He acted as if he didn’t notice my giddiness and infatuation. Maybe he was just used to such treatment from all the young girls he met; surely everyone must see him as an unparalleled paragon of perfection. Or else he thought I was a girl with mental deficiencies who actually functioned fairly well given that she couldn’t put together two coherent thoughts. During the three days he stayed with us, he always treated me with gentle courtesy and never, not even once, said anything that might be construed as flirtatious.
He knew I was a girl, though, and I didn’t even have to tell him. Maybe it was because the shabby clothes were not hiding my figure as they should. Maybe because I laughed too much or played with my hair when he was in the room. Maybe because he had trained himself to notice people and their physical conditions.
He was on his way to Wodenderry to study to be a doctor. Thereby adding to his godlike stature in my eyes.
He gave us this information during the second night’s dinner, when I had somewhat recovered myself, though I still felt fluttery in his presence. We had a second guest in the house just then, an older woman renting my room. She had stayed with us several times in the past. She was stick-thin and cold-natured, but even she was batting her eyes and smiling at Chase Beerin.
“I think it must be very hard to learn everything you’ll have to know to be a doctor,” she said, giving him her warmest smile. “What made you decide to pursue such a career?”
“I felt so helpless two years ago when my sister was sick,” he replied in his earnest way. “We nursed her back to health, but it took so long, and we were afraid we were going to lose her. I never wanted to feel that useless again in the face of illness.”
“Was she very young?” the woman asked sympathetically.
He glanced at me. “About Kellen’s age, I would guess. Kellen looks a little like her, too.” He smiled briefly. “She’s not quite as wild as my sister, though.”
The other guest dismissed me with a quick, disbelieving look. “So you’ve been accepted at the Physicians’ College in Wodenderry? You must be very clever.”
I was still stunned at the revelations that Chase knew what I was and thought I looked like someone related to him. My mother, handing around the potatoes from the head of the table, frowned briefly at his observation, but decided not to comment. Chase continued to tell us about his family and confided that he was a little nervous about his upcoming medical education.
“For you’re right. It will be very hard. But I have always managed to do everything I set out to do, even if I had to try a few times before I succeeded. So I’m determined to do well at doctoring, too. I have actually been studying for the past year with a physician in Merendon—informally, you know, but learning what I could. He said I had great potential and that I could come back and work with him once I’ve attained my degree.”
“And will you?” my mother asked.
“I don’t know. I might go back to my hometown instead. Or I might stay in Wodenderry for a few years. I shall have to see how I like the royal city.”
After the meal, he asked for directions to the tavern, where he was meeting a friend who had moved to Thrush Hollow.
“I can lead you there,” I offered. “I’ve got to take Gryffin his assignments, anyway.”
A few minutes later we were walking through the quiet town—well, I was trying hard not to skip in my excitement at spending a few moments alone with Chase Beerin, but he was strolling along quite casually. Early dark was in the process of stamping out the last of daylight, and the air was cool enough to make a brisk walk advisable.
“So who’s Gryffin and why does he need assignments?” Chase asked after we had walked a couple of minutes in silence.
“Oh! He’s my friend. He lives above the tavern. He goes to school with me, but he couldn’t make it today, so our teacher gave me work to bring him.”
“Why couldn’t he make it? Was he sick?”
“He has—there’s something wrong with his legs,” I said. “And sometimes they hurt him so much he can’t walk. That’s what happened today.”
Chase Beerin glanced down at me, and I could see a professional interest lighting his dark eyes. “What’s wrong with them?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. They were twisted when he was born.”
“Can I—do you think he would allow me to look at him? I don’t know if I could do anything to help him, but it’s possible.”
I smiled. How could anyone help adoring this man? “Let’s ask him.”
Gryffin, found lounging on his bed surrounded by books and candles, greeted Chase Beerin’s offer with polite doubt. “I’ve been like this a long time,” he said. “I don’t know that anyone can help me.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “What have others done for you?”
“I don’t know if my mother called in anyone when I was a baby,” Gryffin said carefully. “But I haven’t had a chance to consult a doctor since I’ve lived in Thrush Hollow.”
I thought I saw a good deal of comprehension in Chase’s eyes, but he merely nodded. “Kellen, you might want to leave the room,” he said. “I’m going to ask Gryffin to take off his trousers.”
“I don’t mind seeing his legs if Gryffin doesn’t mind my seeing them,” I said.
Chase laughed. “That wasn’t exactly what I was worried about.”
Gryffin was grinning, too. “Kellen can stay if she wants,” he said. “I’ll keep on my underthings.”
Now I was blushing furiously, because it had never exactly occurred to me to think about Gryffin being a boy. I mean, he was, of course, but in the same sort of way that I was a girl—a way that no one particularly noticed. “I just thought maybe I’d be able to do something to help,” I said in a strangled voice.
“And so you might,” Chase said. “Do you suppose there’s any kind of ointment or salve in the house? I have some with me, but it’s in my bag back at Kellen’s.”
“In the kitchen cupboard,” Gryffin said. “My aunt puts it on her hands after she’s done all the washing.”
“Perhaps Kellen can bring us some,” Chase said.
I flew down to the kitchen, where fortunately not even Dora was stationed at the moment, found a can of herb-scented cream, and ran up the stairs again. By this time, Gryffin’s trousers had been removed and he lay barefoot and half-naked on the bed. His legs were so thin, so white, and so frail-looking that for a moment I was speechless. They were also twisted and marred with great, painful-looking lumps, and I saw places that looked purple as from permanent bruises. I wanted to cry.
I didn’t. “Here’s the cream,” I said.
Chase nodded. “Good. Can you set it in the fire for a little while, so that it heats up? Not too hot. Stir it with your finger, and bring it to me when it feels warm to your skin.”
While I did this, Chase sat at the edge of the bed and began to methodically straighten Gryffin’s legs. Once in a while I heard Gryffin gasp with pain, and several times I heard Chase ask, “Did that hurt? How about this? Does this hurt?” Most often the answer was yes, but sometimes it was no. I thought Gryffin sounded breathless, as if the pain was too great to allow him to take in much air.
Soon enough I carried the can of salve back to Chase. He scooped out a big glob and rolled it between his hands, then spread it on both of Gryffin’s legs from his toes to his swollen knees.
“Have you ever had a massage? No?” Chase asked. “I’m going to see if that helps a little. Sometimes it relaxes the muscles and makes the spasms go away. Let me know if any of this is painful. It’s not supposed to be.”
And he slowly and methodically began to rub the cream into Gryffin’s malformed legs. I saw Gryffin’s hands clench and then relax, and the tense expression on his face eased as well. “No, that doesn’t hurt,” he said in a wondering voice. “In fact, it feels good.”
“Good,” Chase said.
I crowded as close to the bed as I could, watching how Chase placed his hands, where he applied pressure, where he
did not. “Could I learn to do that?” I asked.
Chase glanced up at me. “Probably. It takes some strength to do it right, though.”
“My hands are very strong,” I assured him.
Chase shifted. “Then sit down here a minute.” I brought over the battered ottoman and perched on the edge. “Put some cream on your hands. Now place them—like this—on Gryffin’s leg and exert a little pressure….”
Under my fingertips, Gryffin’s skin felt oily with lotion, but thin as paper. I was afraid cause it to split and tear. Beneath the insufficient flesh lay the knotted muscles and the fragile bones, just as likely to fray and break. I was used to doing hard work but nothing this delicate, nothing freighted with so much consequence. I looked up from my hands and saw Gryffin watching me.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered.
He shook his head. “I don’t think you can.”
“A little more pressure, Kellen,” Chase directed. “Now move your hands—like this—yes….”
We worked on him for about an hour, by which time I was exhausted and Gryffin had relaxed into a sort of blissful silence, head thrown back, eyes closed. Not until Chase nodded at me and we both lifted our hands did Gryffin open his eyes again.
“That was wonderful,” he said. “I feel like I could get up and dance.”
“Better not,” Chase advised. He smiled and cleaned his hands with a cloth pulled from his back pocket. I was just wiping mine on the front of my shirt. “But I think you’ll find that your legs feel stronger in the morning. Walking will be easier.” He glanced at me. “If you could get a massage like that once a week, I think you might even make a little progress. And the more you use your legs, the better they’ll function. I don’t know that you’ll ever improve to the point where you don’t have to use your canes, but walking will become easier, perhaps.”
“Once a week? I can do that,” I said.
“Or perhaps your mother or father? You mentioned an aunt—”
“No,” Gryffin and I said in unison.
“Well, then. Kellen, if she can.” Chase smiled at me and stood up. “And now I suppose I’d better go hunt up my friend. He’ll be wondering what’s kept me.”
I made a face. “And I’d better get home. My mother will be looking for me. Gryffin, I brought your books and some notes from Mr. Shelby. I’ll come by in the morning to get you.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Chase and I felt our way down the dark stairway and emerged into the chilly night. My hands smelled like flowers and bark and whatever other scents had been stirred into the lotion. My original plan had been to return the salve to the kitchen, until I realized that I would be needing it in the future when I tended to Gryffin. I figured Dora could blame some barmaid or her own carelessness for the disappearance of the container.
“Can you find your way back to my mother’s house?” I asked.
Chase nodded. “I’ll be back late, though. Don’t wait up.”
I grinned. “Don’t be surprised if I wake you up in the morning when I start breakfast. Even if I don’t mean to.”
“And don’t you be surprised if even the promise of a meal isn’t enough to get me off of the sofa.”
I smiled and half turned to go. Chase had taken a step toward the front of the building when I spoke again. “Thank you,” I said. “That was so—Gryffin always has so much pain. That you can take it away like that—it’s almost like magic.”
Chase shrugged in the dark. “Kindness is a form of magic,” he said. “So everyone should be capable of at least a little. Good night. See you in the morning.” And he nodded to me and strode off.
I stood there another moment, struck dumb.
Kindness is a form of magic.
Then magic had sprinkled itself across me many times, when I had not even noticed its fey sparkle. I had been used to thinking of my life as bleak and full of darkness, but for the first time it occurred to me how often a stranger had stepped forward to offer me comfort and assistance, no matter how briefly. Ian Shelby. Sarah Parmer. Ayler the Safe-Keeper. The man who had stopped Carlon from beating me in the streets. Chase Beerin. They had been kind to me; most had, in different ways, been kind to Gryffin as well. Looked at that way, my life was a weave of brightness laid over a trembling black, a scrap of midnight velvet spangled with many jewels.
I had another thought as I stood there, trying desperately to understand a completely altered view of my existence. Someday I might be the one to offer kindness to someone else in grim and dire circumstances. Someday I might be the one with wealth or knowledge or strength or power that could be used to alleviate another person’s distress. Such a thought had literally never crossed my mind before. More than once I had been saved. Someday I might save someone else in return.
I considered these ideas as I walked very slowly back to my mother’s house, my head down against the searching wind. I thought them over as I lay in front of the stove, soaking up whatever warmth was offered by its dying heat. I wanted to discuss them with Chase Beerin the next morning but, true to his warning, he did not rise for breakfast. He was still sleeping when I left to collect Gryffin on the way to school. When I got home that afternoon, he had already left town.
I never saw Chase Beerin in Thrush Hollow again.
Chapter Nine
Wintermoon came, just as cold as the year before but far less snowy. This time as we stood behind the tavern, torching our own private wreath, Gryffin and I smeared some of the oak branches with a scented cream that I had bought from a recent overnight guest who peddled all sorts of interesting items. It had a fine consistency that pleased Gryffin and turned even my work-roughened hands soft. We had made a point of following Chase’s regimen of a weekly massage, and Gryffin was delighted to notice some improvement in his balance, his mobility, and his level of pain. He had missed no school days this entire season because of his legs.
“I think Chase was wrong,” Gryffin said. “I think I’ll walk without my canes someday after all.” To further the attainment of this desire, he had carved miniature versions of them from sticks of wood, and tied them to the wreath to burn.
I had added my own special items to this year’s wreath—a scrap of white lace, a length of red ribbon, a tiny braid of my own hair. I had been vague when Gryffin asked me what they were supposed to signify, though in my own mind I was very clear. They were feminine items. Things that might appeal to a young woman.
I wanted a chance to be seen as a girl. I wanted to wear clothes that were more flattering, cut my hair in a fashionable style. Sometimes when my mother was gone from the house, I tried on one of her dresses, though she was both shorter and heavier than I was and her clothes did not come close to fitting. But I wanted to know what they felt like. I watched the mirror as I spun around, and laughed to feel the swish of fabric around my legs. Once I sorted through her cosmetics and applied color to my cheeks and mouth. I looked strange and imperfect, but different.
I wanted to be different.
I did not express this to Gryffin.
We lit the little wreath and let it burn on the dry ground, then I ran around stamping on all the scraps of dead leaves that had started to smoke. The fear of accidentally burning down the tavern made us wait outside another thirty minutes, shivering in the dark, to make sure no fugitive sparks survived my fervor.
“I think it’s safe to go in now,” I said through chattering teeth. “It’s too cold for fire to even burn on a night like this, anyway.”
Gryffin laughed. “Good night, then.”
“Warm Wintermoon wish to you,” I said, and turned to go.
But he called after me. “Wait!” When I obediently turned back, he maneuvered a few steps closer, till his canes were resting on the ground on either side of me. I realized to my surprise that Gryffin was actually taller than I was, and by a considerable margin. He had to bend down to kiss me on the cheek, something he had never done before. His mouth was almost as cold as my own skin.
“Warm Wintermoon to you, too, Kellen,” he said, and smiled.
I smiled back. “Things will be different next year at Wintermoon,” I whispered. “I can feel it.”
“Different how?”
“Wait and see.”
The new year started off promisingly enough. I was doing unexpectedly well in school, passing all my exams and keeping clear of all my tormentors. Gryffin’s health did not continue to improve so rapidly, but he didn’t lose any ground, either, so both of us were happy. The mayor got word that Thrush Hollow would become an official stop for a new stagecoach line, and the Parmers won the bidding to open a posting house. They set about constructing a couple of large buildings just across the road from their rambling house. There was a restaurant, with a few sleeping rooms above it for travelers not interested in seeking out a true inn. In back were greatly expanded stables to hold the many changes of horses that would be required to accommodate the thrice-daily run of the stage. The speculation among townspeople was that a stagecoach line would mean the roads to Thrush Hollow would be improved, which meant that private traffic would increase through the town as well. Which meant bounty for everyone who ran a service of any kind.
As soon as I learned that the Parmers were opening an eating establishment, I sought out Sarah Parmer and asked for a job.
She was no longer in school; she was working full-time for her parents, but everyone expected her to marry within a year or two. The man who loved her was Bo, the genial red-bearded driver who had first taken Gryffin and me to the Parmer house. He had been promoted from driver and was now tasked with overseeing the stables. Sarah and her mother would be in charge of the restaurant and the tiny inn; her father and brothers would continue running the freighting enterprise.
But there was a great deal of additional work to be done.
Sarah and her mother were painting the interior of the restaurant when I showed up. Everything looked new and smelled fresh. Tables and chairs were crowded into the middle of the room to make room for the workers; cheery red-and-white-checked curtains had been laid across a table, ready for hanging when the paint dried.