Goddess Born (12 page)

“However he’s called, we thought you might appreciate some time before we came pounding on the door, demanding tea and cake in the parlor.”

“Well, then I’m not sorry you were attacked,” I said, exasperated, “if that’s what it takes to get you to Brighmor. Old friends are always welcome, no matter who else might be here.”

He smiled in response to my rebuke. “I’ll make sure to tell Nora. She’s really missed you.”

“And, I’ve missed her.” I sighed. Much had changed, and I hoped Nora didn’t think herself replaced by a husband.

The door opened as I tied off the last stitch. Glancing up, I saw Ben and Henry walk in together. “Hello,” I called from my place on the floor, giving them each a quick once over to check for any serious damage. “There’s a line if you need to be tended.”

“What happened to you?” Ben asked, looking down at William’s leg.

“Got bit by a pig. Darn thing tried to take off my leg. Are you here for some doctoring?”

“Nothing too serious,” Ben said casually. “Just a sprained finger.”

“You’ll be after Rebecca’s bird,” I said, glancing at Ben’s hand. “The poor girl’s been sitting outside crying for her friend. I’m afraid her eyes are going to swell shut if it’s not tended to soon.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ben said, but from the way he cradled his hand, I guessed it might be more than a simple sprain.

While we spoke, Henry moved across the room to look at the shelves that held my herbs and remedies. From the corner of my eye, I watched him pick up a jar of evening primrose and turn it around in his hands. “There you go,” I said, once William’s leg was bandaged. “Good as new.”

He stood and gingerly distributed his weight between both feet. “Thank you, Selah,” he said, and then reached a hand down to help me up. “You have the gentlest touch.”

“You’re welcome, but if you delay again between visits, I won’t be so gentle next time.” We stood facing each other, my one hand still in his.

“I promise to call soon.” The warmth in his eyes assured me of his friendship.

For a brief moment I had forgotten the other people in the room. Henry cleared his throat, and I turned to find him watching us with an amused expression. William also looked and then immediately dropped my hand.

“Oh, goodness,” I said, discomfited by my bad manners. “Henry, let me introduce you to my dear friend, William Goodwin. William, this is my husband, Henry Kilbrid.”

Henry moved to my side and nodded his head in acknowledgement. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Goodwin.”

William tensed as he took in Henry’s full appearance. “And, you,” he said brusquely before returning his attention back to me. “I should be going. My mother and Nora are waiting at home. Thank you again, Selah.” He spoke courteously enough, though the warmth had gone from his eyes and his smile had tightened to a straight line.

“Will you give them my regards?” I asked, surprised by this sudden change in mood as he crossed the room to the door.

“Yes, of course.” He ducked outside without even saying goodbye.

Sometime soon I needed to verse Henry on the use of titles when addressing Quakers, but such a small offense should never have upset William. I debated following him out to demand a proper explanation when Rebecca peeked around the door, all grief and tears as she held out the basket. “Can you fix my bird now, Selah?”

“Bring it over, and I’ll see what can be done.” I pushed aside my concern for William in order to focus on my next patient.

Rebecca came right over. Removing the cloth from the basket, she placed it on my examining chair. Henry joined me on the floor when I knelt, and side by side we studied the unfortunate creature.

“Its wing’s broken,” he whispered, voice low so not to further upset Rebecca. “Why don’t you tell her the bird flew off to heaven while I go outside and wring its neck.”

I was touched by his rather morbid offer. Under normal circumstances killing the bird would have been the most humane course of action. But while I was here the circumstances were hardly normal.

“I’m not so sure it’s broken,” I said despite the odd angle of the feathered appendage. “Rebecca, can you do something very important for me?”

She nodded her head, her red eyes showing the first glimmer of hope.

“Would you mind taking Henry outside and finding two yellow flowers and one white one while I tend to your friend? Make sure there are no missing petals and the stems are good and long.”

She nodded again and grabbed Henry by the hand, nearly pulling him over in her excitement. He scrambled to his feet, a dubious expression on his face as Rebecca tugged him from the room.

Not knowing exactly how long it would take them to find the flowers, I immediately lifted the bird from the basket and set to work. Within seconds I had isolated the break and begun mending the bones.

“The wing is definitely broken,” Ben said a few feet from my side. “You should have let Henry kill it.”

“Don’t be so sure,” I replied. The bird remained calm, cradled securely in one hand as I pretended to examine the wing. “Feels like it’s only been tweaked a bit.”

Ben laughed at my diagnosis. “That’s just what your mother would say whenever a critter needed help.” He looked a little closer at the bird. “Perhaps you’re right, and it’s just been twisted.”

I smiled at the memory of my mother, knowing his words to be justified. Not that I could ever blame her for such a weakness. After working so much with people, animals presented a rare joy, allowing me to work freely without fear of discovery.

In fact, thirteen years ago it had been through an animal that I first learned of my gift. One rainy afternoon, Nora and I had tried to carry her new kitten into the hayloft to play. Nora lost her footing on the ladder and fell to the ground, crushing the poor thing beneath her. The kitten was in a bad way, and Nora left it in my lap while she ran to get her mother. As I sat crying, softly stroking its fur, I had never wanted anything so badly than to have the poor creature better again. Hoping for a miracle, I started to pray when a surge of warmth swelled in my chest and then flowed down my arms into the kitten. Lacking any formal medical training, it was by sheer determination and good luck that I stopped the internal bleeding and mended the many broken bones.

By the time Nora returned, the creature was up and playing like nothing had happened. Fearful of being discovered, I kept quiet while Lucy Goodwin looked the kitten over from top to bottom, finally declaring the animal out of mortal danger before giving us each a peck on the head and returning to the house. Nora had always been too smart for her own good, even at the tender age of five, and knew I had done something special. Throwing her arms around me, she proclaimed I was an angel and promised to love me forever. Terrified, I squirmed free of her arms and fled from the barn.

Back at home my mother listened patiently while I spilled everything from my young heart. She then lifted me onto her lap and told me of a history that began in Ireland more than three thousand years before. I listened attentively to her soft lilting voice, my brow crinkling over Brigid,
Tuatha dé
, and the Otherworld in the long story that led up to my birth on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.

At the time it had been no easy thing to comprehend just how different I was from my friends and neighbors, as many of them had
also
come from another world, having left Europe to start anew in the Colonies. Often times they arrived in Hopewell dressed in strange clothing and speaking languages that sounded funny to my ears. But despite these peculiarities, everyone got along well together, and my
Tuatha dé
blood seemed inconsequential when Katrina’s parents were from Germany and Nora’s pirate grandfather had once visited an island where all the people were the size of children.

Even so, as my mother continued to speak that day, two things locked firmly into my young mind—through my first mother, I possessed the power to heal, and if anyone outside of my family learned the truth, I would be taken away and killed. For the first five years of my life, I’d never been trusted with a secret worth keeping before. That day, I was given enough to last a lifetime.

The door suddenly swung open, banging against the wall and pulling me from my thoughts. “We found them, Selah.” Rebecca rushed over with the three flowers. “Now will my bird get better?”

I placed the bird back in the basket and covered the top. “Why don’t we go outside and see,” I said, trading the bird for the flowers.

Rebecca set the basket in the grass. After slowly pulling off the cloth, she tiptoed back several steps to wait. I walked over to the doorway, followed by Ben and Henry, where we watched the bird flutter up and land on the rim of the basket. It looked at us for a moment before taking off into the darkly clouded sky.

“You did it!” Rebecca threw her arms around my waist. “Thank you for fixing my bird.”

“You’re welcome,” I laughed, a little short of breath from the force of her hug.

Just when I thought it necessary to pry her fingers loose, she let go and took a step back. “But what were the flowers for?” she asked, glimpsing them still in my hand.

I bent over and tucked them behind her ear. “For you, silly goose. Now go on home before your mother starts wondering what you’re up to.”

“Yes, Selah,” she said and went off at a skip, her young worries solved for one day.

With one patient remaining, I stepped back into my apothecary where I found Henry watching me curiously. “I could have sworn that bird’s wing was broken,” he said. “What did you do?”

“It was only a simple tweak,” Ben said ahead of me. “Mistress Kilbrid just had to straighten it out a bit. Now, if there’s no more critters needing your attention, would you mind tending to my hand?”

“Oh, yes,” I said, grateful for his quick answer. His middle finger was swollen big as a sausage, and it took no special skill to see it had slipped from the joint. “Why didn’t you tell me it was so serious?” I scolded. “The bird could have waited.”

“It’s not so bad,” Ben said, wincing when I applied the smallest pressure.

“How did this happen?” I felt along the bones and joints, checking for additional damage.

“Well...we were...umm,” Ben started clumsily, not quite so ready with his own excuse.

“Ben and I were working on some new defensive farming techniques,” Henry offered instead.

I didn’t believe him for a moment. “Is that so?”

Henry smiled, while Ben grunted something unintelligible.

No further explanation seemed to be forthcoming. “Well, you’re lucky nothing’s broken,” I said. “You best get ready, because this is going to hurt.” I pulled the affected finger and slid the bone back into joint. Ben flinched from the sudden movement, but it was over in seconds. I then applied a poultice to help with bruising, and splinted the middle and index finger together to keep the bone from slipping back out of joint until the swelling went down.

“You must be careful,” I told Ben when the treatment was finished. “And no more defensive farming techniques for a while.” My words brought a sufficiently guilty look to Ben’s face. Henry had no such guilt, his smile broadening as they left the apothecary.

Healing one boy, two men and a bird had taken longer than expected. Back in my room, I quickly washed and smoothed my hair into place for supper. While my father lived and had strength enough to eat in the dining room, he’d been a stickler about meals being served at the same time each day. Either from routine or respect, Mrs. Ryan had kept to the same schedule after his passing. I barely made it to the table when the small mantel clock struck the seventh hour. Henry came in a moment later, also refreshed from a long day of work.

Since we had officially reconciled last night, it turned out to be the most pleasant meal we had shared so far. Over fresh pea soup and roasted chicken, I told him about my day, or the parts that could be shared without giving the servants too much more to gossip about with the neighbors. Heaven knows they already had enough to keep the town talking for the near future.

After supper I excused myself to read in the smaller parlor, and smiled in surprise when Henry followed me rather than going for one of his long walks alone. The distant thunder and impending rain were probably the greater influence, but I liked to think he had stayed for my company. Several candles had already been lit, casting the room in soft light and making it a most comfortable place to spend the evening. I moved toward my usual place on the sofa when Henry spied a chessboard set up on a small table.

“Do you play?” he asked.

I looked at the board with mixed feelings. “I used to play often with my father before he got too sick.”

“Then we are the same. My father also taught me, but it has been months since I last played. Would you care for a game?”

He wore that smile I adored, and quite suddenly I very much wanted to play chess again. “Yes, I would.” I set the book aside and took a seat in front of the black pieces.

We didn’t speak much at first while we studied the board and assessed each other’s skill. He proved a thoughtful opponent, though he tended to place his pieces more boldly than I was accustomed.

“Have you had a chance to meet many of our neighbors yet?” I asked once the game had taken on a good rhythm.

“Some, while riding around with Ben.”

“And what is your opinion of Hopewell so far?”

Henry glanced down at the board, either to consider his next move or how best to answer my question. “It’s a nicely situated town,” he said as he attacked my pawn with a knight.

“And what do you think of the people?”

“Those I’ve met seem pleasant enough.”

Could he be anymore vague? Nicely situated and pleasant enough, indeed! Such descriptions were meant for spinster aunts living in rented rooms—not my beloved Hopewell.

“I do confess to finding the Quakers a most peculiar people,” he went on.

Peculiar
wasn’t exactly the glowing report I’d hoped for, but it would do for now, especially after the run-in with William Goodwin this afternoon.

“Are you familiar with their beliefs?” I asked.