Healer Chapter 12

The months that passed were the happiest of my life. Nathan and I had to learn how to keep our relationship secret especially when we bumped into each other in public places. It was difficult to keep my mouth shut when we found ourselves in line together at the supermarket and the girl behind the check-out counter flirted with him. I couldn’t hide the eye-roll I gave when she doubled his discounts. She saw it, called me a “fat cow who couldn’t get a real man if I paid him”, and charged me twice on my ground beef without even pretending to do otherwise. I let it go, especially since we were sharing food costs and it actually ended up costing us less. Nathan had heard the insult, but we’d decided that we didn’t want to draw attention to us, so he also kept his mouth shut. He was waiting at my car when I came outside and gave me a hug.

“You’ll notice that she paid me when she doubled my discounts, and yet, who is it who has me?” which made me feel a lot better. “And you are NOT a fat cow.”

“Moo.” I couldn’t help myself. He put his bags into my car and I took them back to my house. He’d complained about the lack of junk-food in my kitchen, so I told him he could buy his own and keep it on the empty top shelf in my pantry. He was practically living with me, though he kept his apartment for appearances sake and because he still had a few more months on his lease. When his buddies wanted to watch sports at his place, that’s where they went, a perk that I really liked, actually. Otherwise, the only time he went to the apartment was to pick up his mail. Whether anyone noticed that his truck and patrol car were rarely in the parking lot of his apartment building, we’ll never know. I only went there once, to drop him off so that he could move his patrol car to my house. My house is on the outskirts of town, practically in the woods and way off the beaten track with plenty of bushes to obscure it from the road, so random passers-by can’t see who is parked there. My clients probably noticed that the truck was parked there, but did not comment. I suspect that they knew whose truck that was and kept it quiet for the same reasons that they don’t publicize their own visits to my home. The nurses and Natalie continued to hound me for details, but I just smiled and dodged the questions. It was our business and no one else’s. Nathan was now regretting that public kiss at the hospital—everyone, including Fred and Dalia, expected a repeat whenever we were seen together in a somewhat private area (like the EMS lounge), though thankfully this wasn’t the case when the spot was more public.

Jill passed away peacefully at home, after doing a month long tour of Europe, surrounded by her friends and family. Robert was in remission. His mom asked me to help him through the rest of his treatments and I was happy to take him on as a client. When I take on a client who cannot afford to pay me I only ask that they “pay it forward” in some way. I see their whole family at the hospital, volunteering to help other families get through the ordeals that they knew so well. Stacy brings Charlotte to visit me as often as she can. Charlotte had no ill effects from her trip to the hospital and is growing beautifully.

Nathan and I continued to try and figure out a way to get over his intimacy problem. I tried to get a meeting with various members of the Brownies, but they refused to even take my calls. I tried to make my trips to the hospital more apparent, to let people see that what I do is good. I even tried to go to church one Sunday, but I was just glared at and I noticed that not only did the service start late, but it seemed totally geared towards passages denouncing witchcraft and heathenism. I suspected that the late start was because the Reverend wanted to re-write his entire sermon.

For his part, Nathan read my bible, looking for anything that I might have missed. He did find one strange thing. Many of my ancestors noted weird results, where, in their attempts to heal one thing the results were not the one-to-one that we expect. One time, a simple cough was transferred as a runny nose. Another time, a headache became a sore back. It was like the symptom got lost in transit. We talked about it and decided to see if I could force this to happen.

Over the months we’d learned that Nathan got about an hour of relief from his problem after I woke him up. We could then touch each other intimately and he wouldn’t get so turned on physically and thus could enjoy it. I joked with him that I hoped his normal recovery time wasn’t so long. But our first attempts at trying out my possible new ability were slow:

“I’m not going to hurt you or let you hurt yourself.”

“Well, how can I try and alter symptoms when I have nothing to swap? It’s frustrating that I have to wait an hour to try again.” We’d decided that the easiest way to see if we were making progress would be to turn his desire into a cramp in my foot. So far I’d only been able to make my foot feel numb and that had taken three days of trying. I couldn’t continue to give him my innocence because that was what was taking an hour to wear off. If only I had some pain or symptom to give to him instead.

“I know,” he said, hugging me. “But we’re not going to turn sadistic and trade punches or cuts.”

That was the dilemma we found ourselves in for most of the month of October. It wasn’t until I woke up feeling sick that we made progress.

“You want to give me what?!” Nathan was looking green and glanced unhappily at his bowl of cereal.

“My cramps. I also have some fatigue or bloating if you want to go that way.” I tried to sound casual, though this was probably the first time I had a frank discussion of my period since my mom first explained it to me.

“I must really love you because I’m still sitting here thinking about this.” He sighed and pushed away his bowl. He crossed his arms across his chest. “Okay, my first question is whether there will be any damage to me since I don’t have your equipment—I really don’t need to further harm my reproductive system.”

“You have the same muscles, which is where the cramps are.” I gestured at my lower abdomen.

“What does it feel like?”

“Uhh…I don’t really know how to explain it. Maybe similar to a guy getting hit in the crotch? Though I wouldn’t know that feeling. It’s painful, though not as painful as labor, but exercise helps a lot, as does heat…and chocolate.”

“And how long will it last?”

“Umm…well, you know about my lack of control over my own strength,” I’d been trying to get the innocence to a minimum dose, but that hadn’t worked. “So it might last an hour, too. We won’t know until we try.”

“You know, this is the ultimate in emasculation.” He groaned. “Okay, I’m game, but this goes the way of the hospital mess story—never to be referred to again, got it?”

“Scout’s honor,” I told him, holding up the two fingers. I grabbed some Hershey’s minitures out of the pantry and a bottle of Advil and followed him into the den. We settled on the couch and started making-out. No matter how our relationship is stressed, we loved the fact that we could sit on a couch on a Sunday morning and make-out without feeling unproductive.

It didn’t take long for him to get aroused, but I paused before I transferred my pain, thinking through the three exchanges I had to make: take his desire, give him my cramps, and somehow wrestle his desire into a cramp in my foot—all at the same time. I started the transfer slowly, sending the cramps while grabbing onto his desire. It was easier this time. I’d never really thought about what the “innocence” was when I gave it to him. It wasn’t anything I could describe in particular, just a general feeling. I knew then that emotions were not my forte—pain, however, is. Pain is tangible, pain is real, pain has a shape, a form, and can be held…or at least in my imagination, which is half of the act of doing magic. Previous attempts had been like juggling eels—I’d used all my consciousness trying to figure out exactly what innocence is and sending it to him that when the desire entered my body, I’d already missed my chance to grab it and shape it to my own will. This time, I’d already sent the pain, in a controlled dose, to him when I grabbed the desire, and the desire never had a chance to escape into my body. It was no trouble to stuff it down into the muscles of my foot.

“Oh! OUCH!” My foot was contorted in a strange angle, clearly cramped up.

“Are you okay?” Nathan was looking green again and he rubbed his abdomen roughly, working through his own cramp.

“I’m fine. You?” I rubbed my foot, trying to get the muscles to relax.

“Well, it’s definitely not the same feeling as getting hit in the balls. It’s more like a tooth ache, I guess, though on a larger scale.”

“Yeah, a dull ache would explain it pretty well.” I flexed my foot. It still hurt, but it was moving again.

Nathan reached for some chocolate. “Please forgive me and all male-kind for not being more sympathetic to the misery women go through every month. This goes on for five days plus the other symptoms?” He curled up on his side, still rubbing his guts.

“Huh? Oh, I’m not sure how other women’s are, but mine just super sucks the first day because I get everything at once. By the second day, I’m usually done with the symptoms except for the bleeding. I do tend to get extra emotional the day before, though.” My foot was starting to feel more like normal again. “Move your hands.” I rubbed my hands together to warm them up and pressed them to Nathans abdomen, his eyes rolled up in his head for a second.

“That feels good.” He rested his hands on top of mine and closed his eyes.

“Well, remember this trick next month for me and I’ll be insanely happy.”

“Done.”

I had to re-warm my hands three times before the cramps subsided from his body. It’d only taken about twenty minutes, a third of the time it’d taken us before.

“Ugh,” Nathan groaned, finally able to stretch out on the couch. “I’ve never been so happy to be a man before.” He looked at me and absently rubbed his stomach. “So I guess it worked?”

“Yup. I figured out the problem was that I didn’t have something tangible to hold on to when I gave you so called ‘innocence’.”

“Ah. Does that mean that I’m stuck getting cramps or do you think that you can figure out how to hold on to innocence? Because I’m a bit partial to never having a period again…and I can’t believe that statement just came out of my mouth.”

“Honey, when you’ve spent forty-eight to ninty-six hours feeling fat, sore, exhausted, irritated, weepy, and very, very messy, you can tell me that again.” I smiled at him and rubbed my own abdomen; my cramps were returning.

“I hope to God that I never piss you off so bad that you make me experience all of that.”

“Trust me when I say that you couldn’t.” I smiled at him. “So, do we try that again or do we call it a day?”

“Ah hell, let’s do it again. You need the practice and I need to atone for being a man.”

We were recuperating after our fourth or fifth trial when there was a frantic knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” I told him, limping to the front door. Stacy was there and she looked frightened. Charlotte, now almost two years old, was in her arms. She looked fine except that her arm was bent at a slightly odd angle and she was crying, though not loudly. “What happened?” I asked her, showing her into the light drawing room.

“I don’t know,” she told me, her voice shaking. “We were at the park and she was running after some birds. She bent down to touch something and then a bird flew up into the sky from where she was. She started crying and I ran over to her, thinking that the bird had just scared her, but then I saw her arm and it…I think it’s broken.” She broke down then, tears streaming down her face.

I silently took Charlotte from Stacy’s arms, settling her onto my lap. While I was inspecting her arm to determine that it was indeed broken I felt my own discomfort leave my body. “Woah!” I yelled. I held Charlotte away from myself, though that wasn’t stopping the child. I quickly grabbed my various cramps and set the child back on her mother’s lap. Stacy looked at me strangely, but her tears had stopped. She looked very confused.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“Umm…awkward,” I told her. I stood up and began to pace around the room. “Okay, first off, her arm is broken, so you’re going to need to take her to the hospital. Secondly, we have a situation.”

“What kind of situation?” She looked alarmed.

“The kind that keeps you from having friends in this town,” I said quietly. “Biologically speaking, she’s my daughter, not yours.”

“What?!? How is that possible? I conceived her, I carried her…” she held Charlotte closer to her and the child whimpered. I reached over and pulled some of the pain from the broken arm into myself.

“It’s possible because when you came to me for fertility treatment I exchanged five of my healthy eggs for five of your non-healthy eggs. I told you this when I did the treatment.” I suddenly felt tired. It’s very difficult to raise a child with this gift and it would be even worse with her living with a Brownie father.

“Why is her arm broken?”

“It’s broken because that’s the one thing I haven’t publicized. When someone in my family gives aid to another, we take on the physical illness that we claim to help. When I help someone’s headache, I get the headache. When I saved Charlotte and the rest of the babies, I took their symptoms into myself. Charlotte has the gift and she healed that bird’s broken arm, taking it upon herself.”

“But why? How does she know that she can help others?”

“It’s instinctual,” I told her. “We have no control over it: we just want to help others. My family has an obscenely high mortality rate for girls under age five who are born with the gift. Children that young don’t understand that they can get hurt and die while helping others and they will unknowingly help at the expense of their own health.”

“What can I do?”

“You have to keep her away from sickness. She can’t touch people who are ill because she will take their illness upon herself. And we need to teach her to control her instincts starting right now." Charlotte whined a little when her arm didn't do what she wanted it to. "But first and foremost, she needs to have her arm set by a doctor. I'm going to call Natalie and explain to her the situation. She'll keep everyone non-essential away from her. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No. I need to call Ralph and he's going to be pissed that I waited this long to tell him. I still don't know what explanation I'm going to give him. How often do toddlers break their arms at the park?" Tears leaked from her eyes as she stood with her daughter in her arms.

"Often enough. Kids are always falling down. Go. I'll call Natalie." They left while I went to my address book.

Nathan came into the room as Natalie answered. I turned towards him.

"Nat? It's Scarlet. Stacy is bringing Charlotte in with a broken arm. I need you to pay special attention that she stays away from other people."

"What? Why?" She sounded scared and I knew instintively that she was fearing the worst.

"It's not that. Charlotte is like me, but she's way too young to keep her powers to herself and if she's not careful she's going to hurt herself." I saw Nathan's eyes go wide, but he didn't reach for me.

"Okay." Natalie said slowly. "You're going to need to explain that one to me the next time you come to the hospital, but I'll do what I can to keep Charlotte safe. I just want to know. Did you know about this before?"

"Definitely not. I just did what I could to help her conceive. I did not know that this was even possible."

There was a noise in the background. "Ugh. I'm getting paged. I'll talk to you soon. Bye."

I hung up the phone and looked at Nathan.

"She's like you? What does that even mean?" he asked.

"Well, she took the broken arm from a bird in the park an hour ago. So I think that means that she's my heir, for lack of a better term."

"I thought that it passed from mother to daughter."

"It does. So I guess that technically Charlotte is my daughter."

"How?"

"I traded Stacy five of my eggs for 5 of her unhealthy ones."

Nathan let out a breath. "Wow." He sat in one of the wingback chairs and reached for me. I sat on his lap. "So you're a mom."

"No. I'm an egg donor. I hope to God that Ralph never doubts the paternity of Charlotte because I have a feeling that she'll come back with my DNA. If I've ever wondered where there's any scientific evidence of what I've done, I guess this is it. Crap." I wasn't ready to deal with a child who has my abilities; and certainly not a child whose father would possibly rather see her dead than possess them. He would have her exorsized immediately. I leaned my head against Nathan's drawing on his strength, though not literally.

"It'll be okay," he told me. And I almost agreed with him.

Healer Chapter 11

I woke up to the feeling of lips on mine.

“Whaa?” I opened my eyes and saw Nathan looking down at me. Oh, I wish I was more coherent in the morning—I felt like a moron.

“Good morning,” he whispered smiling.

“ ’Morning,” I groaned. “What time is it?” I looked around, trying to see the clock without my glasses.

“Early. I have to go so I can get ready for work.” He’d already gotten dressed. “Sorry for waking you up, but I didn’t want to just leave.”

“That’s sweet of you.” I blinked at the sunlight just starting to lighten the sky out the window.

“You don’t believe that,” he said, laughing softly. “You think I’m a jerk who needs to leave you alone so you can go back to sleep.”

“You’re a mind reader,” I chuckled. “But come here anyway.” I reached my arms up, wrapped them around his neck and kissed him thoroughly. “See you later?” I asked when I released his mouth.

“Oh hell’s yes,” he growled, his eyes slightly crossed. I laughed. He kissed my forehead before leaving the room. I rolled over and hugged the pillow he’d used the night before. There might then have been some uncontrollable giggling because, hell, spooning is fun! I couldn’t believe that Nathan had spent the night with me—Squee!

I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to memorize the exact feeling of his body next to mine. I’d spent my whole life feeling like a person who’d drawn the ultimate short straw. Who would want to date a girl who has the fury of an entire church—with magic aiding them, no less—against her? I’d spent my whole life just trudging along, praying to stay invisible, while wondering if any male would ever get the courage to get to know me. For all my ancestors had written about their talent, they hadn’t left me much information on their personal lives. I knew that they’d all gotten married at some point, otherwise I wouldn’t be here, but I didn’t know much about the husbands. All the siblings left town, I knew that. If I could, I would have left this town, but that’s one of the quirkiest quirks of this “gift”. The same personality trait that makes me give every ounce of myself to help people who don’t really want to have anything to do with me (though with the information I’d gained recently, my annoyance with that detail had greatly been redirected) also gives me no desire to leave. It’s not my house, it’s not the atmosphere, it’s not because I have some sick need to hurt myself. Nope. Great-Grandma Elizabeth had left for almost five years before she had to come back. She wrote five pages in the bible while she tried to figure out what it was that made her come back and she didn’t get very far. All of her entries have a certain amount of scorn about being back in this town. I don’t have much scorn—I’ve always just been resigned to the situation as one I could not change.

Now that Nathan was in my life, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. They say that it’s “better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all” and the way I felt right now, I think that’s true. Whatever the future brings, I’d always have this time to remember, so I was going to enjoy every second. Plus, I didn’t feel like getting out of bed, and I was too antsy to go back to sleep.

Eventually I did get up to take a shower and prepare for the day.

I was sleeping in the dark drawing room when there was a knock on my front door. It was five-thirty and I wasn’t expecting anyone, so when I opened my door and saw Nathan standing on my porch in jeans, I was slightly confused. He handed me a single yellow rose.

“What’s this for?” I asked, smelling it.

“Our one week anniversary,” he replied, stepping inside and greeting me with a kiss.

“Has it really just been a week? Sheesh.” I went into the kitchen and filled a bud vase for the rose. I put it in the center of my dining room table. “Very pretty.”

“You mentioned that you like to get flowers.”

“That, I do.” We sat in the chairs in the light drawing room. “How was your day?”

“Same old, same old. We did have a stolen car to track down. Some kids went joy-riding last night. Yours?”

“Average. Two bouts of Chemo.”

“You do a lot of cancer treatments?”

“Yeah. That and arthritis, with the occasional migraine. Most other things are too trivial for people to seek me out. Pain management is my main business.”

“That sucks.”

“Not really,” I told him. “I give over a lot of my energy when I do the treatment, so I go to sleep as soon as my patients leave. I only ache for a few minutes before I go into the other room and pass out for a few hours. I don’t feel the pain while I’m asleep.”

“Is that why the bed in that room is so comfortable?” He looked across the foyer to the other drawing room.

“Yep. That’s my recovery room. My mom just had a regular bed in there, but I used some of my first earnings to buy the best mattress I could find.”

“What happened to your mom? She’d always looked fine when I saw her around town; it was a shock when we heard that she’d died. ‘Course, Uncle Edward was thrilled, as you’d expect. He threw a little party for his followers to celebrate the deaths of all your relatives in town.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the least.” I hesitated to talk about my mom, though. Sure, I loved her, but I still resented what she’d done. “Let’s go start dinner,” I said, reaching for his hand.

He didn’t press the subject and we decided that we’d just have sandwiches and salads for dinner. We’d just settled in the den with our food when Nathan brought up the subject of my mom again.

“Are you going to talk about her eventually?” His eyes probed mine.

“Yes. Eventually. I’m just new to this whole sharing feelings thing and I’m not ready for that subject to be voiced. Forgive me?”

“Nothing to forgive. I asked a question and you don’t want to talk about it. I expect that will happen a lot in the course of our relationship, and on both sides of the table. I just hope that we’ll be able to talk about those things together at some point.”

“Speaking of not talking about feelings, then, what’s this about you being moody for months? Dalia did look worried about you.”

“Huh? Oh,” he blushed. “My ex-girlfriend cheated on me after nearly getting me to leave this town and I’ve been pissed off at her. I was very close to throwing everything away here and moving to California to be with her when I found out.”

“Someone would cheat on you?!” I was honestly shocked. “Why?”

“Why does that surprise you?” but his eyes looked amused. “No really, tell me why you think a girl would be out of her mind to cheat on me.” He took a bite of his sandwich and had to wrestle with a slice of tomato that fell out.

“Well,” I started, lowering my voice, “you’re incredibly modest and very sophisticated.” I wiped at the tomato juice on his chin with my finger and licked it clean.

“Careful or I’m going to go visit mars.”

I laughed. “Greasy, grimy gopher guts stuffed in lettuce,” I sang.

“Thank-you for that wonderful picture.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” I bit into my own sandwich, doing so very neat and primly.

“Well aren’t you Miss Classy”

“I exude elegance.”

“You exude something, but I’m not sure if it’s elegance.”

“I thought we decided never to refer to that incident.” I tried to sound controlled, but that really had been the most embarrassing moment of my life.

“Whoops! Sorry!” He looked aghast. “I was totally thinking kindness, confidence, and killer sex appeal. But graceful, you are not, which contradicts the idea that you’re elegant. I did not even think about that other thing. But if I may,” he started, holding his hand up so that I wouldn’t hit him, “I would say that I’ve never seen a sexier pile of mess than I saw when you saved those children. If men are biologically ingrained to find a woman who will be a great mother, then you set off all those sensors in me when you walked into that room knowing full well that you would come out of it in that state. In a world where many women care more about their appearance than anything else, it was a huge turn on when you gave that up to help others.”

I smiled at him. “Well, that’s very sweet for you to say, but I never want my bodily functions to be discussed in this house again. Ever.” I narrowed my eyes.

“Done.” He took another bite of his sandwich.

We debated what movie to watch, which somehow ended up in a philosophical argument on the meanings of Harry Potter, I’m not sure how, before we finally settled on Lucky Number Slevin—which, really ,was an easy decision because I hadn’t watched it yet and I had to return it to the library on Saturday no matter what.

The movie was good, but I spent a lot of it debating whether or not I was ready to talk about my mom. After we finished eating we’d stretched out on the couch together. His chest was very warm on my back and I wondered if I would ever feel like my mom did. I loved Nathan, or at least, I figured this was what love felt like. I could easily see us doing this every night. I could even see us having children if that ever becomes possible, though I was seriously wondering if that was the kindest thing to do in this town. He made me feel good about myself. I realized that I hadn’t really been living before, I’d just gone through the motions—waking up, doing my work, and pretending that I didn’t exist. Now I had someone to talk about things with, my relationships with others had been transformed, too.

Natalie and I had always been on friendly terms, but I’d never confided my worries with her before. I think she’d always tried to get me to share more, but I’d always wanted to protect her. The less people know me, the less fuel the Brownies would have to use against them. With the revelation about their magic, it was apparent that it was less safe for people I might want to call friends than I’d thought, but after tasting this new world, I couldn’t bear to let it go. Oh, I would in a heartbeat if it was the only way to save them, but I really, really didn’t want to.

I heard a soft snore and twisted around to look at Nathan’s face. He was out. Funny, I didn’t remember hearing him snore the night before—maybe it was a couch thing. I let him sleep and watched the rest of the movie confident that I would share everything with Nathan when he woke up.

As the credits rolled, I sat up and stretched, letting the arm that was around me settle onto my lap.

“Hmm…?” I was happy to see that Nathan looks as confused as I do when he first wakes up. “Wha did I miss?” he asked groggily.

“The whole movie…or at least everything after you fell asleep.”

“Oh.” He reached for me. “Back to sleep then.” He pulled me against him, his face rubbing against my neck. “You smell good.”

“Thank-you.” We were laying on our sides, looking at each other.

“You’re beautiful, too.”

“You’re just full of flattery. If I wasn’t sure otherwise, I’d say that you’re just trying to get laid.” I ran my fingers through his soft hair.

“I am trying to get laid, my equipment is just broken.”

“You wouldn’t say such things if you could get into my pants.” I told him, scowling.

“That is one hundred percent true. But that’s one of the beautiful things about being a modern guy in a superficial world. Women find it to be a total turn on when a guy really wants to do something but can’t for either physical or moral reasons and admits it to her. You ever read Twilight? Bella totally digs Edward more because he wants to drink her dry but is able to control himself, barely. It’s his “sacrifice”--see the air quotes?--that gives him a double bump in hotness.”

“Okay…the fact that you’ve read Twilight is subtracting from whatever sexy points you hoped to gain by admitting that you are trying to get into my pants, but can’t,” I said, poking him in the chest.

“Hey, it wasn’t my choice. My third girlfriend was obsessed with the books and I had to read them to understand what she was saying half the time. Let’s just say that it wasn’t my most honorable moment when I realized that more than half of the reason why I was breaking up with her was because of the Twilight thing.” He looked ashamed. “I really wasn’t paying attention when we started going out or I would have seen the precursors to that particular development.”

“What was wrong?” I realize that it’s probably not normal for a current girlfriend to be interested in the exes of her boyfriend, but with my limited relationship experience, I felt that it was important for me to know these things. I really liked that he wasn’t calling her weird, or a psycho-bitch for her obsession. His ability to speak so matter-of-factly about his exes told me that he didn’t feel the need to belittle them to make himself look better.

“Well, since we’re discussing things in terms of Twilight, I guess it was because she was a lot like Bella. She was always certain that I was going to leave her for someone better.”

I blushed. Hadn’t I already confessed to him that I knew that he was going to leave me for someone else?

He seemed to read my mind. “Hey, the discussion we had was completely viable—it wasn’t like you were telling me that I was going to leave you for someone taller, or skinnier, or blonde-er.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me that I’m short, fat, and brunette?” I scowled at him. He looked flabbergasted. “I’m just yanking your chain.” I smiled, kissing his cheek.

“Do not scare me like that! Do you realize how many guys have nightmares about the ‘does this dress make me look fat’ debate?” He looked relieved.

“Really? Girls actually do that and they want a serious answer? That sucks.” I was serious. A lack of girl, or guy, friends leaves you ignorant of these social norms. “I’d always thought that was just used in television and movies for comedic relief.”

“Yeah. It’s not one of their more flattering charms. But for the record, if you were to ever ask me that question, what do you want me to say?”

“You know how you reacted when you saw me come out of the bathroom wearing that dress? That was perfect.”

“Huh…but what if you literally use the words ‘does this dress make me look fat’? Even after my eyes bug out? Then how do you want me to answer?”

“I want you to be honest, because I don’t want to be dressed up and have everyone else think I look fat. I’d rather change. But if I see your eyes bug out, I probably won’t ask you that, because honestly, I could look like an elephant and I wouldn’t care after you looked at me like that.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “But you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not quick to test the theory that you want me to tell you that you look fat.”

“Fair enough. I don’t expect to have many opportunities to wear dress up clothes anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Nathan. Come on. Do you really want to publicize our relationship in this town?”

“Yes,” he said instantly. “It sounds cliché, but I want to scream it from the rooftops.” He smiled down at me.

“Do your parents know?” I asked quietly.

“No, but that’s because I wanted to talk about it with you first. You have as much invested in this relationship as I do.”

“I don’t think it will change my status any for your family to learn who you’re dating, but I think you should really re-think your screaming from the rooftops plan. It’s not an easy life that you want to enter. None of the husbands have had it easy and you can imagine the strain it puts on the marriage. I don’t have many personal accounts about the marriages, but there are a few complaints about how hard it was for the husband to get a job. Could you imagine losing your job because of me?”

He sighed. “This town sucks. You want to runaway together?” His arms tightened around me.

I laughed grimly. “I wish I could, but I physically can’t. I’ll get dragged back here by the magic just like Elizabeth did.” I paused. “Tell me about your past girlfriends.”

“WHAT?!” He didn’t quite shout but he definitely looked at me like I’d grown a second head.

“I don’t have any relationship experience, so I want to know what they did that made you break up with them. What they did that you liked. I’m not going to try and change myself to be like, or not like them, but I want to know why you dated them. To start off, what’s your type?”

“My type of girl? Sheesh. You don’t have any relationship experience—these aren’t questions girls ask of their boyfriends.”

I shrugged. “I don’t care what’s normal. I want to know what your type of girl is.”

He sighed. “I don’t think I have a type. Or at least not a specific type of physical appearance. My exes have all looked different—all shapes sizes and colors. My first girlfriend was my freshman year of high school. We weren’t very serious and dated for a few months. It was a mutual break up—we were more friends than lovers, I guess, if that makes sense since we weren’t having sex. My second girlfriend was Shelia. We got together junior year. She was my first…” he cleared his throat. “Anyway. We broke up after graduation, though I probably should have broken it off earlier. I think she just wanted to be with me because I looked good on her arm, but like I told you: I was a horny teenager—I wasn’t dating her for the conversations. And if you’re looking for a reason to think less of her as a person, then I’ll tell you that I wasn’t her first.” He searched my eyes, probably looking for evidence that he was telling me too much.

“I’m not surprised by that, but I don’t care. I have enough of my own problems to deal with to bother worrying about others. Anyway, that’s two. Then there was the third who was obsessed with Twilight…”

“We met in college and dated for two years, I guess. She got a bit clingy, like being with me twenty-four/seven would keep me from wanting to date others.”

“And finally the one who cheated?”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We met three years ago, after I’d started on the police force here. We hit it off immediately and got pretty serious quickly. But she is an ambitious woman. She thought that I should schmooze my way to be the youngest police chief ever. I ignored her prodding, since she wasn’t very pushy. She wants to make a name for herself and this isn’t the place to do that. She started looking for work in the big cities, travelling for interviews. She finally got an offer for a once in a lifetime position in California and we were talking about moving there when I accidently intercepted a text from some guy in New York looking for a hook-up. When I asked her about it, she broke down quickly telling me about all the guys she’d slept with on her way to the top, while still dating me. I guess she thought she’d get my sympathy because they were all ‘casting couch’ situations.” He huffed. “I think she wanted me to believe that it was rape, but if that were the case, why didn’t she tell me after the first time? Or at least, why did she let it happen more times? And worse: why did some of the guys have her phone number? Anyway. It didn’t take long for me to break up with her. I kept the apartment--yeah, we were living together--and she moved across the country. That was six months ago.”

“That bitch,” I said simply. He looked happy at that sentiment.

“Wow, that actually felt really good to get off my chest.” He started to pull me against his chest again, but I resisted.

“You shared a lot, so I guess I should share too.”

“Scarlet, you don’t have to.”

“No, I thought about it during the movie. I want to. I think it will make me feel better, too.” Now it was my turn to take the deep breath. “My mom committed suicide. I mean, in the only way one of my kind would, but it was still a conscious decision to do more than her body could handle. My dad was killed in a car accident when I was three—mom never forgave herself for not being able to save him. She didn’t neglect me, but she was never all the way there. We didn’t talk about many of the things teenage girls talk to their moms about, hence why my education about relationships is limited to what I read in books. She taught me the basics of the gift, but mostly left me to figure it out for myself from the bible. I guess that’s because she knew that I wouldn’t have her to lean on later. She mostly buried herself in work, leaving me to deal with my problems alone. The day after my sixteenth birthday she went to the hospital to do rounds and saved a man who was having a heart attack, having it instead for herself. Her files showed that she’d planned to kill herself for years. She’d left a will that dictated that I get everything and a notarized statement from a lawyer saying that she felt that I was capable of caring for myself and that I should be ruled an emancipated minor. Well, this town being how it is, nobody wanted to take me in as a foster kid, nor did they want to publicize to the state that they didn’t care about ‘one of their own’, so a judge here, heavily under the influence of Rev. Brown, ruled in that favor. At barely sixteen I was left alone in the world. But I don’t blame my mom. I only hope that I love…someone as much as my mom obviously loved my dad.” Surprisingly, the tears didn’t come.

Nathan looked stricken. “I don’t care that you don’t blame your mom, that’s horrible.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that it wasn’t/isn’t horrible, but I have clients who are clinically depressed—trust me when I say that it is a terrible existence that no one should have to deal with. I don’t want to be so dependent that I commit suicide, but to feel that amount of love that causes it, just for a little bit, would be wonderful. I guess it’s because I’ve never really felt loved before.” I couldn’t look at his face.

He tilted my chin up until my eyes met his. “I love you. Period. End of statement. And as a man who loves you I can tell you that if anything happens to me, I do not want you to ever hurt yourself, especially if we have a child that needs to be cared for. I’m sorry that your mom went through what she did, but you are stronger than that.”

I held up a hand, “You’re speaking to the choir. It took me a long time to forgive my mom, and my first experience with a severely depressed patient greatly helped me do that. She needed help and she didn’t seek it. I want the love—NOT the mental illness. I think my dad rolled over in his grave when mom killed herself.”

“You have the love,” he said, smiling down at me. I kissed him.

“We’ll see. You haven’t met that tall, skinny, blonde who can have sex with you yet,” but he just laughed at that.

It was nearly midnight when we finally decided to turn in. Nathan went out to his truck to grab a backpack that he’d brought some clothes in.

 “I do not want to sleep in jeans again,” he declared. I went into the bathroom to change and brush my teeth, but was interrupted halfway through the latter when Nathan knocked on the door. “Scoot over,” he instructed. He was shirtless again, wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and I took the time to marvel at his chest and back while he brushed his teeth. There is only one sink in the bathroom, so we fought over who got to spit and rinse first. He followed me to the bedroom and once again we fell asleep entwined in each other’s arms.

Healer Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I didn't wake up until nearly 7:30.

"Shit," I grumbled groggily. I quickly grabbed my stuff and stumbled to the nurse's station. "Can I borrow your phone?"

"Sure." The nurse smiled in a way that made me worry.

"Nathan, hey. Sorry about being late. I didn't expect to sleep so long."

"It's fine. I called the hospital when I got here and you weren't back yet. They told me you were still sleeping in the lounge." I glanced at the nurse and she was giggling. Apparently my sex-life, or lack-there-of, was the big news of the week. "I've been eating your chili and reading your books, but I'm bored. You should come home." His tone was low, seductive. I blushed, which just made the nurse, she looked sixty, twitter louder.

“I’m leaving now.” I tried to make it sound light, I’m not sure how well that came across. I replaced the phone, trying not to meet the eyes of the nurse.

As I put my purse on my shoulder she said, just loudly enough for me to hear, “That’s a fine man you’ve got. And I do mean fine.” She winked at me. It took a lot of self-control for me to not run out of the hospital.

Nathan greeted me at the door with a kiss and led me into the den. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and I’d noticed his truck in the driveway.

“What’s this?” I asked as he gestured for me to sit on the couch.

“I’m welcoming you home after a long day of work, with a bowl of chili that, okay, you cooked. Let me take off your shoes and rub your feet.” He’d handed me the bowl of chili and tugged my legs onto his lap. I twisted so that my back was resting on the arm of the couch. It was nice.

“But…why?” My body squirmed involuntarily as his hands began to work their magic on my feet.

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about you during the last two days. And I realized that sex is just a minor part of a healthy relationship…

“Dr. Ruth would beg to differ,” I interrupted.

“And I don’t want to lose you because of something so minor,” he finished, ignoring my interruption. “Plus I’ve been thinking about your power and what exactly happens to me. I don’t feel poorly while I’m under your spell,” Not my spell! I wanted to shout, but refrained. “And I have some awareness. So, I don’t see why we need to let it stop us.” His right hand left my feet and started massaging its way up my leg. It felt delicious, but I realized what he was trying to do.

“Wha…stop!” I slid my legs off of him and moved away, setting the chili on the table.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Nathan held his hands up. “I thought you wanted…”

I shook my hands at him. “You’re fine. It’s me.” Stupid, stupid man! Oh this was awkward. “Look, I get what you’re offering me, but it’s not what I want. I… uh…I need for you to be here for that. I can’t just use you.” I knew my face was bright red.

“Oh…um…you’re a virgin?” He looked embarrassed.

“Yeah.” I said shortly, not looking at him.

“Okay. I…uh…didn’t think about that. Of course you wouldn’t want to just throw yourself at me. Not that you would do that if you weren’t a virgin. Umm…”

I laughed, a little hysterically, “Oh there are plenty of ladies at the hospital who would jump your bones at the slightest wink, whether or not you’re mentally present.” I sobered some. “I need a bit more guidance.”

“No problem.” Nathan tentatively handed me back my bowl of chili and reached for my feet again. I ate while he rubbed and told me about how dull his day had been. “I parked centrally downtown for three hours and I was only reprieved from that when the chief called me to do a coffee and donut run. Do not make any jokes,” he said, raising his finger and glaring.

“I’d never.” I said sagely. “Were they jelly?”

Nathan grabbed my empty bowl while reaching to tickle my side. I’m incredibly ticklish and I don’t think I’d told Nathan that yet. I squealed and squirmed, trying to avoid his hands, but there wasn’t much room to maneuver on the couch and he was adept at keeping me from escaping. I tried to tickle him back, but that wasn’t affective. I needed relief; I couldn’t breathe because I was laughing so hard. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to mine, rubbing myself against him. It worked and he froze.

“Hah.” I gasped. “I found your Achilles heel.” I looked up at him while I got my breathing under control—he’d straddled me at some point and before he’d froze he’d put his hands on both sides of my head to keep his weight off of me. His mouth was still in kissable range and his expression was scorching, even with his eyes half-closed. I kissed him again while I pulled his desire away.

His mouth started moving against mine again, but uncertainly. I was contemplating whether I should take his shirt off while he seemed to be confused about what to do with his tongue. We kept kissing as his confidence grew and my desire faded to a more natural level.

I pulled back from him. “Do you really think we should do this?”

“I want to. It feels weird, but I love kissing you,” he said, moving to put his mouth back on mine.

“What do you mean it feels weird?” I asked, pushing on his shoulders gently to make him look at me.

“Huh? Oh, I’m not sure. I mean, I’m kissing you with part of me literally shut off. It feels good... no...great, but I actually have to think about it. I guess I’ve been using my natural instinct to kiss before, and now I’m stuck using my real brain.” He smiled down at me nervously. “I hope I’m doing a good job: I’ve never been worried about my kissing skills before, which is actually a bit arrogant now that I think about it.

“Well, the girls at the hospital want to know whether or not you’re a good kisser, so I’ll tell you the same thing I told Natalie: I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been really kissed before,” I admitted.

“Wow. I’m your first for everything then?”

“Yeah.” I liked the implications of that statement.

“Talk about pressure. You’ll measure every man that succeeds me up to the standard that I set.”

“What makes you think that there will be other men?” I asked a bit indignantly.

“Good,” he growled and kissed me possessively. “Are we official yet?”

“What?”

“Fred will want to know that you’re officially considering yourself my girlfriend. I’m not pressuring you or anything, but I’ve never felt this strongly about a woman before.”

I sighed and looked up at him. Half of me was screaming to say yes because I really thought I was falling in love with him. The other half of me was saying no because I really thought I was falling in love with him. But falling in love with him meant that I was going to hurt a lot when he decided that he needed more than foot massages, good food, and the occasional ten minute kissing match.

“What’s wrong?” he asked after I hadn’t said anything for five long minutes.

“I just don’t want to get hurt,” I said finally, my voice strained. I pushed against his chest to tell him to move so that I could sit up.

“I won’t hurt you, ever,” he told me firmly, settling next to me with his arm around me.

“Not now. But what happens in six months, a year, when you decide that you need sex? You already offered yourself for me to use as a…” I couldn’t say it. “Sure, we would both get carnal satisfaction, but I know it’s not enough, even if I could do things that way with you.” Tears escaped my eyes and I wiped them away furiously. “I realize that you aren’t shallow, but let’s face the facts. You are a man, you have needs, and I can’t fulfill them.”

“There are plenty of ways for me to get satisfaction without your help and without cheating on you.”

“I know that. And I’m actually a girl who doesn’t believe that that stuff is cheating, so please feel free to use those outlets. But that’s still not going to replace the pleasure that comes from physically being with a woman—you are going to desire that and no matter how much you fight it, you are going to leave me to be able to lie in the arms of another. And I hope to God that when you do, we won’t be together because I don’t take kindly to cheaters.”

“I’m not going to cheat on you. I’m stronger than you give me credit for.”

“Now. But think about the future. Do you really thing that you can sustain yourself with magazines?”

“I can when I have you to cuddle with afterwards. And what about you? Are you telling me that you will be satisfied with being a virgin your whole life? Or are you going to want a man who can send you to the moon without taking a vacation there himself? I might call you a saint because you give more of yourself than you have, but when it comes to this, you have no more self-control than I have.” He glared at me, daring me to try and top that. Then he waggled his eyebrows at me, ruining the effect.

I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to laugh or cry. I hugged him. “Ugh. It’s stupid of me, and I will be a sappy mess when it ends badly, but right now I just want to be with you,” I told him, my head resting on his shoulder.

I felt his breath on my neck. “I promise that if I ever feel the need to sleep with a woman, you will be the first to know.”

I sat back and looked at him. “And if I ever get the desire to…uh…change my virginal status, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Good. Then I can set up some mood lighting and music and draw you a few diagrams to guide you along after I take my mini-vacation. ‘Put item one into hole two…’” I smacked him playfully and he pulled me tight against him. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured into my hair.

“Yeah.”

After awhile I sat up and looked at him shyly. “Do you want to stay the night?”

“Yes,” he said instantly. He followed me up stairs to my bedroom. I grabbed some pajamas out of my drawer before going into the bathroom to change and brush my teeth. Nathan had already taken his shirt and belt off and was standing barefoot waiting for me. He was just as muscled as I’d imagined. I knew that nothing would happen tonight, but I was still suddenly nervous.

“Uh…if you want to brush your teeth, there’s an extra toothbrush on the counter in the bathroom,” I told him, awkwardly jerking my arm to point out the door.

He grinned. “Ah, the subtle hint that my breath stinks.”

“Wait, what? I didn’t say that at all!” But he was already walking past me to the bathroom. It took me a full minute to realize that he’d said that only because he could tell I was anxious. I grabbed a pillow off the bed and stood to the side of the door so that he wouldn’t see me when he walked in. It made a satisfying thump when it connected with his stomach.

“Hey! What was that for?” He asked wearily, raising his hands to show me he was unarmed as I readied myself for another attack.

“For implying that I would complain about your breath.” I swung my pillow at his head, but missed. Nathan took the time that I was off balance to grab another pillow from my bed, arming himself. He smacked me on the butt while I finally did hit him over the head. We both got our fair share of hits, tickles, and kisses before falling onto the bed laughing, our legs hanging off the end.

He brushed my hair out of my face before resting his hand on my stomach. “I love you.”

My breath caught…probably not a good thing since I was already trying to catch my breath from laughing so hard… “Woah.”

“Too soon?” he asked, wincing. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I love you, too, I just wasn’t expecting you to say it first.” I grinned at him.

He kissed me deeply, before standing and pulling me up with him. He turned down the comforter and gestured for me to climb into bed. He tucked me in before turning out the light and walking around the bed to get in next to me. We fell asleep cuddled together.

Healer Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I started Thursday morning by cleaning out my refrigerator. My supply of leftovers wasn’t very large especially since I’d actually been able to get all that lasagna eaten, but there was some stuff that I put into my compost pile. I still had some ground beef that needed to be cooked, so I started a pot of chili with some beans I’d started soaking the night before and some vegetables that were getting old in the fridge. I still had an hour before Jill Green was due for her appointment so I called the florist and ordered some flowers to be sent to the family of Sarah Mahoney. Then I went into my garden to pick vegetables and pull weeds.

I’d left a sign on my front door telling Jill to come around the back if I didn’t answer the front door and as suspected, I didn’t hear her arrival. I brushed my knees off and we went into the house.

Jill was not even forty years old when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She’d had a double mastectomy a year ago, but it hadn’t stopped the cancer from spreading. It didn’t keep her from being in great spirits, though. Jill might know that she doesn’t have long left to live (her last doctor’s appointment had not left her with the best news), but it doesn’t stop her from living life to the fullest. If she didn’t tell people that she is sick, you’d never know. She’d made the decision to stop traditional treatment two months ago, but she still comes to me weekly and sometimes calls to help when she’s having a bad day and does some other alternative treatments. Her doctors are surprised that she has lasted this long, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets another two good months. Some people might think she’s not a fighter when they hear that she stopped conventional treatment, but I’ve known her for 3 years and she’s fought for every day of life.

“How was this past week?” I asked her as we sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of each of us. When she transferred to alternative medicine only, she’d insisted that we move our sessions out of the light drawing room—since, she told me, there were a dozen people using me to supplement their traditional treatments and she didn’t want to be reminded of the way she’d felt during that time of her life. So, we sit at my kitchen table or we go for a walk for her session.

“Oh, it wasn’t too bad. Hank and I went to New York City last weekend and we saw a few shows on Broadway and went shopping. We saw a few museums, too. But I bet you want to know about my health. I had a bad night in New York, but it didn’t interrupt my good time too much. We stayed in, ate marvelous room service and watched a great movie. Even the most active travelers need to take a day to recuperate, so I looked at it as nothing specific to being healthily challenged.” Jill doesn’t like to say that she’s sick.

“That’s great,” I told her, smiling. We talked about her four children, the oldest of which was just starting high school, the youngest in third grade before she told me that she should get going and she gave me her hand.

Since she wasn’t actively suffering I couldn’t just grab a lump of pain. It was a much more subtle challenge I faced. I pumped her full of my healthy immune system while taking away the twinge of pain I sensed around the edges of her aura, grabbing the worry over the fate of her children out of her mind, and stealing the fear she keeps hidden from everyone. It took just minutes, but the effects were seen instantly. There was a healthy color in her cheeks and the tiny lines of worry around her eyes disappeared.

“Thank-you, Scarlet.” She said, kissing my cheek before getting into her car. I’d given her the basket full of vegetables that I knew would just go to waste in my house. Her husband Hank was waiting in the car. He always drives her, but she makes him stay in the car, never letting him see her at what she perceives as her worst. When our sessions became informal she still refused to let him come inside because she said that we were having girl-talk and it wouldn’t be girl-talk if there was a man in the room. I waved at Hank and he waved back in reply.

I went back into the house to watch a movie. I never feel awful after helping Jill, but I wasn’t my usual self. I’ve often tried to describe the various feelings I have after helping people. Sometimes it’s easy—pain or nausea—and sometimes it’s nearly impossible. I guess that’s because sometimes my feelings make no sense, especially when I’m removing feelings that I cannot relate to, such as a worry about children that I do not have.

By the time the movie was over I felt normal again, so I stirred the chili and went back to the garden. Robert’s treatment had been scheduled for ten that morning so once I’d eaten lunch I called the hospital to ask when he might want a visitor. I was told that he didn’t want visitors until after three o’clock.

I called Nathan’s cell phone telling him that I was going to the hospital that afternoon and that if I wasn’t back by the time he got here, he was welcome to come in and get a bowl of chili.

I went up to my office to start the paperwork early. I had two appointments for Friday and they were both going to be tough. I wrote out receipts for both of those appointments as well as a deposit slip with the checks I’d already collected this week. It wouldn’t be difficult to add two more Saturday morning if I wasn’t up to it Friday night. I also started organizing my receipts for my accountant: I had to take her the quarter’s receipts on Monday. Since I work out of my home I have to attempt to differentiate between expenses for my home and expenses for my business. Or at least Penny wants me to do that. I keep telling her that it’s too much work to try and figure out how much of my cleaning supplies go to clean work spaces or how much water I use to serve tea and flush the toilet while clients are here. I’d finally convinced her to be happy deducting ten percent of my home property taxes since there are about ten rooms in my house and I use one specifically for my business (I didn’t tell her about the dark drawing room, which she would try to convince me is a business room). She also wants me to keep track of my pro bono work and deduct that. I think she just really hates taxes and looks for any way for her clients to pay less. It gives me a headache and since I have more than enough money to take care of myself, even after taxes, I don’t have any desire to try and keep more for myself. Whenever she asks me about pro bono work, I always tell her that I did about ten hours worth, about a thousand dollars. In reality, the one time I’d counted the hours, I’d worked for free almost as often as I worked for pay.

My phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Scarlet, I’m glad to reach you. It’s Stacy.”

“Hi Stacy. What’s up?”

“No emergencies,” she laughed. “I just finally found time to say thank-you for saving Charlotte.”

“You’re welcome, though you know I’d always help if I’m physically able.”

“You sure are a good Christian woman, I don’t care what my husband says.”

“Thank-you for those sentiments. I don’t hear that much in this town.”

“Are you going to be free this weekend? I’d like to visit and bring Charlotte. Ralph is going to a football game Sunday afternoon with some of his buddies, so it will be easy to get away.”

I looked down at my calendar. “Yeah, I’m free Sunday. Feel free to come over whenever you can.” I didn’t like that she had to sneak behind Ralphs back, but in the world we lived in, it was required.

“Awesome. Well, I need to feed Charlotte. I’ll see you Sunday.”

“Alright. Bye.”

I finished checking the figures in my accounting ledger and put the receipts into an envelope. It was two o’clock and I decided to go to the hospital early.

Natalie cornered me as soon as she saw me walk in.

“I don’t kiss and tell.” I said automatically.

“You’d better!” and she dragged me to her office and pushed me into a chair, hovering over me. “Spill.”

“There is nothing to spill. You know that we’ve been together. Is it really so shocking that we’ve kissed each other?”

“Oh, I guessed that you two have kissed before, but what’s really important is knowing what kind of kisser he is. That wasn’t just a peck of friends saying goodbye; that was a sneak attack kiss. And it curled our toes, too—that is mine and the nurses. Come on. We’ve all fantasized about Nathan—is he as great a kisser as he looks?”

“Yes?” I told her, emphasizing the question mark. “I really wouldn’t know, seeing as how he was my first real kiss.”

“Well, does he make your blood boil?”

“He makes your blood boil when he kisses me—do you really think that he doesn’t make mine?”

“Point—stupid question. Does he slobber?”

“What? No. Definitely not.”

“Is he gentle? Or does he show his dominance?”

“Gentle, I guess, but that’s because of the problem.”

“Oh, right.” She looked disappointed. “So you haven’t gotten a fully passionate kiss from him? That sucks. You need to work through that problem quick because inquiring minds want to know what that man looks like naked.”

“Natalie!” I blushed and decided that she did not need to know about our potion make-out session.

“If you can’t tell us, then just take a picture—I’ve heard that they’re worth a thousand words.”

“NATALIE!”

She giggled. “Weren’t you planning on visiting Robert this afternoon?”

“Yes, that’s the only reason I came here today—not to be interrogated.”

“Well, he should be wanting visitors now,” she stepped back, allowing me to stand up. “You may go.”

Robert was napping when his mom let me into his room.

“I’m sorry you came all this way to visit him,” she whispered.

“Actually, I was wondering if you would let me help him feel better. I have a special talent and many people have benefited from my services.”

“You’re that Scarlet?” she looked shocked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We can’t pay you. Our insurance is barely willing to pay for the treatments we’re currently getting.” Her expression was actually one daring me to demand payment.

“I don’t expect you to pay me. I’m volunteering my services because I can help.” This was not the first time I’d had this conversation and when I’ve put myself in others’ shoes, I’ve had the same level of skepticism. “This is my standard contract, for legal purposes,” I told her, handing her the form. I’d already filled it in for her.

She read it over rather thoroughly. “So you’re going to take away the symptoms of the chemo?”

“Yes.”

“But not the cancer?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“My talent doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid. I wish that it did, but I can only take away symptoms.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit convenient for you?”

“It’s as convenient for me as it is to the American Cancer Society that there isn’t a cure for cancer. When a cure for cancer is made, the ACS will no longer be necessary and how many people currently working in the organization would be out of work then? I’m not the only person making a living off cancer and other illnesses, but trust me when I say that I would cure it if it were physically possible, but it’s not. I do what I can.”

“What help do you give? You do not do anything to heal the disease.” She looked furious that I wasn’t the immediate fix that she would give her life for.

“I help people want to live. I know that the side-effects of chemo can be worse than the symptoms of the disease it’s supposed to fight. Many people give up the will to live purely because they tire of the pain and fatigue that comes from the treatment that often has poor results. I make them feel good so they can get out and live when the alternative is to lay in bed and wonder if death is better.”

Robert’s mother had tears in her eyes. “Do it. Please. I know he’s in pain, no matter how he tries to hide it. I just want my son back.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I walked over to Robert and laid my hand on his. Like I’d done hundreds of times before I pulled out the pain, the nausea, the fatigue that so many people pray will give them life. I don’t belittle the benefits of chemo and I know that it’s greatly extended, and saved, many of my clients’ lives. But for many people who get the treatment, their quality of life is lessened because of the side effects. I wish that I could help more cancer patients get more out of their treatments—help more people get the energy to get out and enjoy the world, but I’m only one person who can’t really leave this town.

Robert’s eyes opened as I took my hand away. “Woah. I feel great.” I smiled down at him, trying not to let him see my pain. “Mom, that’s the best treatment I’ve had so far!”

“Yeah, honey. It was experimental. I’m glad you’re feeling good. No. No, don’t get out of bed yet.” The tears that had been threatening finally did spill out of her eyes. She quickly wiped them away and moved to keep Robert from jumping out of bed. “Thank-you.” She murmured to me. I took that as permission to leave and nodded to her as I walked out of the room. I leaned against the wall with my eyes closed, debating whether I could work up the energy to find an empty couch or bed. Someone took my arm, and led me away from the wall.

“Come on, let’s find you a place to lie down.” I recognized the voice of Dr. Vickers.

“Thanks.” I said, leaning against his arm.

“Sorry it’s not more private, but all the rooms are in use right now.” He’d brought me to the EMS lounge and helped me lay down on one of the couches. He brought me a pillow and blanket from the nurse’s station and I fell asleep quickly.