she just nodded and went back to work.
Later that night, I sat in the living room, cradling a sleeping Lily while Logan dozed in Sophie’s arms. Fatima joined us, her face etched with exhaustion but also gratitude.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Fatima said, “but Tammy actually saved the day.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I muttered, earning a chuckle from Sophie.
But deep down, I couldn’t deny it—Tammy had surprised me. Maybe there was more to her than I’d realized.
The next morning, the packhouse was buzzing with whispers about Tammy’s efforts. Even the workers, who were usually the target of her sharp tongue, seemed to regard her with a newfound respect.
As for me, I wasn’t sure what to think. Tammy had shown a side of herself that I didn’t know existed, and while I wasn’t ready to trust her, I couldn’t deny that she had been a genuine help.
But there was still a nagging feeling in the back of my mind—a sense that this wasn’t the whole story.
And as I watched Tammy move through the packhouse with an air of quiet confidence, I couldn’t help but wonder: Was this the real Tammy, or just another act?
Only time would tell.
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