I was our Gypsy Leader 1 - My reincarnated Soul Mate - 9. Chapter 9. Little Harry's burns; and taking him home.

Involuntarily feeling a bit shaky, I left Trudy, entered the hallway, and climbed the stairs to the second floor where John's bedroom was. Feeling like an intruder, I opened the second door to the left and then peeked inside... First, I saw John, peacefully sleeping in the nearest bed with his head just above the blankets. Where was my little soul mate, and why didn't he sleep next to John? John once told me that his little brother always crawled into his bed at night, because he used to sleep next to his Big Friend and he hated sleeping alone...

Then, I saw my little soul mate, lying on his back in another bed. His vulnerable looking small head nearly disappeared into his pillow, while his also burnt mouth with its crumpled lips showed a faint smile. Again feeling all mushy and full of love, I stepped inside, clicked the lights on, and stared at the softly snoring boy that from now on would be 'my boy'. In his sleep, he had thrown his blankets halfway back; so that, for the first time, I could see some more of his burnt body.

At that same moment when I saw Harry's burnt chest for the first time, I felt even more shocked! My own little brother had been burnt mainly on his face, his throat, and his hands; but my boy seemed to be burnt absolutely everywhere! Several scars of past operations and lots of still growing wild flesh showed on his tainted and colored chest. A few ribs were visible through his thin skin that also looked strained and too tight to be comfortable. I couldn't imagine how many more operations this poor child would have to endure in his future!

After a moment of swallowing my involuntarily upcoming tears, I decided to try to see some more of his badly burnt body before I woke him up, so that I would be used to seeing him and he wouldn't have to see my shocked face. Carefully, so as not to wake him up, I lifted his blankets even further away... Then, I quickly covered his naked body, because I found out that this sleeping boy was wearing nothing at all! To me, with my too strict and puritanical upbringing, looking at such an unclad body was VERY inappropriate, almost as if I committed a deadly SIN by violating this tiny child's personal privacy...

Only, what should I do now? Should I return downstairs and ask Trudy to help me dress the naked child? Or, should I wake John and ask my young friend to help me dress his totally nude little brother? Unexpectedly, my boy moved in his sleep, first mumbled something unintelligibly, and then again threw his blankets halfway back.

Again, I could see my boy's so terribly burnt chest; although I still hadn't seen the rest of his burnt body, except for seeing some reddish stains in the split second that I had peeked under his blankets... Out of the blue, old memories showed up in my inside, of me washing and drying my own burnt little brother and even wiping his little behind after he had visited the bathroom, because he couldn't do this himself anymore whilst having only two small stumps instead of hands. Then, happier pictures showed up, of my own little daughters being in their carefree youth full of love and happiness, waiting for me to dry them after showering or playing outside in our swimming pool. At that time, I had never felt shy about seeing any unclad children!

Then, a warm and soulful sounding voice in my inside told me:

"My dear brother, please stop being shy and just take another look at your son's burns, before he wakes up and sees your shocked face."

Was really Jack's spirit around my sleeping boy and me, who once was my burnt little brother and also had been my boy's Big Friend? But, then, even Jack didn't mind me seeing my boy's unclad body, so why should I? Feeling reassured and thankful for our Spirit Guide being around us and also helping me take such an unusual decision, I decided to listen to Jack's warm and soulful sounding voice. Besides, even Trudy had trusted me with this nude boy, although she probably knew that he would sleep like this, but also anticipated that I wouldn't mind and just get him dressed! Only my too puritanical upbringing was now preventing me from looking at any unclad bodies, unless those unclad bodies belonged to 'my own flesh and blood'...

Again, I lifted my boy's blankets away from his unclad chest; and, again, I felt shocked when I could see the rest of the naked child. His so badly damaged little body was a terrible sight to look at, even more than my own burnt little brother had been! His entire belly looked purple and reddish, while his right hip showed an ugly mixture of raw wild flesh and nasty scars in all different colors. His left leg seemed to be less affected by the fire, but his right one looked like a total mess of still growing wild flesh and all sorts of ugly scars. Staring at the terrible sight of such a devastated body, I nearly started to cry again. This was not what I had expected to see while remembering my own burnt little brother! After taking a deep breath, I first pulled myself together. Then, I discarded my emotions and quickly dried my again upcoming tears, because I wanted to be strong for my boy. Gently, I caressed his little face, until he started to fidget and yawn. Bending over towards him, I whispered into his ear:

"Harry? Do you remember me? This evening, you've asked me to take you home. That is, if you still want to join me..."

Very much to my delight, my boy woke up almost immediately. For a second, he rubbed his squinting eyes with the backs of his hands. Then, he opened them wide and looked up at me. A broad smile from ear to ear told me that he recognized me and felt truly happy to see me! First, he threw his blankets aside, without any shame about being totally naked. Then, he stretched his small arms out towards me, as if asking me to take him into my arms and give him a cuddle.

Of course, I did what my boy so clearly wanted me to do. Gently, I took him into my arms, sat down on a corner of his bed, and lifted him onto my lap, this time facing me. Again feeling all mushy and full of tender loving care for my boy, I kissed his scarred forehead. Immediately smiling even broader, my boy lifted his head and kissed me back, of course again full on my lips! Fortunately, and very much to my relief, my too puritanical inside seemed to have learnt its lesson and didn't overreact anymore. Without using any more words, I just accepted his kiss, which felt like sealing our eternal friendship.

After some more cuddling, my boy suddenly asked me:

"Am I going to live with you now, in Jack's former house?"

Secretly hoping that my boy would want to say 'yes', I first crossed my fingers behind my back, before I responded:

"Do you really want to live with me from now on?"

Immediately, and without any hesitancy, my boy answered:

"Of course, silly, as I've already told you before!"

Again showing me a beaming face and sparkling bright blue eyes, he slid off my lap, went towards a chair, and just started to put on his clothes. In the meantime, he talked, with a deep baritone voice and a strange but pleasant sounding outlandish accent. Now and then, he mispronounced a difficult word, or he didn't know where to put the correct accent, but that just added to his being a truly special child. If possibly, I started to appreciate him even more for being like this! While donning his clothes, he explained that he always slept naked because his burns started to itch under too much pressure or in a too warm bed. Jack used to massage his scars with some soothing oil, but, after Jack's death, nobody knew where the bottle was, not even John. To lessen any excessive pressure on his also burnt belly, Jack always bought underwear for him that was at least two sizes too big.

But, whenever possible, he preferred to walk around without any clothes at all, to feel even freer and unrestrained. Normally, he hated sleeping alone. Therefore, he always slept next to John in John's bed. Only, tonight, he knew I was going to take him home, and he didn't want to wake his big brother. Therefore, he had slept in his own bed until I woke him up. All his belongings were stowed away in John's garage while they had to share John's bedroom. But, of course, from now on, he could have his own room back in Jack's house! Oops, sorry... He could now have his own room back in OUR house!

Very much to my delight, my boy seemed to be extremely bright, next to being an amazingly deep thinker and also a truly entertaining conversationalist. When he had to stop his ongoing waterfall of words to take a breath, I quickly jumped in to ask him my own questions. One by one, he first thought all my questions over carefully, before coming back with a truly intelligent and surprisingly direct answer. Then, as if taking revenge, he started to ask me his own questions! Was I married, where was my wife, did I have children, where were they, did I have plans to remarry, and what did I do for a living? Did I earn enough money to maintain Jack's former house, what did I need such a big house for, and did I have any plans for our future? And, most important, did I have a computer with lots of adventure games, because John didn't have any and they both loved to play them?

My little soul mate seemed to be a very thoughtful, always funny, and also extremely intelligent little soldier, so that I already started to like his happy antics very much! When he was dressed up sufficiently to enter the cold evening, I took him into the hallway, where I lifted him onto my shoulders. Without any hesitation, my boy just clamped his hands around my forehead, as if he had done this all his life, with his little feet dangling free. Together, we went downstairs, on our way trying to tickle each other and again having lots of fun.

Just before entering the living room, I put him back onto his feet, to avoid him bumping his head against the doorpost. Hand in hand, we opened the door and entered the living room. Eric seemed to have left, because the room was now silent, except for some nice sounding background music. Trudy sat on her usual couch, but this time she tried to hide her teary face and puffy eyes full of tears, only now and then wiping them dry with an already wet handkerchief. My little soul mate went to Trudy, stopped for a second to look at her sad face and teary eyes, and then consolingly put his small arms around her neck. Loud enough to be heard by me, he whispered into her ear:

"Just let your feelings go, Mom, and don't bottle them up. That way, you will soon feel much better."

Still trying to hide her puffy eyes from our vision, Trudy smiled at hearing such a 'wise advice' coming from such a tiny child; but then she hugged him back and told him he was a very lucky boy.

"Yes, I certainly am!" my boy responded while he started to yawn, "But I am too drowsy to talk, so for now I just want to go home to get some more sleep. Tomorrow morning, I will return here to collect my belongings and perhaps talk some more if still needed."

Involuntarily, I got tears in my eyes at hearing my upcoming little 'psychotherapist' saying he wanted to go HOME. To me, there had always been a difference between a 'house' and a 'home'. Until now, I never had a real 'home', but always just lived in my 'house'. Hopefully, now that my again yawning little soul mate started living with me, Jack's former abode would turn into a real 'home'!

After stealthily wiping my teary eyes and swallowing to clear my choking voice, I went to Trudy and thanked her for trusting me with her former tenant and with her own children. I also invited her for a talk and a drink during the next day, while my clearly impatient boy took my hand and tried to drag me to the front door, as if urging me to leave the house and go home, because he felt too sleepy and we would have more than enough time to talk tomorrow.

Outside, I lifted my still yawning boy onto my shoulders. With his little feet dangling free and his small hands clamping around the top of my head, I walked him to my house. Oops, sorry... I walked US to OUR house. Our street was dark, except for a few illuminated circles below its lampposts. Whilst carrying my boy home, involuntarily, my meddlesome mind started to doubt again. For heaven's sake, what was I doing? Here I was, an 'ancient grandpa', carrying 'my boy' towards my house, as a trophy that I had snatched away from Eric. Wouldn't I be too old to raise such a little orphan all on my own and without any help? For as far as I could remember, I didn't even have enough food in my house to feed him properly in the morning, because I still had to refill my nearly empty refrigerator; and I also had to find a second toothbrush, more soap and towels, plus my mysteriously disappeared huge packet of tissues! Besides, would I really be able to educate such an only eight-year-old burnt little Gypsy boy and also teach him about any important 'facts of life'? I didn't even have any real experiences with raising my own children, because I had only been working and working to earn enough money for my small household!

During our marriage, my wife had been making all the important decisions regarding our daughters' upbringing, and I had always relied on her wise judgment and good sense. My only task in our household had been earning enough money, and now and then a quick cuddle and a kiss on a forehead! Now that I thought about it some more, I had probably made a way too hasty decision by taking this tiny child home. Child Protective Services would never allow me to keep him... Jack, his former Big Friend, had been extremely lucky avoiding CPS during the two years that little Harry had lived in his house. Besides, raising a young child was not the same thing as keeping a domestic pet! Therefore, I would have to ask Trudy for advice and also buy a few books about raising children, first thing in the morning...

In the meantime, my boy still clamped his small hands around my forehead while he lazily swung his dangling little feet; until he started to yawn even more and his swinging slowly stopped. Apparently, he started to fall asleep whilst sitting on my shoulders! Still worrying about my clearly too spontaneous decision, I entered my front gate and climbed the few steps to my porch. After sinking onto one knee to lower myself, I plucked my by now very sleepy looking boy off my shoulders. For a moment, he had to stand on his wobbly legs, because I had to get my keys out of my pocket to open my front door.

While I searched my pockets for my keys, my boy woke up some more and again produced another series of heartfelt yawns. This time, he looked like only a little boy that shivered from the nightly cold and continually swayed from drowsiness on his wobbly legs. With an also shivery sounding deep baritone voice, he asked me:

"Are we home now? It feels too cold here..."

"Yes, we are home now, but I have to find my keys first to be able to open my front door. Just another moment please."

"Okay..."

Only, where could I have put my keys? Again, I started to search my pockets. Could I have lost my keys somewhere on the sidewalk, or perhaps while being in John's house? Where had I seen them for the last time? Should I now turn around and start following my own trail backwards? Then, I remembered I had forgotten to put my keys in my trouser pocket before John and I left my house and I closed the front door behind! Of course, my keys were still lying in my living room, on my desk, next to my telephone! What should I do now? And, what should I do with my more and more shivering little boy?

Would the village's local police be able to help me, or perhaps the local fire brigade, if they had one? Or, should I try to call a locksmith and ask him to break open my locked front door? Then, I saw that I could have an even more serious problem, because my telephone was inside my house, patiently sitting in its usual cradle on my desk, next to my keys! By locking myself out, I had also shut off all my normal means of asking for help... What the heck should I do now?

Of course, I could return to John's abode and ask Trudy to help me. Only, then, I would probably meet Eric again, and that absolutely was the very last thing that I wanted to do for now! Couldn't I try to smash a small window first, perhaps at the back of the house? Then, I could ask my again yawning little soul mate to climb inside and open our front door. Secretly, I also hoped I had forgotten to lock my backdoor. Although I was relatively sure that I had locked it from the inside, one could never know, being only a forgetful 'ancient grandpa'. This time, I really hoped that rascal Thomas could have been right!

Thinking and pondering like this, I took my boy's small hand into mine and started to descend the few porch steps, planning to walk around my house to find its backdoor in the dark... Immediately when I started to descend the steps, my boy stopped abruptly whilst pulling at my hand as if preventing me from going on. With a very surprised looking face, he stared straight into my eyes with his piercing bright blue orbs. For a second, I thought he would try to read my mind again, this time to find out why I didn't open the front door with my keys... Then, his sleepy sounding deep baritone voice objected:

"What are you doing? I thought we would go inside now?"

Feeling ashamed about my now very obvious forgetfulness, I first smiled sheepishly at my boy, before I answered:

"I am very sorry for being such a forgetful old man, but I forgot to put my keys in my pocket while John and I left the house in a hurry. I only hope I also forgot to lock the backdoor, otherwise I will have to smash a small window at the backside of the house, so that you can try to climb in and open the front door from the inside..."

Surprisingly, my sleepy boy seemed to wake up almost completely, while he started to bellow with laughter! Hiccupping from sudden fun, he determinedly retook my hand and started to drag me around the house into the already pitch dark backyard. Why was he doing this? Would he bring me to some hidden basement hatch? Trying not to stumble in the disorienting dark, I heard him chuckle:

"You and Jack could be BROTHERS, because Jack always forgot his keys and his wallet! We even had to smash a small window at the backside of our house, so that I could crawl inside and open our front door. Then, I hid a spare key in a thick bush at the backside, to use it in case Jack forgot his keys again. Nobody knows about it, except for John, so we can be sure that our spare key will still be there..."

Still chuckling, he left my hand and disappeared into some thick shrub that grew against the wall. Within two seconds, he returned and proudly showed me a rusty spare key. With a smug face, he unlocked our backdoor and then told me in his best French:

"Voila monsieur, and after you..."

After first putting the spare key back onto its hidden nail inside the thick shrub, he followed me into my house, went straight to my living room, and returned with my forgotten keys from my desk. First, he relocked our backdoor from the inside. Then, without saying a word, but showing me an impish smile on his rather naughty looking face, he demonstratively worked my keys into my trouser pocket!

Wow, what a truly special kid was he! Feeling all mushy and full of love for my again yawning boy, I pulled him against my chest and ruffled his unruly blond hair. Immediately, he threw his small arms around my waist and fiercely hugged me back. Then, whilst climbing onto one of the empty folding chairs, he yawned:

"Could we please drink some hot chocolate first, to warm our cold bodies from the inside out before we go to bed?"

Chuckling at seeing my boy's eager looking face, I asked him:

"Do you want one or two helpings of chocolate powder?"

Without any hesitation, my still eager looking boy responded:

"Two helpings, of course! My body is still a bit too small for my age, so I always eat some extra food to grow faster."

"Well, your outstanding cleverness seems to be not too small for your age! Could you please get some milk from the refrigerator?"

Nodding in agreement, my boy hopped off his chair, went to the refrigerator, and returned with John's already opened bottle of milk. In the meantime, I had found my packets of chocolate powder and two cups, and put them onto the kitchen table. Teasingly, I took an empty pan from the sink and held it up in front of my boy, while I assumed he would just smile and leave all the cooking to me...

However, very much to my surprise, my boy just took the bottle of milk and adeptly poured exactly the right amount of milk into the pan, without spilling a drop! While I put the pan onto my electric cook top, I praised him for his unexpected talent:

"Wow, you were using exactly the right amount of milk!"

Looking proud and with sparkling eyes, my boy explained:

"That is because I always cook for my friends, and for everybody else who appreciates my skills and wants me to cook for them."

At that time, I thought he was bragging about his 'cooking skills'; because, as he was only eight years old, he certainly couldn't be much of a real chef! Trying to tease him some more, I told him:

"To be honest, I myself am not very good at cooking. Perhaps, you could try to teach me some of your secret cooking tricks?"

Without any hesitancy, my again proud looking imp promised:

"Yes, of course! Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, I will start teaching you how to cook a really tasteful breakfast."

Chuckling at seeing his surprisingly convincing face, I suddenly started to doubt; although, at that time, I still supposed he was only bragging about teaching me any cooking skills at all. As he was only eight years old, he just couldn't be much of a real chef...

After we finished our hot chocolate, I washed our used cups and the pan, while my boy dried them with the only kitchen towel I had been able to find. Using his folding chair to climb onto the sideboard, he also put everything away into the appropriate cupboards. Then, he just jumped down onto the carpeted kitchen floor, without any help. Chuckling inwardly, I thought that my boy seemed to be at least as tidy as my young friend John had been! And, tomorrow, he would start teaching me how to cook his 'really tasteful breakfast'...

Now that even our kitchen table was clean and dry, my boy and I seemed to be ready to go upstairs and get some much-needed sleep. After another heartfelt yawn, my boy suddenly turned around and leaned against my belly. From beneath, he looked up at me with his sleep charged bright blue eyes while he yawned:

"Could we go to bed now? Where are we sleeping?"

At hearing his unexpected question, I folded my arms around his tiny frame and pulled him even closer, while I answered:

"Well, I will sleep in my own room which is upstairs, first door to the left; and, now that you start living here again, you will sleep in your own room that also is upstairs, second door to the left."

As if feeling disappointed, my boy responded:

"But the movers threw everything away, even Jack's bed and my bed, so that my own room is totally empty! Therefore, you have to let me sleep next to you in your bed, as I always did with Jack in Jack's double bed and still do with John in John's single bed..."

Involuntarily, I started to feel unsure. Up to now, I had never had any young children sleeping next to me in my bed, maybe except for my own young daughters when they showed up early in the morning and happily jumped onto my belly to wake me up, before they dived under the blankets to get their usual morning cuddles... Only, they had been my 'own flesh and blood', unlike this tiny Gypsy boy who from now on would be living and sleeping in my house. What would our meddlesome 'society' think if they heard about me letting sleep such a young child next to me in my bed? Wouldn't they think the worst of it and probably try to 'rescue' such an innocent child from this old and in their eyes probably dangerous 'child predator'? Just look at what all those children's TV programs are warning their kids about...

Feeling more and more uneasy, I curtly rebutted:

"I think that young children should sleep in their own beds in their own rooms, and not next to an 'ancient grandpa'! What do you think Child Protective Services will do if they find out that you are not sleeping in your own bed? Therefore, let's go upstairs and take a look at your old room, to see if it is still usable."

"How do you know where my old room is? Did John tell you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, he did."

"I thought so, because John always knows everything about me. But you will see that my old room is totally empty; and See Pee Es can... Well, I am sure that you know what I mean."

Without waiting for my answer, he just left the kitchen and raced up the steps to the second floor; while I followed him upstairs at a more leisurely pace. Of course, he had already disappeared around the corner while I was still dragging my old frame onto the second floor. From where I was, I saw my boy staring through the already opened door into his old room, as if waiting for me, but this time also with some more hope in his still unsure looking eyes...

Immediately when I reached his old room, he turned around and again leaned into my belly, from where he wheedled:

"See? As I've already told you, my old room is empty because the movers really threw everything away! But I am only a tiny kid, so I don't use up very much space in YOUR bed..."

Silently chuckling inwardly at hearing my boy's clever objections, I again ruffled his unruly blond hair while I told him:

"Nice try! Only, it's too bad that I don't fall into your tricks. By the way, did you ever sleep on a folding bed?"

"Of course, silly! After I escaped from a stupid orphanage because all those children laughed at me and teased me with my burnt face, I first slept on a wooden bench in a park, until the police found me and Margaret from See Pee Es took me to her madhouse hospital... Huh? Do you really have a folding bed? Where is it?"

"To be fully prepared for any unexpected sleepovers, I've even purchased two of them! Let's get one from the attic..."

Without waiting for me, my boy just turned around and tried to reach the pulling cord over his head by jumping up and down as high as he could. Of course, he was too short to get hold of it, so that I took over from him and pulled the sliding stairs down. Immediately, he clambered upstairs and adeptly switched the attic lights on. Curiously, he started to look around at all the spare things I had been stowing away temporarily, or perhaps for later use...

Working together, we took one folding bed and carried it towards the hatch, from where I carefully dragged it down the stairs from beneath, while my little helper assisted me from the attic. Then, we carried it into his old room. Of course, he had to try it out first, by jumping up and down on it as high as he could. In the meantime, I got a couple of fresh sheets and blankets from my hallway closet, and my boy helped me put everything onto his makeshift bed.

When his folding bed was ready, I went to my own bedroom to get him one of my own pillows, while he followed me inside. Curiously, he started to walk around whilst looking at my belongings. Could he be remembering Jack's former bed? That was when I finally found my disappeared huge packet of tissues that teasingly winked at me from my nightstand! Of course, I had put it there myself and then forgot it. Obviously, rascal Thomas had been right, and I really started to be a forgetful 'ancient grandpa'! Involuntarily, I started to laugh...

With a suddenly questioning face, my boy asked me:

"What is so funny? What are you laughing at?"

Still laughing at my own stupidity, I explained:

"Well, after putting this huge packet of tissues on my nightstand, I clearly forgot where I had left it, because I couldn't find it anymore; until it suddenly returned and teasingly winked at me..."

Again, my imp started to bellow with laughter, while his sonorous sounding deep baritone voice chuckled:

"You and Jack REALLY could be brothers! Both of you seem to be just as absent-minded, always forgetting something important. It's a good thing that I am now around to help you remember!"

With his head a little bit askew, he looked into my eyes, probably to find out how I would react to his teasing...