Red Dust

 

Part I

 

 

Irving

 

 

Most winters melt leisurely into spring, but the winter of 2615 passed like sugar through a broken sieve.  Dark earth, burnt under a blistering sun, choked vegetation and coated Irving Village in red dust.  There would be no spring planting this year.

 

Ernesta Hilling, used to spring planting, knelt on the path to her barren acres and traced an X in the dust.  Writing, what is it good for?  Silliness came to mind as her niece Faith, pried open a rusty gate. Plain silliness.

 

“It’s nigh on noon.” Ernesta glared at the girl’s armload of books. “Where’ve ya been?”

 

“My studies took longer today. The Sisters-”

 

“The Sisters. That daft lot will lead you down a dark path sure as they did your Uncle.” Ernesta crossed herself. “Get on in the house with ya and put those dang books down.  You’re to trade for some ale and whiskey at market-we’ve company for supper.”

 

“Yes, Aunt.”

 

Ernesta sucked her teeth at the girl’s slow gait. Fast enough for the likes of the Sisters, but never so fast to raise a dust rag, or milk the cows.

 

***

 

Faith didn’t care much for her aunt’s “company”-or drinking buddies as the village folk called the old women. Company meant slaving in the kitchen. Company meant listening to crass talk. Talk like that of the market rat Billy Hager. Sure enough, today he stood behind the counter of his father’s general store, insulting the customers. Faith held her cloth covered pail behind her back. Maybe Billy would ignore her and go for easier game.

 

“Red Dust,” he called to Faith, pointing wickedly at her soiled boots. “Come down to trade Auntie’s curdled milk?”

 

“For adulterated spirits? Yes,” Faith replied.

 

A few of Billy’s cronies snorted, others slapped the wooden counter filled with bottles of brew. “Miserable old woman sent James Hilling to his grave,” said one of Ernesta. Another slapped Billy’s hand, “This young witch didn’t do him any good either.”

 

“One bottle of ale and one rye whiskey.” Faith banged the pail on the counter, and a squirt of milk flew through the cloth hitting the offending customer square in the eye. “Test my patience, Brother Hager, and I will give you the same bath as your filthy friend.”

 

The men backed away, grousing at the honorific. “Brother!  He ain’t been to devotions since knee-high,” said the dirtiest one in the group.

 

“That’s enough.” Billy tried to look fierce, but his eyes gave him away. “Got time for a story?” he asked Faith.

 

“No.”

 

“Come on. I can tell you things you won’t find in those books of yours. Herbs and flowers-can’t do diddle without them calling you witchy.”

 

Faith bristled. Billy Hager had a black heart, yet they called her witch. If she took off her glove and touched his grimy skin, she’d know exactly what he was about, but the thought of touching such a scoundrel made her queasy. She’d have to settle for words instead. “What do you know about anything?”

 

“Lots.” Billy grinned and leaned on the counter. He pushed a sack of spirits toward her, and gave her a free peppermint, then grabbed the pale of milk. “Our ancestors flew in the air, and raced boats without sails-big boats. Bet that’s not in your books.”

 

“Neither is their taste for destruction.”

 

“Gloomy girl. I’m gonna get out of this town-sail one day, and see everything. Don’t you want to come with me?”

 

Faith wanted nothing more than to “see everything”, as long as it wasn’t red dust. Dust drove her aunt deeper into the rye sack and meaner toward Faith’s studies. “Money slipping away, slipping away to dust and all you can do is read those damn books.”  Her aunt’s agony over the lack of coin and fair trade drove Faith closer to the Sisters and their teachings. Closer to the village gate.

 

“You’re like me,” Billy said.

 

Faith doubted it, and let him know with a loud sigh.

 

“You’ve got the gift-different, but you’ve got it same as me.”

 

“Nonsense.” Faith backed away before he could touch her. “If you are so brave, Brother Hager, then stop talking and leave the village.”

 

“I will!” Billy grew red-faced. “And when I do, you can shine my shoes at the village gate.”

 

Faith looked Billy up and down seeing right through to his heart, but it wasn’t black at all; satin red like the dust on her shoes. 

  

***

 

Faith walked slowly under the beating sun. She turned off the main square-a short distance from her aunt’s home- and watched the sailors unload crates from a tall sleek ship. The black and green sails told its origin to be from Greenford, the north side of Amerika proper. Greenford, being a big town would be enough of everything to see, at least to Faith’s curious mind. Yes, quite a bit of everything.

 

“Hold, lass. Mind your dress or my men will muck it up.” A lanky man with captain’s stripes leaned forward to catch her arm. “What are you doing on the pier? Are you looking for someone?”

 

“What?” Faith stared up into his face. She’d never seen anyone like him before: warm skin glowing like milk coffee, and a kink of black hair cropped close to his head. Unlike his men, he was cleaned-shaven. She wondered if he could even grow a beard on his soft skin. Kindness emanated from the man, but men like him weren’t allowed into the village. They had to stay back on the boat once the cargo was unloaded. Dark souls, the pig-minded villagers of Irving call them.

 

“Have you never seen a vessel like this before?” he asked.

 

Faith knew he figured her silence for ignorance of tall boats, but Billy’s rattling tales of high-powered machines dwarfed the fine rig. “Is this your boat?”

 

“This, young lady, is a ship. And no, I do not own it-my mistress, Meredith Stuart, does.”

 

“Does she own you too?” Faith grew alarmed when the warm smile slipped from the Captain’s face. The Sisters had told her to do no harm to others in manner or action, unless it was Billy Hager. “I meant no harm. I-”

 

“You think the whole world is like your narrow little village.” The Captain moved away from Faith, but stopped his retreat when he saw the silver bracelet on her wrist. “You are of the Sisters?”

 

The chill left his dark eyes, and relief flooded Faith, washing away a seldom experienced touch of remorse. “Yes,” she replied.

 

“That explains a great deal.”

 

It didn’t explain a thing to Faith, but she refused to ask the captain what he’d meant thanks to Billy’s taunts about her ignorance. Her competitive drive gave her courage to seek out something new. “I must go home now, but may I come aboard your ship in the morning? I would like to see the deck.”

 

“My men dislike being away from home too long, and it’s been a very long trip from the Southlands. The air in that place is heavy with foul smells of loathsome creatures. Pray with your Sisters that red dust is all you have to contend with. So, young lady, regretfully, we sail for Greenford tonight.”

 

“Oh.” Disappointment replaced remorse. Faith wasn’t one to hope. Hope left one pale and wanting, wasting precious energy to learn, but this dashed opportunity hurt a bit.

 

“Maybe one day we’ll see you in Greenford. Lady Meredith would be intrigued.”

 

“I do not understand.”

 

“Yes,” the Captain stroked his chin. “I suppose you wouldn’t.”

 

Faith drew closer to this enigmatic yet kind man and touched his arm. “I wish you a good trip, Captain.”

 

“My name is Malcolm. No harm comes to me or mine on the sea, but thank you all the same.” Malcolm pushed up his sleeve, revealing a silver chain snaked twice around his dark wrist.

 

“Peaceful voyage,” she said, holding up her palms as the Sisters had taught. Gentle, kind Malcolm, she thought, hurrying toward home.

 

 

***

 

Faith entered the house looking a sight: hair damp from the heat, clothes bathed in red dust, and the sack of spirits sagging in her arms. Her own spirits sagged when her aunt’s strange company bade her welcome.

 

“You’re Faith,” The man said as if she didn’t know her own name. “She has slim hips, Ernesta, but she’s quite a beauty just as you said. Her hair reminds me of my wheat fields. Do you expect a yield this year?”

 

“Not much of one, but thank His Reverence we’ve got your hay coming in from the ship. The cows won’t starve.” Ernesta moved closer to the stranger’s chair and leaned in close. “I’ve had many a slender one come into fold, if you catch my meaning.”

 

Faith frowned. A blind frog couldn’t miss Ernesta’s meaning if she tossed it with a brick. Faith laid the sack on a table. She may be boiled from the sun, but she wasn’t a heifer in heat. Yet, this man appraised her like she was one of Ernesta’s cows.

 

“Faith, say hello to George Shackler- he’s a cousin on my father’s side.”

 

“A pity we’ve never met before,” Shackler eyed her like a thirsty man lost in the desert.

 

“She’s my James’ niece, not mine.” Ernesta sniffed the air like a hunting dog. “What reason would she have to meet any of my kin until now?”

 

Shackler stood and kissed Faith’s hand after forcing it from her hip. He was dark, but not like kind Malcolm. More of a light cream; sticky and sweet. Faith let her hand go limp, and Shackler finally release it.

 

“Did you come from the ship?” Faith asked.

 

“Yes, and I had a nice voyage too if you’d care to know.”

 

Unfazed by the gentle rebuke, Faith continued, “Will you reside in this house while in Irving?”

 

“Well-”

 

“Faith, have you lost your senses, girl? Who ever heard of the betrothed staying under the same roof?”

 

Betrothed?

 

“I have a room at Mandrake’s Inn,” Shackler said, returning to his chair, and Ernesta’s slavish pampering. “I hope she is healthy. I need strong sons this time.”

 

This time? What happened to his first wife?  Only wife, Faith corrected her thoughts. She would no more marry this oily snake than dance naked in the village square like Billy did when he was drunk off his father’s spirits.

 

“She’ll give you plenty, George.”

 

Faith didn’t look at her aunt’s greedy eyes, nor did she see the lump of gold coins in her pocket. Instead, she put on her apron and went into the kitchen to serve up her aunt and oily cousin George, a supper they’d never forget.

 

 

***

 

The moon hung low in the purple sky, and a pair of village lamp men climbed ladders to aid its weak light. Red dust seemed to make everything glow beneath the yellow lights, even the rocky path Faith traveled to the village square. She’d passed the sleek ship on her way, watching a throng of rats scurrying on the pier. Their number was more than usual, but maybe big ships brought more rats-Southlands rats, big and black as the cloak she wore.

 

Faith sat down her bags and scanned the square. Maybe her timing was off, or Papa Hager’s spirits were locked away, for Billy was nowhere in sight. Praise the Sisters, she thought. Billy’s naked hide-though taut and slender-was not to her liking. She suspected no one’s hide was.

 

Faith went to the general store and chucked a pebbled against a second story window, calling the heathen boy out.

 

***

 

Billy turned in a tortured dream. No, the wicked did not sleep well. His arm hung over the side of the bed, and fingers brushed the bag half-hidden beneath. The bag held his lifetime of stealing dreams in the nature of his father’s dry goods: tanned hides, tobacco, linens taken from boxes off the ship at the pier. He was especially proud of pilfering the linens-they’d fetch a nice price when he left town. If he left town. And the spirits, let’s not forget the spirits.

 

Bottles of gin chased the man though his dream, calling him a low born thief. Billy woke from his drunken nightmare at the ticking sound on his bedroom window. He got up, and looked out, then rubbed his eyes.

 

“Nightshade’s come to get me!” he cried out, confused by the dark robed vision standing below. A child’s tale of ghosts and devils came back to him: bad children go down below if they steal. Billy guessed he was busted because stealing was his thing. He opened the window slowly.

 

“Leave me, cursed Nightshade. I made my offering to the Sisters.”

 

“Fool.” Faith removed her hood. “I wish to see everything. Are you ready?”

 

Billy smirked and pulled off his shirt.

 

“I have already seen that,” Faith said. “Do you want to go or not?”

 

“Now?”

 

“Do you think I came at this hour to pray with you?”

 

“Wait. Wait for me.” Girl has the stones of a Nightshade-ready for adventure at this hour.

 

Billy dressed, and reached beneath the bed to get his loot. “What the-” He drew back his hand after brushing against something cold and furry. “Damn rats.” He kicked the dead creature aside and grabbed the bag.

 

Before leaving through the opened window, Billy looked around his room for the last time, waiting for a touch of sentimentality to seep in. It didn’t. He was glad of it and left.

 

***

 

“What made you change your mind?” Billy asked. The dark streets gave him a chill. They were good for dancing in while drunk, but not safe for walking with a Sister girl. The village Brothers would kill him if they caught them together.

 

Faith told him about what happened earlier in her home. She held her breath. If Billy refused to go, she would be alone-a thing forbidden in the surrounding villages.

 

“Shackler? He’s big farmer up Southlands way. Never did a day’s work in his life-his servants do it. I can’t imagine you married to a gentleman.”

 

“Before tonight, I could not imagine standing in the village square with the village idiot, but here I stand.”

 

“Thief and drunk, I don’t mind, but idiot’s going too far.” Billy turned to the lattice, ready to climb back up.

 

“Did you steal the belongings in this bag?” Faith called to the market rat, knowing full well he did.

 

“Earnings…my earnings.” Billy grabbed his bag before she could peek inside. “How did you get out of the house without Ernesta and Shackler hearing?”

 

Faith reddened. “I fed them prunes with laudanum.”

 

“And they say I’m a criminal. You could be put away for practicing that kind of devilment.” Billy laughed. “What road do we take, my lady?”

 

“They will catch us before the sun comes up if we walk. We are going on a voyage, Brother Hager.”

 

“Don’t call me that.” Billy scratched his head. “What do mean, voyage?”

 

“That ship,” Faith pointed toward the pier, “is called the Stuart. We must hurry before it departs.”

 

“Who do you know on that ship?”

 

“I know the captain.” I know Malcolm.

 

 

***

 

“Do you see the captain anywhere on deck?” Billy asked. They stood on the pier watching the sailors load cargo for the last ten minutes, and Billy was pacing back and forth.

 

“Something is not right.” Faith recalled the pictures of ships in Billy’s purloined book. The Stuart’s long oars suspended in the air were made of metal, and the sails didn’t hang right. It made no sense for a ship about to embark.

 

“I’ve never seen one like this baby before either.” Billy took Faith’s hand, and they boarded the ship. “Let me do the talking.”

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” A beefy red-bearded man blocked their way. “This is not a passenger ship. Red dust whelps.”

 

“It was for Shackler.” Billy said, reasoning no gentleman of Shackler’s standing would bother to travel from the Southlands by coach.

 

“It’s not your business, farmer, but he’s a business associate of the family. Now be about your own business, and take the… woman with you.”

 

Faith stepped in front of Billy before he could move on the big man. She removed her silver chain. “Give this to Captain Malcolm. He will see us aboard.”

 

“You take me for a messenger boy? Howard, come here you pole cat. Take this here thing to the Captain. Tell him he has guests.”

 

“That’s more like it.” Billy waived impatiently at the retreating sailor.

 

“I’m Edward Stuart, First Mate.” Edward leaned closer to Billy, eying his bag. “In case Malcolm decides to throw you back into the dust, I can fix it for you to board.”

 

Billy balked.

 

“Give him something,” Faith ordered. Her tolerance for Billy’s haughty nature ran low in the humid night. “Now!”

 

Billy growled, but drew out the fine linens wrapped in an old blanket. “Something for your wife, if any woman was crazy enough to have you.”

 

“Watch it cur.” Edward discarded the blanket and stuffed the linens beneath his jacket.

 

Howard ran forward, and placed the bracelet in Faith’s outstretched hand. “Cap says take the Sister to Cabin One. You,” he indicated Billy, “sleep below in the hold.”

 

Edward laughed. “Guess Malcolm thinks you’ll tarnish the Sister’s virtue.”

 

“I am known as Faith.”

 

“Hush,” Billy whispered. “They don’t need to know you haven’t taken vows yet.”

 

Faith sighed, and followed the clumsy Howard to her cabin. She was sure Billy’s lying ways would get them in trouble before they docked in Greenford.

 

She said goodnight to Howard, and shook the red dust from her clothing before entering the cabin.

 

***

 

Faith was so amazed by the opulent cabin that she almost opened the door to inform Howard of his mistake, but on the dresser there was a written welcome from Malcolm: “Sleep well, little Sister.”  

 

Next to the note laid a lady’s brush, delicate with painted roses. Faith flipped it over and pulled away a strand of red hair. When she held it up to the light, a sensation of being watched poured over her skin like warm drops of water. 

 

Steel-grey eyes bored down on her from a portrait held securely on the wall. “Meredith Stuart. Are you the great lady?” Faith started at a knock on her door. “Come in.”

 

“Think you’re still at home?” Billy asked, immediately dropping into a chair after entering. “Why is the door unlocked?”

 

“I have nothing to steal.”

 

“Your auntie obviously didn’t teach you about traveling. It’s a good thing I’m here.”

 

“Indeed.” Faith took a blanket and dropped it on the floor for Billy.

 

“Thanks,” he sheepishly replied. “That sticky-fingered Edward took mine. And I can’t sleep down in the hold. You were right, Faith, something’s wrong,” he babbled on. “There’s no crew rowing, and the sails are wrapped tighter than my nerves. How are we moving? Machines, I tell you, machines.”

 

Is he gifted in reading thoughts? Lucky guess, she hoped. “Do you want a light left on?”

 

“I… What? You think I’m afraid of the dark?”

 

“You called me Nightshade.”

 

“She was real! Remember when you were a little girl, and you played patty cake?”

 

Little girl, yes, but Faith couldn’t recall playing that game, or any others. Yet, the words came to mind:

 

Nightshade, Nightshade, witches brew.

She made the children drink.

Nightshade put them in her stew,

She boiled them red and pink.

Nightshade, Nightshade, witches brew.

She’ll do the same to you.

 

“It is only a child’s tale.” Faith retrieved a gown and a towel from her bag. “We have our own washroom. I hope you intend to use it when I am done.” Red dust glowed in Billy’s blond hair and his clothes were dusty too. Faith glared at the scoundrel until he nodded.

 

“Let me tell you a story.”

 

“Not at this hour.” Faith shook her head.

 

“No, wait.” Billy stretched out on his blanket. “When we were kids-”

 

“Be brief.” Faith opened the washroom door.

 

“One of the Sisters-renamed as Luce-had to leave Irving. She was very beautiful and only eighteen years of age. Just a girl, I tell you. They called her Nightshade when-”

 

Brief.”

 

“Luce-was-a-witch. Goodnight.” Billy turned over on his blanket, feigning sleep.

 

“You are lying. The Sisters would have told me. What proof do you have?”

 

Billy kept his eyes shut.

 

“You lie.” Faith made the sign of the cross and prayed for more refined company like the beautiful Lady Stuart hanging on the wall. Then she locked the washroom door behind her.

 

***

 

For five days, the Stuart cut through the ocean waves like a hot knife. Billy barfed day and night; Malcolm did not greet them, and First Mate Edward made a nuisance of himself. This left Faith feeling lonely on the upper deck since Edward’s prattle failed to pierce her curious mind.

 

Edward leaned over the rail and tossed his cigar into the ocean. “By night, the sea has a haunting way about her.”

 

“Perhaps it does for you.” Faith said. The only thing haunting her at night was Lady Stuart’s grey eyes. Eyes like the ocean’s waves topped with foam whiter than an Irving winter. What manner of woman could rise so high in the Merchant class? “Tell me about Lady Stuart.”

 

Edward stared in surprise. “She doesn’t like red dust.”

 

“No one likes a land without rain,” Faith said, moving closer to the big man despite his guarded nature. “Surely, you know more.”

 

 “I married the last woman who asked me that question, though she didn’t pose it like you.” Edward laughed. “I take it, that’s not for you, is it Sister?”

 

Shackler’s oily image floated like a cloud over the deep waters, and Faith shied away. Perhaps the elusive Malcolm would tell her what she wanted to know without pulling answers from her as well.

 

“You’ll get no fight from me. Good health, Faith.”

 

Independence and good health. Faith watched the waves crashing against the sleek brown ship, and she watched Billy as he watched the waves from the lower deck.  

 

“It’s in your mind. Your mind…your mind!” Billy chanted over again and slammed the rail with his fist. Then he calmed and sat on the deck like a well-trained pup.

 

“Puking all over my ship! Seasick baby,” said Edward. “Now he’s talking to himself. Lunatic.”

 

“No, he is a thief.”

 

“Eh? The boy’s sick.”

 

“You are wrong. It is no more than strong drink.” I do not feel sickness from Billy.

 

“Well, lass, I’m going below. I have a mule-kick headache, and it’s not from drink.”

 

“When will we be in Greenford waters?”

 

“See those blue mountains yonder? That’s Greenford.”

 

“It is beautiful.” Faith held up her palms, and Edward gave them a blank stare. Though the ocean air was cool, she saw that his brow was damp, and his hair lank. “Take guard over your health, Brother Edward.”

 

“It’s nothing but a headache, girl. And don’t go around saying Brothers and Sisters in Greenford, or my sister Meredith will bite you.”

 

 

 

***

 

Greenford Landing

 

Though the Stuart had docked hours ago, the crew stayed aboard to clean the ship and examine one another for signs of illness. Malcolm made it clear to Faith and Billy that it was protocol to do so since they traveled to so many foreign ports. Yet, he took pity on the tired pair. He took them off the ship, and purposefully led them down back roads until they reached Stuart Inn. 

  

“…and stay out of Faith’s room,” Malcolm warned Billy.

 

“It’s not what you think.” Billy cleared his throat and spat out the last taste of seasickness. Then he shut his door without saying goodnight to them.

 

“He is right, Malcolm.”

 

“I know, Sister, or should I say nursemaid? Cabin walls are thin.” Malcolm laughed, but not unkindly. “Ivy will make breakfast for you two in the morning. Then we’ll figure out what kind of work best suits you.”

 

“I will work with your Sisters.”

 

Malcolm regarded Faith, whose chin jutted defiantly from her hooded cloak. Her simple ways troubled him as much as Billy’s thievery. “We have no such group in Greenford, but there is one who can teach you medicines.”

 

“No Sisters?”

 

“I must go, Faith.” He reached out, and lowered her raised palms, then clasped her hand in the manner of Greenford.  “When asked, you worked the land in Irving-nothing more.”

 

***

 

Malcolm left Faith standing in the hallway of Stuart Inn, and made his way back to the ship. Bringing Faith and Billy troubled him: Though he liked bringing interesting company for Meredith, he had itch on his neck that told him these two would be a handful.

 

Howard was asleep on the gang plank when Malcolm reached the pier. That boy is hopeless. “Wake up!” Malcolm shook Howard roughly. “Is inspection done?”

 

“Aye, Cap.” Howard got to his feet in a shaky stupor. “The men are lined up and ready to leave.”

 

Malcolm looked up to the deck. “Where is Edward?”

 

“Uh…dunno.”

 

“You were sleeping the whole time I left, weren’t you boy?” Malcolm took Howard’s silence for a yes. “Let the men go. And Howard, do a better job next trip.”

 

***

 

Come morning, Faith roused Billy from his cozy nest on her floor. The inn’s dining room and kitchen were deserted, so was the main hall.

 

“I’m hungry. Let’s cook our own breakfast,” Billy whined.

 

“That would be stealing.” Faith dragged him outside. “There are berries along one of the roads we took yesterday.”

 

“You see in the dark now? Sure didn’t get a merchant’s welcome-didn’t see that coming, huh?”

 

“We are not merchants.”

 

“Not rats either.”

 

“Move along, thief.”

 

They passed gardens of with lavender and roses. Oleander bloomed wildly, and white trees, Faith didn’t recognize, grew in abundance, spreading limbs with purple blooms. She stopped to gather berries on a path leading to a clearing in the forest.

 

“What are those people doing?” asked Billy. He loved crowds, and this group, milling around a small cottage, looked ripe for thievery. “They don’t look too happy.”

 

Several soldiers stoked a fire in the clearing, while a hysterical woman slapped at a hooded figure seated atop a horse. Faith watched as Malcolm pulled the woman aside, soothing her with the power of his voice.

 

“Why is she making such a fuss over a few burning rags?” Billy wiped off a couple of red berries and popped them into his mouth.

 

“Those are not rags.” Faith regarded the rider, who stared down solemnly at the burning corpse.

 

The rider raised a hand to silence the crowd. “Allow them to take only the family albums and nothing more.”

 

“Ready upon your orders, my lady.”

 

The rider sat straight in her saddle, and scanned the crowd, momentarily locking eyes with Faith. “Burn the house,” she said, steering her horse out of the clearing.

 

The young woman broke free of Malcolm and tried to block the rider’s way. “No, no! How could you? Edward was your brother!”  

 

Malcolm pulled the struggling woman back, and the rider moved onto the path.

  

“That was cruel of you,” Faith said, as the rider moved past.

 

The rider dropped the horse’s reins, and removed her hood. A gaze- more blue than the grey of Lady Stuart’s portrait aboard ship-settled upon Faith.  “Who are you?” Meredith’s words, etched in pain, floated softly to the stranger.

 

Billy wiped berry juice from his mouth, and cautiously approached the woman, but Faith grabbed his arm. “Friends of Edward. What crime did he commit to cause this?” she asked.

 

Meredith regarded her coldly.

 

“Answer me!”

 

“Return to the inn.” Meredith raised her hood, and took up the reins, riding off before Faith could speak.

 

“Welcome to Greenford.” Billy grabbed the rest of the berries from Faith’s pockets. “Where are you going?”

 

“To comfort Edward’s widow.”

 

***

 

Faith’s heavy cloak did little to protect her from the black drifts of acrid smoke. Her pale blue eyes watered, giving her the appearance of one deep in mourning. She removed her cloak and placed it around the shoulders of the Widow Stuart.

 

The widow shifted her place on a painted boulder, making room for Faith. “Who cries for my Edward?”

 

Faith was taken aback for she’d never cried-or did not remember doing so. Outrage at the harsh treatment of Edward and his family drove her more than tears to the hapless widow’s side. “I am Faith.” At a lost for words of comfort, she fell silent.

 

“Faith is a friend who means well.”  Malcolm gently removed the cape and handed it back to Faith. “Ivy, you must see to your daughter now. Howard will take you to the Manor, and I will send someone to prepare morning meals.”

 

“No! I won’t live under the same roof with that woman.”

 

“She loved him too.” Malcolm sighed. “The inn is full, and it’s no place to grieve.”

 

“She may have my room,” said Faith.

 

“Or mine,” Billy added. “Family’s not always the place to be when you’re hurting.”

 

Though she agreed with him, Faith was appalled at his boldness. “Billy! Hold your tongue.”

 

“Why? Would you want to be with Aunt Ernesta at a time like this?”

 

Malcolm gripped Billy’s forearms. “This is not the place for your foolishness. I will decide what’s best.”

 

Faith took Malcolm aside. “What happen here?”

 

“Plague.”

 

The tone of Malcolm’s voice shot through Faith like a plow tearing earth. “Do you believe it to be from Irving?”

 

“Most likely the Southlands.”    

 

Relief. At least she and Billy wouldn’t be hanged from the forest trees. “Have you made your decision, Malcolm?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well?”

 

“Why speak of things you won’t like?” Malcolm turned away from Faith and ordered his soldiers to guard the cottage, lest the fire should spread.

 

 

***

 

 

 

Malcolm had hauled off Ivy, her daughter Wynona and Billy back to the inn, while Howard escorted Faith to Stuart Manor. Faith fumed at Malcolm’s determination to separate her from Billy: it seemed she was losing one friend after another since boarding the Stuart. Now she sat alone in the guest quarters of the woman she’d insulted.

 

“Ever have so many rooms to your lonesome?” asked Howard.

 

Faith regarded Howard for signs of mean-spirits, but saw only compassion in his simple face. She shook her head. Her new quarters were bigger than the entire house she’d lived in with greedy Ernesta. Ernesta. The woman was most likely screaming her lungs out from relinquishing Shackler's gold. Unless he played the gentleman and let her keep the bride payment.

 

“Look, Faith-they’d given you fancy dresses.” Howard pulled open the closet doors to provide a better view.”

 

“They are not mine.”

 

“The note here says they are: ‘For the sake of precaution, I’ve burn your clothes. The blue frock is for dinner. M. Stuart.’ Nice to have fine things for a change.’’ Howard blushed, and closed the doors. “I’m…sorry. I don’t usually go ‘round with two feet in my mouth.”

 

“You are not at fault.” Faith threw open a window and looked out on well-manicured grounds, stables and nearby lake. She wondered how Meredith would react if the militia burned down her estate. “At least the walls are free of the Lady’s portrait.”

 

“She’s not a bad lot.”

 

Faith chose to ignore his assessment.  “Has anyone else fallen ill?”

 

“I hear they took Wynona to the witch…to Astrid’s place. The girl felt a bit feverish.”

 

No. not the child too. Faith gazed at the tearful man. “Let us pray that she in good hands. Where does Astrid live? ”

 

“Shouldn’t ask that, Miss. Besides, I’m in enough trouble.”

 

“Your feelings are unproductive.”

 

“But it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t let Edward slip past I… He had a present for his wife. He… he only wanted to get home.”

 

“Did he touch you?”

 

“He never in his life raised a hand to me.”

 

He wouldn’t. Faith knew Edward’s spirit, and regretted missing the extent of his illness. “What I mean is, you should be checked for illness.”

 

“I just get a little sea sick sometimes, like your friend.”

 

“How does Billy fare?”

 

Howard laughed. “Smart mouth, that one. Malcolm locked him in the cellar because he wouldn’t behave. Locked good and proper.”

 

Not for long, thought Faith. She sat down next to Howard, careful not to touch him. A person’s mind could hide secrets, but their body usually gave them away freely. Howard’s told of spiraling loneliness and fear. “Inform the servants that I will dine in my quarters. You may join me if it pleases you.”

 

*** 

 

Night fell, and dark clouds poured a heavy rain onto Billy’s sleek body. After slipping through a broken window in the inn’s cellar, he’d posed as a messenger en route to Stuart Manor. Foreigner that he was, the townsfolk ran him round in circles-the last do-gooder directing him straight into the forest.

 

Lightening struck.

 

White trees mocked him; their purple limbs swaying in the wind. Billy leaned forward, his legs moving faster, but in his mad scramble to the Manor, his foot caught on a root.

 

“No!”

 

His gaze beheld a small figure standing near the pale trees. Can’t be... It’s just your mind. Lights glowed behind the figure, showing Stuart Manor in the distance. Whatever the thing was-man, beast, or specter-he’d have to go through it to reach the Manor.   

 

Billy took off for the Manor. As he passed the row of trees, the figure disappeared.

 

***

 

“I do not believe a word of it.” Faith rubbed the wet scoundrel down with a towel.

 

“Something was out there.”

 

“Indeed. At least water has met your skin-you should be clean for a while.”

 

“You knew I was coming?” Billy spied a blanket on the floor. “I couldn’t stay in that cellar. There was this huge rat-walked just like a man.” Billy blushed at his own words then remembered that Faith had no sense of humor.  His pride was saved. “It was me or him.”

 

“To think: I narrowly missed dining with a rat.” Faith gave him one of the three meals she’d ordered earlier.

 

“I can’t believe you ate two helpings.” Billy eyed the empty plate, and his stomach growled at the missed meal.

 

“Howard was here.”

 

“That’s fine by me-long as he doesn’t take my blanket.”

 

Faith blew out the candles.

 

“Hey! How am I supposed to eat in the dark?”

 

“Find a way.”

 

***

 

 

The Lady of Stuart Manor

 

Meredith Stuart poured a glass of wine for Malcolm. “Did you sanitize the ship?”

 

“Yes,” he said, discomfort etched on his face.

 

“And the crew?”

 

“They are well.”

 

“Astrid’s report on my… niece?”

 

“Wynona is stable.” Malcolm rose from the dining room table. “You are allowed to grieve, you know. It would also help to eat something.”

 

“Don’t!” Meredith held up her hand, regretting her harsh tone. “Work…work keeps my mind occupied.”

 

“Meredith, Meredith.” Malcolm rubbed his face. “Have you and Faith met?”

 

“We certainly did. In the clearing, I might add. Howard showed her upstairs, and she hasn’t been down since.” Meredith raked a hand through her hair. “A Sister? What were you thinking, Malcolm?”

 

“I had no idea they would come to the clearing.”  

 

“The clearing? I’m talking about Greenford.”

 

Malcolm sunk low in his chair, and braced for the scalding heat of the fabled Stuart glare. Much like her old man: a fiery kettle. Right down to her red roots. However, Malcolm saw the fight go out of his friend. Her normally unlined face looked worn with care.

 

“I think I’ll retire for the night.” He paused a moment, considering whether to take the wine. “The young lady will come down for breakfast tomorrow. Shall I have Howard fetch Billy from the…inn?” Malcolm almost slipped and said cellar. Meredith would never understand the hasty lockup.

 

“Don’t bother. He’s in her quarters.”

 

“What! How did he..?”

 

“Don’t know, but he tore across the forest like a jackrabbit.” Meredith laughed for the first time today. “Oh, before you retire, I’d like you to tell me exactly what kind of Sister you’ve brought into my home.”

 

***

 

Meredith woke early with a dry mouth and swollen red eyes. From sleep; she tried to make the lie true. Her heart ached from the loss of Edward, though the two hadn’t been close since her return to Greenford. “Even the hounds couldn’t lick that red grime from your skin. You’re a disgrace!” he’d told her when she came home, seeking comfort from her family.   

 

Years of bitterness welled inside, but Meredith pulled her fractured mind together-she couldn’t, wouldn’t, break down over this, not now. There were too many potential patients to check, and recheck in the coming days. This time, the formula was right, by the sweet breath of her dear Wynona, it had better be.

 

She stretched, cracked her bones in her solitary bed, its left side-as always- cold and empty: Where my heart should lie. But there was no time for pity and old regrets. Both mistress and servant of Greenford, Meredith got ready for a tiring fight with pestilence.

 

***

 

Moving down the long corridor with shoes in hand, Meredith stopped outside the door to Faith’s chambers.  Her curiosity mounted: Malcolm had never disobeyed her wishes by bringing an Irving Sister to Greenford.

 

Meredith entered and found the salon immaculate, as if no one lived there. In the bedroom lay Faith, alone.  One hand covered her eyes, blocking the morning light.

 

Meredith drew near and touched Faith’s silver bracelet.  Something wild pulsed in the girl-a power Meredith did not care to know. She pulled back, rubbing her tingling fingertips. You’re in for a hard ride if you believe medicine is potion mixed with prayer.  

 

“Mmmmm.”

 

“What on earth?” Meredith started from a sound emanating near the bed.

 

The jackrabbit snoozed on the floor. Looking at Billy now, restful and smiling, Meredith would never have guessed that he was the screaming banshee she’d spotted on her walk last night.

 

Billy turned on his back and burped, waving the covers with his hand. No wonder she threw him out of bed: he fires from both ends.

 

Meredith moved again toward the girl, who in sleep looked much younger than her years. Meredith guessed her to be no more than eighteen. 

 

What on earth attracts her to him?  Meredith left Faith’s quarters, more puzzled than ever, and made her way downstairs to the dining room.

 

***

 

Faith got up early, dressing in fine yellow silk, and none too happy about it. People should be allowed to dress according to what suited their character. The fanciful nature of semi-precious stones didn’t suit her. Not like the Lady Stuart she spied moving across the lawn in black shirt and trousers.    

 

Faith left Billy wrapped in his blankets, and trailed Meredith to a small house in the forest. Voices, raised in anger, drifted from a flower-laced window. The Widow Ivy and Meredith Stuart were quarreling with a third woman. A child cried. Then the third woman-Faith supposed to be Astrid- screamed for them to get out.

 

 

The front door banged open, and Ivy Stuart fled the house, glancing quickly at Faith. The distress and longing in the widow’s eyes, pushed Faith closer to the shelter of an overgrown hedge. She waited until Ivy hurried away. Then she moved slowly toward a clump of white trees.

 

White bark and purple leaves shimmered in the sunlight. Faith pulled on a low branch, crushing a leaf in her hands. Small hard berries, red as the stones on her dress, stained her pale skin, and their spicy scent stung her nose.

 

“It called Devil’s Blood, for obvious reasons.”

 

Meredith alit from her horse, and withdrew a black handkerchief from a loop on her waist. Faith moved away as Meredith offered to clean the mess from her hands.

 

“I can do it myself.”

 

“Yes. I’ve forgotten how fastidious Sisters are.” Meredith opened a canister, and gave it to Faith. “Itches, doesn’t it? Pour it over your hands several times. Then rub a bit grass between them.”

 

“It works,” Faith said, amazed at the results. “Miraculous.”

 

“You won’t find that in your prayer books.”

 

“I am not a witless peasant.” Perhaps I can find a prayer to cure a heartless shrew. “Will you teach me what you know?” Faith asked, but the other woman hesitated.

 

“Why leave a perfectly good school? Was it because of your young man?”

 

“I have my reasons. Billy Hager is not one of them.”

 

“Oh? Where is he now?”

 

“Where you last saw him, Lady Stuart-on the floor in my bedroom.”

 

This drew a blush from the great lady. “I believe Algernon needs water. Good day, Sister.”

 

Before Meredith could mount her horse, Faith took the black steed’s reins and led him toward the lake, forcing Meredith to walk beside her.

 

“I thought you weren’t a peasant.”

 

“That is not what I said.” Faith stroked Algernon’s mane while he drank noisily at the lake’s edge. “Besides, what shame is there in leading a beautiful animal?”

 

“Maybe we should ask your blond stallion.”

 

“What?”

 

Billy loped toward them with what appeared to be a handful of yellow grapes. Not bothering to swallow, he offered both women a sloppy good morning.

“Nice horse,” he patted Algernon’s rump as if the haughty steed were a border collie.

 

Faith almost smiled. She realized with a start why she didn’t mind Billy’s company: He treated everyone-lady, simpleton or Sister-with the same careless regard. Even Lady Stuart seemed more amused than put off by the man.

 

“Sleep well?” Meredith asked, declining Billy’s offer of grapes. “I hope so, because those are Listle berries-you’ll be up all night.”

 

Billy spit out the rest of the berries, and gave Meredith an accusatory glance.

 

“Lady Stuart,” Faith began, backing away from the woman’s upraised hand. “Lady-”

 

“Meredith. I don’t intend to call you Sister during your stay.”

 

The temporary quality of Meredith’s words unnerved Faith. Stay. It wasn’t the “stay” of welcome to the neighborhood, but “rest before you go”. Yet, she would not let her desire to learn go unquenched. “Meredith, about my studies-”

 

“Astrid will help you with that.” The smiled faded from Meredith’s lips. She grabbed Algernon’s reins and stalked off.

 

“She’s not too friendly, huh?” Billy rubbed his stomach. Someone in Greenford was going to make a decent meal for him, or he’d take up the ladle himself.

 

Faith ignored his comment. Something deep had hurt Meredith-an old hurt grinding against the pain of Edward’s death. “Why did Malcolm throw you in the cellar?”

 

“He took Wynona from her mother. I don’t care if the kid is sick, they belong together.”

 

“I thought you said family-”

 

“I was talking about people like her ladyship.” He mock bowed, upsetting the berries in his churning belly. “I’m gonna be sick-I never get sick. She cursed me!”

 

“Your greed did that Billy.” A quality nothing good ever came from, she thought. Like Shackler’s greedy eyes traveling over her body. It did no good for anyone.

 

***

 

Faith watched as Billy crouched by the lake, drinking from the same spot Algernon had earlier. The man had no fear of germs worming threw his body, drenching it with untold illness. Luckily, Algernon was in good health, a testament to Meredith’s care. Her love for the animal soaked right through to his black mane, but did it extend to humans as well?

 

“Want to go swimming, Faith?”

 

“Yes, but you will have to teach me.”

 

She waited for Billy’s laugh, but even he seem to remember Aunt Ernesta’s cries of, “whoring devil” whenever Faith begged for a dip in Irving Lake. 

 

“You can’t swim in that thing.”

 

Faith pulled off her boots, and unbuttoned her dress.

 

“Hold with that, lass.” Malcolm approached them with shovel in hand. “I have other work for Billy.”

 

“Manual labor?” Billy got his back up and marched toward Malcolm. “I’m a shopkeeper.”

 

“Among other things.” Malcolm handed him the shovel. “Make your way to the Old Quarter. It’s behind the town square. Being the great messenger you are; I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding it.”

 

“And do what when I get there?”

 

“Oh, people are waiting to tell you what do, young mister.”

 

Faith remained seated on the grass, eager for her assignment. Malcolm dropped down beside her, and waited until Billy left before speaking:

 

“Do you now regret leaving Irving?”  

 

“I have my freedom.”

 

“By trading one curse for another?” Malcolm took one of Faith’s boots and slipped it onto her foot. “I know about Shackler.”

 

“Did you-”

 

“Tell anyone? No. Shackler would’ve run through you like his last two wives.”

 

Two? “What happened to them?”

 

“No one knows for sure about the first, but the second...Well, let’s just say she was too smart for him to handle.”

 

Faith wished she’d put more than laudanum in the snake’s stewed prunes. Then she said a silent prayer, asking the Sisters to forgive her wicked thought. No one’s life was worth her liberation. “Will Meredith allow me to stay?”

 

“For my sake, I believe so. You’re my responsibility since I was the one who watered the seed for freedom.”

 

“And Billy.” She could not forget the rascal though he enjoyed taunting her.

 

“You spoiled my day: It troubles me to have something in common with Billy Hager.” A wicked laugh escaped Malcolm’s lips, bringing life to his usually dour face. “You and Meredith are too much alike.”

 

“You are wrong.”

 

“No need to leave. If I wanted to insult you-or her-I would say you’re both like bullheaded sisters.”

 

“Why do you stay with her?”

 

Malcolm stretched out under the Devil’s Blood tree, and Faith leaned back with him, taking pleasure in the lake-cooled breezes. She turned to him. He had the expression of one groping from the right memory to divulge-something benign.

 

“Meredith’s father-peace be with him-brought me here from the Indies to command one of his ships. She took it into her mind to be captain, and stowed away whenever one of his ships set out to sea….”

 

Malcolm frowned at Faith. She well knew the superstitions sailors carried in their hearts toward women. She nodded for him to continue.

 

“Well, I was the only captain to indulge the child. The crew thought the little hothead was crazy when she ordered them to bathe everyday. But she was one of the best, until other passions took hold.”

 

“What passions?” Faith imagined a groundhog fighting its way out of frozen ground. 

 

Malcolm rose, brushing grass from his robe. “I’ve said enough. It’s time for noonday meal-care to join me?”

 

“You did not answer my question.”

 

“Which question might that be?” His soulful laugh was back. “Come, let’s bury old bones and get some noonday meal.”

 

Faith got up, and accepted the proud man’s arm without hesitation. He knew her touch and wasn’t afraid of it. This alone buried questions of Meredith’s passions. For now.

 

***

 

Twilight settled over Greenford, and the sky turned a flat gray slate. Faith settled in too, keeping warm by the fire in her lonely bedroom. Though both noonday meal and dinner with Malcolm had pleased her, she’d missed Billy, and yes, even Meredith’s presence. In Irving, she’d had the Sisters and grouchy Ernesta, but here…

 

“Do evil and it will come back threefold. Forgive me Sisters.”

 

Faith said her evening prayers. Then she took to her bed. Midway through the gray mist of dreamless sleep, a stranger’s touch awakened Faith, leaving her breathless and frightened. Once more, someone pressed her shoulder, hard, urgent.

 

“Wake up, girl.”

 

“Who…who are you?” Faith’s sleepy eyes took in a white-haired woman with violets strung around her neck.

 

“Astrid.” The woman held a small vial to Faith’s lips. “Drink.”

 

“No.”

 

“If I fancied your death, I wouldn’t wake you up for it.”

 

Faith drank, and the taste was enough to make her innards boil. “Name the properties of this medicine.”

 

“You’re of the Sisters, all right.” Astrid pulled back the covers. “Get dressed. We have work.”

 

Faith got up, and pulled on a suit of shiny flexible material-a one piece affair fitting snuggly over her body. Plastiks.    “Where are we going?”

 

Astrid cupped Faith’s chin. “You have a strong mind.” Then she smoothed back the girl’s tussled hair, appraising her looks. “Days grow darker. They make beauty a curse to women.”

 

Faith’s heart hung low in her chest as if hammered in place by a steel anvil: Astrid had the touch, one more subtle than her own.

 

“These clothes,” Faith ran her hands over the soft material, “are from vile Southland’s rubber. They cause impurities in the air.”

 

“We die a little to live.”

 

“That is illogical.”

 

“Spirits protect me: I’ve got another one on my hands.” Astrid laughed softly. “Come. It’s time to earn our keep.”

 

 

 

***

 

The Greenford barracks consisted of four connecting buildings sharing a courtyard. Through driving rain, Astrid led Faith into the longer of two green tents set in the middle of the courtyard. At least twenty sailors lay within, their faces lined with pain.

 

Masked figures moved with cool efficiency between the beds, caring for the hapless patients. At the end of the long tent, a woman wielding a scalpel, stopped her ministrations long enough to give Faith a questioning glance. A lock of red hair peeking from her mask told Faith it was Meredith glaring at her.

 

“Put these on.” Astrid handed her a mask and a pair of gloves. “Stay close, and watch what I do. Soon, you’ll be on your own.”

 

Heavy rain falling against the tent, made it hard to hear what Astrid had said, but Faith caught the last few words: …on your own.  

 

Without the benefit of touch, the men’s suffering managed to seep into Faith’s skin, leaving her pressed against a table loaded with unfamiliar instruments. “I do not know if I can do this.”

 

“Will it.” Astrid gripped Faith by her shoulders. “Sympathy will do them no good.”

 

The women worked for hours, dosing patients, lancing their corrupted skin, injecting them with God knows what. Faith finally strayed outside, recovering her wits under the soothing cold rain.  Just as she caught her breath, men cried out from the second tent, striking her heart with their joyless song.

 

Faith pulled back the rain-soaked flap and entered. Four men were in the small tent without the care of nurses. Three of the men lay comatose beneath damp sheets.

 

“You shouldn’t be in here.” A young sailor strained to rise from his cot.

 

“Why have you been separated from the others?” 

 

“No hope for us.”

 

Faith grabbed a cloth and wiped the sailor’s sweaty face. She held onto his hand, but he tried to pull away.

 

“See? They come to check every hour.”

 

Faith turned at sound of a wooden cart carelessly rolled in by two men.

 

“Faith? You’re not supposed to be in here.” Billy came to her side, dripping rain and mud. “‘Hey, Howard, get the guy on the end.”

 

“By myself?” Howard cringed near the opening.

 

“Billy, what have we done?” Faith asked, thinking how clean the land was before they arrived.

 

“Nothing! This is Southlands plague.” Billy knelt beside her. “Am I sick? Are you? No. So don’t go blaming us.”

 

“But-”

 

“He’s dead, Billy.” Howard interrupted, prodding the still man with his elbow.

 

“I know that, Howard. Drag him over to the cart, chicken.” Billy snorted with contempt. “Been putting up with this crap all day.”

 

Faith stared in disgust at Billy. If Astrid was right about sympathy doing the patients no good, then Billy was full of healing power. The dead were no more to this man than lifeless cargo. Dig. Load. Unload. Bury.

 

“Gotta go. You should too, Faith.”

 

“No.”

 

“Listen to him,” said the sailor.

 

“Come on, Howard. No reasoning with her when she gets like this.”

 

***

 

 

After Billy and Howard left, Faith held the ailing sailor’s hand well into the night until he passed over with the remaining sailors. Then she fell to her knees, reciting the Sisters’ prayer for the dead. 

 

“That’s very thoughtful.” Meredith entered, removing her mask and gloves. “But the next time you come into my clinic, come as a physician.”

 

Faith ceased her prayers, and ignoring Meredith’s offered hand, rose to her feet. “Have you no compassion?”

 

Meredith dropped into a nearby chair, and rubbed the tension from her aching neck. She lowered her head, and fixed her eyes on the wooden planks thrown down for flooring. In the morning, she would order it burned along with the grisly tent.  Along with everything else she’d burned.

 

“The young man’s name was Isaac…Isaac of the Porter family.” Meredith rose, delicately stretching her tender back. In response to Faith’s startled look, she said, “To record in your Rites Book.”

 

“I…I had no need of one in Irving.” Faith turned away from Meredith, and stared at the sailor’s empty bed. “I have yet to take my vows.”

 

“I’ll see that you get a book.”

 

Meredith left the small tent, convinced more than ever that she’d lost a promising physician.

 

***

 

“Let her play in Astrid’s garden,” Meredith said, pouring Malcolm a cup of tea.

 

“Is this your final decision regarding Faith?”

 

“Borders are closed, passenger ships restricted-what else do you expect from me?”

 

“I brought her here for you.”

 

Meredith turned away from him, red splotches peppering her face. “She slipped Shackler’s iron noose. What makes you think she wants to be here-even comprehend what you’re-”

 

Malcolm motioned for silence-the only person ever to do so in her presence and still live comfortably in Greenford.

 

Meredith paced the confines of her private salon like a caged tiger, ignoring Malcolm’s sour demeanor. The man used his silences as some would a dagger; cutting, tearing, stripping away at her carefully maintained fortress.

 

“How is Wynona?” Meredith asked, thinking she should have known first-hand since the child was her only remaining kin.

 

“Weak, but she is well enough to be in her…mother’s care.”

 

Mother’s care.” Meredith leaned against a window, pressing her brow on the cold glass. “The inn is no place for the child. Bring her to me, with or without Ivy.”

 

“If you insist.” Malcolm grew quiet, seeking solace in his cup of Listle tea.

 

Meredith’s attention strayed outside, beyond the well-manicured grounds of Stuart Manor- a patch of muddy earth where rain-splattered men continued the fevered work of burying the dead. There would be no burning today, no safe and final cleansing of Greenford under heavy rain.

 

***

 

In the gray afternoon, Meredith read the Death Prayer in the town square. It seemed no one, not even close relatives of the departed, cared to stray near the plague pits. So, twelve Greenford flags were raised high over a hastily constructed podium. One flag represented the Family Stuart’s loss, though Ivy and her daughter were absent from the solemn ceremony.

 

In the center of the square, Faith bowed her head, and sank to her knees, raising her palms to the dark skies. This caused a stir among those standing nearby, for Greenford were a practical people. The strange customs of foreigners could only go so far with them and this display-at least to Meredith’s thinking-was crossing the line. With a signal of two slightly raised fingers, six of Meredith’s soldiers closed in on Faith’s position.

 

“We’ll have some words now from the families: Widow Porter,” Meredith called. She relinquished her position to the widow, accepting Malcolm’s arm as she left the podium.

 

“I lost my beloved Gerard during Ankesh year,” began the Widow Porter, referring to a horrid influenza that swept down out of neighboring Ankesh, killing nearly a quarter of Greenford’s town folk.

 

The murmur from the crowd surrounding Faith grew louder, and Billy, seeing the nasty turn, threw down his shovel and pushed his way toward his friend.

 

“Now, my Isaac…” Widow Porter paused, her face red with rage, “Who brought the Darkness here…who?

 

“It’s them…damn outsiders!” A furious man lobbed a handful of rotten fruit at Faith, staining her white robe purple.

 

One of Meredith’s soldiers subdued the man, brining him down to the cobbled ground before Billy could jump in.

 

“Quiet!” Meredith ordered the man released. “Did you,” she asked him, “did any of you sit with Isaac Porter? Hold his hand, bathe him before he died?” Her eyes found the Widow Porter, who shrank back from the dais. “Ask yourselves, who came to bury Isaac Porter?”

 

Meredith helped Faith rise to her feet. The young Sister looked surprisingly calm under the crowd’s burning eyes. “Thank you,” she refrained from holding her palm out, and took Meredith’s hand in the Greenford greeting as Malcolm had taught her.

 

Meredith was speechless, the strain from the past few days threatening to overtake her calm reserve.

 

“Let’s not forget why we’re here,” Malcolm addressed the crowd, before leading Meredith away.   

 

Gasps rose from the crowd, and Meredith turned, ready for the new source of opposition. Billy Hager, who Meredith considered little more than a wart on a bunion, ascended the podium with muddy clothes.

 

“I sailed with your kinfolk,” he said, staring out at shamed faces.

 

“Get him down from there,” Meredith hissed to Malcolm.

 

“Let him continue. A few berries won’t spoil the mud on his clothes,” Malcolm replied.

 

Yet, all was calm: Billy could work a crowd better than working a shovel. They nodded, as he praised their fallen sailors and whispered thanks when he spoke of Greenford kindness, even laughed when he shared a few off-colored stories.

 

Faith headed toward the podium, and to Meredith’s consternation, was greeted by many upraised palms.

 

“I’ll take my leave now,” Meredith informed Malcolm.

 

She strode through the parting crowd with Faith’s eulogy of Edward ringing in her ears.

 

***

 

Malcolm, as ordered, had consigned Faith to work in Astrid’s “garden”, which consisted of the whole of Stuart Forest.  She couldn’t help but feel that this little exile was Meredith’s way of keeping her out of the clinic, and most importantly, out of the town folks’ innocent heads. So Faith tromped uneven trails on a daily basis, cataloguing flora until her fingers bled and itched.  

 

Astrid was an exacting taskmaster, but Faith came to prefer her company to that of the inhospitable Lady Stuart. She decided to stay on with the healer.  In Astrid’s warm cottage, they took their meals together, discussed the healer’s many travels and read from the Sister’s prayer book. Even Billy was welcomed as long as he took his leave before nightfall.

 

“How long will she have me wandering in the woods?” Faith asked Billy, who was busy hanging over the garden fence pilfering tomatoes.

 

“Why are you complaining? Malcolm’s got me up to my knees in grave dirt to keep me off his precious boats, and they got you picking berries to keep you out of-”

 

“To learn,” Astrid said, standing just outside her cottage door. She smirked at the young Sister, whose eyes and ears were trained on a rocky hillside.  “Never knew Meredith to care for that trail before.”

 

“What?” Faith turned, startled to find Astrid by her side.

 

“I said your herb book is coming along nicely-analysis far better than my own.”

 

“You have a book?” This irritated Faith. The healer had her tangled in vines, and tripping over roots everyday to gather knowledge she already possessed. “Why?” Faith held out her scratched hands, but her attention drifted back to the lone rider on the hillside.

 

“Who’s that coming?” Billy slunk off the fence with the grace of a bull moose. Astrid’s threats didn’t scare him, even when she caught him stealing from her garden, nor did Malcolm’s ease with a strap, but one raised eyebrow from Meredith set him quaking in his dusty boots. “Darn. What does she want?”

 

“What indeed.” Astrid waved at Meredith, who had descended the hillside and headed in their direction. “Now there was a hard headed student if ever there was. She was more interested in playing in dead bodies, than creeping through the forest.”

 

Autopsies?” Faith looked askance at this bit of information. “But…it is forbidden.”

 

“Tell that to sailors she saved.” Astrid said, promptly taking her leave of the young pair.

 

Faith blushed, chastened by Astrid’s words and the sight of Greenford’s savior astride the imperious Algernon. She stood her ground, but Billy went out to greet them, and Algernon snorted warm breath on his hands.

 

“I wouldn’t rub his nose if I were you,” Meredith alit from the ebony beast, “unless you have an apple. Get on,” she said, completely ignoring Faith’s presence.

 

“Why?” Billy took a step back.

 

“Are you questioning me?”

 

Algernon snorted again, interrupting their little standoff. He butted his head against Billy’s chest. Ride me if you dare, his eyes seem to tell him. And Billy, not one to pass up a challenge, made his way onto the haughty steed’s saddle and held on for dear life.

 

“What about you?” He stared down Meredith, who grinned and handed him the reins. Then she whispered in Algernon’s ear.

 

Faith’s stomach clenched, and before she could warn Billy, Algernon reared up, then tore off across the pasture, heading at top speed for the dark forest.

 

“Where is Algernon taking him?” Faith asked, cheeks warming from the absurdity of the question.

 

“To work. And this brings me to the question of what you’re doing with your days.”

 

Faith held out her chafed hands. “Does this answer your question?”

 

“It does, if you’re washing dishes in the lake.” Meredith opened the cottage gate, moving slowly onto Astrid’s cobbled path. “I want you to stay away from the burial ground. Understand? I have enough trouble containing the site without you holding vigil for the dead.”

 

“People need closure.”

 

“Then let them do it in the town square.” Meredith walked past her and opened Astrid’s door. “And Faith, don’t ever again tell me what my people need,” she said before entering.

 

Faith reached into the pocket of her grass-stained smock and withdrew her prayer book. Soulless witch. In her present state of agitation, she headed for the burial grounds. She felt it in her bones, as deeply as the cut of Meredith’s tongue, that death meant more than a gravedigger’s sweat and a handful of dirt.   

 

   

 

***

 

During the third week of Faith’s self-imposed exile, a curious thing happened: small groups of town folks made their way from Greenford proper down to the mysterious cottage that lay on the edge of the forest.

 

Laborers, shopkeepers and merchants alike sat on smooth stones by Astrid’s small lake with supper wrapped in rough bags or ornate containers, depending on their station in life. Curious indeed, for these groups never bothered to socialize with each other in good times, let alone during times of martial law.

 

What brought these hardy souls together were a fevered present, and a cloudy future: Ships had stopped running, mountain passes were guarded, and the town gates were closed. Most of the town folk had opted for a personal lockdown, remaining shuttered within their homes. The bold few, sought comfort in Billy’s wild tales and Faith’s prayer for the spirit.

 

Today, the bold ones waited for an hour near the witch’s cottage for a glimpse of the young Sister. “Here she comes,” one of the laborers stood, waving his hat to draw Faith over.

 

“Mind your manners,” said an indignant merchant. “She’s under the Lady’s protection. Do you want Malcolm on your back for calling on her like she’s a common barmaid?”

 

“What wrong with that?” asked a young girl. “I’ll spit in your beer next time you take a mind to call on me.”

 

“I hear tell the Lady’s cast her out.”  Ivy Stuart passed amid grumbles and stares, knowing full well half this lot agreed with her. “And what of us-how many of us will the Great Lady lock away while our loved ones die?” 

 

Faith approached the unruly crowd, and taking her seat on the center stone, waited for them to quiet down. Then she led them in Morning Prayer, read carefully from the book of the dead, and steadfastly stayed away from Ivy’s questions about Meredith. 

 

Angered, Ivy sought to make an enemy out of the very one who refused to be an ally, “Meredith has taken my child into her home, and leaves me alone with grief! What good does praying do…sitting in a forest like meek lambs?”

 

Faith caught that angry woman’s eye, and motioned for her to share the center stone. She paused again, waiting for the grumbling to die. How could she comfort this woman? It was easy enough to calm the spirit of many, give them words of prayer, but to touch a single heart was beyond her capabilities.

 

The crowd was hers. So she rose, confident in turning their misplaced wrath from Meredith Stuart.

 

“Prayer has its place…in our hearts, in our treatment of each other. And by the Book, the spirits of our ancestors, we should come not as lambs, but lions willing to strike that which would destroy us.” This passage from the Sisters’ Prayer-a part of the book which Faith usually ignored-seemed to hit its mark with the crowd, cheering them to their feet.

 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” said Ivy, but her body folded in on itself, collapsing in frustration on the center stone when Faith shook her head.

 

“Who will gather the needed plants for Meredith’s serum?” Faith stared at the blank faces then corrected her wording, “her potions?”

 

Three stepped forward, eagerly awaiting her instructions.

 

“And who will help the diggers-feed them, and care for their land?” And so on went the list of duties until none but her and Ivy were left standing in the quiet pasture.

 

“And what should I do?” asked Ivy, now meek as the lambs she’d detested.

 

Faith thought of a chore that would make her own blood boil if called upon to do, “Make peace with you husband’s sister.”

 

“There’ll be a rolling thunderstorm in hell before-”    

 

“Ivy!” Astrid bore down on them with a heat worthy of the noonday sun. “Get on with ya. Cooking needs doing at the inn.” Astrid placed her hands on her hips-a gesture Faith had seen Meredith doing a lot these days. “Honestly,” she said to Faith while burning a hole in Ivy’s retreating back, “you’d think old gripes would melt away in fever times.”

 

“Fever times? This is plague, Sister Astrid.”

 

“Never use that word around folks, and don’t go calling me Sister. Meredith’s already tied in a knot over your doings.”

 

Faith let out a weary sigh. Astrid knew more about the Book than she did! The woman even wore a silver bracelet tucked under her sleeve. “Why did you not start a group here?”

 

“Some things are better left alone.”

 

“Was it because of Meredith?” Of course it was Meredith, a woman she knew in own her heart if not by touch, to hold anything of the spirit with grave contempt.

 

“You mean the ogress you stood up for today? Chased down that demon Ivy like a sword from the Heavens, didn’t you?”

 

“I have given Meredith no cause for offense,” Faith said stubbornly. “It is she who offends me.”

 

“What shall I do with my two girls?” Astrid laughed and prodded her gently, leading them both away to noontime supper.

 

***

 

“Good to see you down for supper, Meredith.” Billy wiped his mouth, but couldn’t summon enough manners to pull out Meredith’s chair. He left the chore for Malcolm.

 

“Enjoy your ride?” Meredith smirked, and waved away the servant hulking over her shoulder. “Coffee is fine, thank you.”

 

“She’ll have a serving of lamb and potatoes like the rest of us.” Malcolm wagged a finger and the flustered servant hurried off to the kitchen.

 

Meredith took in her supper companions with a jaundiced eye. Over the course of two weeks, it seemed the men had developed a rapport with one another to the point where it drove her and Wynona to distraction. Cajoling, threatening and, finally begging them both to eat a decent meal.

 

“Hey lammy bear,” Billy said, as Wynona entered, “Cat got your tongue?”

 

“She will speak when she has something to say.” Meredith patted the chair next to her for Wynona to be seated.

 

Wynona nodded at the men, and curtsied to her aunt, then pointedly took the chair next to Billy. True to her nature, she didn’t say a word, but slapped Billy’s hand in mock outrage.

 

Billy laughed. “Just for that you get gruel for supper.”

 

Meredith watched as Billy engaged Wynona with ridiculous animal sounds, and something deep within wormed its way to her mouth, ruining the taste of her coffee. No matter how hard she tried, the girl had never warmed to her. Perhaps it was due to Ivy’s animosity. And Ivy is the only mother the girl has known. No winning there.

 

Meredith regarded the child, who now practically sat in Billy’s lap, listening to his prattle in earnest delight. As the servant arrived, she slipped from her dark thoughts and directed him to set her plate before Wynona. “I’ll have the broth, William.”

 

“Hey, that’s my name too, but you,” he gently tapped the tip of Wynona’s nose with his spoon, “can call me Billy.”

 

“Or make the sign of the goat,” said Malcolm.

 

The gesture brought a toothy Stuart smile to the girl’s lips, and somewhere in the back of Meredith’s brain a wire snapped, hurling her into a thunderous headache. She changed the topic, sternly addressing Billy, “What have you done with my horse?”

 

“Algie?”

 

“Al-ger-non.”

 

“I left him on the green,” this said with a mouth full of peas, Billy continued. “Get some exercise, ya know.”

 

“And eat every apple he can sink his teeth into.” She gave the doorway a two fingered point, halting his next spoonful of peas.

 

“Now?” Billy backed away from the table, or maybe it was the rise of her eyebrow that moved his stiff limbs. “Not now.”

 

Malcolm laughed, and they turned to Wynona, who performed a perfect imitation of her aunt, raised eyebrow and all. 

 

“Thank you, darling,” Meredith said.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Billy grabbed two sweet rolls before leaving.

 

“I was addressing my niece.” Meredith said to the now empty hallway.

 

For a moment, she could have sworn that a hint of a smile played on the girl’s face just for her. The ten year old stared with a blank expression at her aunt, and rose from the table. Then she dragged her chair closer to Meredith’s.    

 

“Ah. The Stuart protectiveness.” Malcolm raised his cup.

 

Meredith felt her chest grow warm with the unexpected move. “Now if I can only get her to work on our other wayward guest.”

 

 

***

 

Billy found Faith kneeling by the lake, and sat beside her after tethering Algernon to a tree. “Want some bread?”

 

“Did you steal it as well as the horse?”

 

“Technically no.” He gave her one of the sweet rolls swiped from Meredith’s table. “What’re you doing here…praying for rain?”

 

Faith turned to his smiling face and felt ashamed for all the times she’d called him market rat. He honestly had no concept of manners, and they were very much alike in that way.

 

“Well, gonna tell me or not?” he asked.

 

“Today, I advised someone to address a wrong. A wrong I too have committed.”

 

“Say you’re sorry and get it over with,” Billy responded, though more interested in the touch of cinnamon on his roll.

 

Faith suddenly knew why she liked this creature; he stole, he weaseled his way out of trouble and swore like a prizefighter, but he never lied. She didn’t either, but this rare virtue took hold of her like a weed spreading in the garden. She’d accused Meredith of having no compassion, but what compassion had she shown the woman? What offer of solace? None.

 

“I said, get it over with.” Billy was impatient now. “Let me teach you how to ride. Come on, Algernon’s going to waste out here since Meredith hardly rides him.”

 

“Oh?” Faith went over to Algernon and ran her fingers through his beautiful mane. The horse was dispirited, but feisty enough to back away from her touch.

 

“See, he’s mad,” Billy continued. “Malcolm told me that Meredith gets up in the morning and walks to the clinic, comes back for coffee and a roll. Then she’s off again to somewhere-comes back home around midnight.”

 

The thought of Malcolm conferring with Billy instead of her, stabbed at Faith’s pride. Am I that unfeeling toward Meredith?  The attack of conscience unsettled her. “What is she doing so late at night?”

 

“Didn’t ask. I’m just happy to have this big boy to ride.”

 

“But he hates you.”

 

Billy smiled, his teeth sparkling like pearls. “Want to ride or not?”

 

“Yes, but only to the mansion. I have to deliver this bag of herbs.”

 

“Trust me: she doesn’t need it right away.”

 

 

Faith stroked Algernon’s hair, soaking up a bit of his sadness. He’s lonely for her. “We are going to return Algernon to the stable, feed him, and brush him.”

 

“When you say ‘we’, you mean me.

 

“Exactly,” Faith said, sensing Algernon’s spirits rise as sure as Billy’s fell. “Hurry up, Billy.”  

 

“You’re like the little sister I never wanted.” Billy helped Faith into the saddle then hopped up behind her. “Now there’s a special way to handle a spoiled monster.” He patted Algernon’s rump. “Dig your heels in when he gets snotty, and never let your guard down.”

 

“I am well experienced in that area.” 

 

Algernon snorted, drawing a rare laugh from Faith. She flicked the horse’s reins, and they headed toward the mansion.

 

 

 

***

 

Approximately two yards from the Stuart Mansion, sat a small house with dark windows. It was squat and ugly with gray stones-the only edifice in Greenford under lock and key besides the town jail. Meredith and Malcolm emerged from the front door. 

 

Malcolm looped a heavy chain around the door handle then secured it to a padlock wedged in stone. “Is there any way I can talk you out of this?”

 

Meredith put an arm around him. “Yes, but the scientist in me says no.”

 

“I thought as much. May I be with you?”

 

“An experiment such as this is too dangerous, old friend. Besides, I need you and Astrid at the clinic.”

 

“Then have Faith assist you.”

 

Meredith cupped Malcolm’s chin. Sadness and an unexpected fear lay like ghosts in his kind brown eyes.  She’d give anything to ease his worry, but enlisting Faith was out of the question. The young woman was untrained and hell bent on prayer. And prayer would do her no good.

 

She gazed up at the Heavens, cursing the clear night. The rain had ceased days ago, giving way to blue skies and raging heat in Greenford. The skies didn’t bother her, but the heat did. Heat gave sordid license to disease-ridden vermin.

 

“My men and I eradicated most of the vermin, thanks to your help,” he said.

 

“It’s a good thing there’s some left.” Meredith looked at the door to her lab, and sighed. The virus had mutated and became airborne. She sighed again. “How is Faith coming along with Astrid?”

 

“She is an apt student.”

 

“Good. Now if we can keep her out off that darn prayer stone- I know I shouldn’t do this,” she said, heading off his retort. “But she needs focus, discipline.”

 

“She is disciplined. Her path is not so different from yours, or should I say what it used to be.”

 

“You believe I’m too hard on her.”

 

“Is that a question?”

 

Meredith laughed. “If it were, you wouldn’t answer it.”  A hunger pang hit her belly, and she grabbed hold of Malcolm’s arm, “Why don’t you and I take the path home and drink some of that wonderful coffee of yours?”

 

“I will gladly join you, if you promise to eat a decent meal.”

 

“I’ll face my sentence like a good inmate.”

 

***

 

Faith saw Howard lurking about in the library of the Stuart mansion. “Have you seen Meredith?”

 

“How long have you been here?” he asked, immediately replacing the book he’d borrowed.

 

“She has so many books,” Faith said, noting that most would not be allowed past the borders of Irving Village.

 

“You should leave before-”

 

“Meredith comes?” Meredith entered, moving enough to allow Howard to scurry out of the room. “You wanted to see me, or is it scandalous reading material you seek?”

 

“You.”  Alarmed by Meredith’s wan complexion, Faith laid her bundle of herbs aside and pulled out a chair for the exhausted woman. “There are things I must confess.”

 

“You chose the wrong woman. I don’t take confessions.” Meredith leaned on her elbows, propping her chin in her hands. “And I already know about the prayer sessions, eulogies and so forth. You may continue to do so, but don’t bring anyone with you to the gravesite. Fight me on this, and I’ll have you and your followers locked up.”

 

“Billy is still on duty at the cemetery. I will instruct him to prepare the…bodies and say the eulogies.”

 

“Billy? And what will you do?”

 

“There are others who can do my work.”

 

“Ah. So, you’ve enlisted a few spiritual lieutenants.”  Meredith got out of her chair and removed a small case from one of the bookshelves. “What do you want, Faith?”

 

“Everyday, you leave the clinic early. Whatever you are doing, I want to assist you.” Faith pulled her chair closer and peered at the medical supplies in the now opened case. She watched Meredith fill a hypodermic with blue liquid.

 

Meredith grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, and sunk the needle past its red skin. “Now you try it.” She rolled up her sleeve. “Take the astringent and apply some to a swab. Then clean the inside of my elbow.”

 

“What is in this?” Faith said, following instructions. Meredith’s skin was damp and cool, but she sensed nothing from the touch. It was as if Meredith had wrapped a wall of steel around her body.

 

“Prepare the needle.” Meredith paused, watching Faith’s hands for the slightest tremor. “Good. Find a vein.” She held Faith’s wrist. “Easy. Go slowly.”

 

Faith held the needle steady, and pumped the blue liquid into Meredith’s arm. For a moment, she felt a spark of pain. Meredith’s pain. It stopped abruptly then the steel wall rose, shutting her out again.

 

“What did I give you?”

 

“A light sedative.”

 

Meredith’s head drooped, and Faith thought for a moment that she would slip from her chair. She held onto Meredith’s arm until the other woman pulled away. There is nothing “light’ about this sedative.

 

“You…can go to the…clinic tomorrow,” Meredith said, her voice drowsy and low. This time, her head gently touched the table. “Now get out so I can sleep.”

 

Faith ignored the order and waited for Meredith’s breathing to slow down. Then she lifted the small woman in her arms and carried her to her quarters.

 

“Edward…no. You can’t leave.” Meredith was barely conscious, her head rolling back on the pillow. “No.”

 

Faith froze at the mournful plea. The unbidden emotion poured like cold water from Meredith’s damp skin, frightening Faith in its wake. Careful not to touch her any further, she removed Meredith’s boots. Then she quietly left the room.

 

Faith nearly stumbled over Billy, who was asleep in the hallway. He’d drawn up his knees, using them for a pillow.

 

“Hey!” He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and gave Faith a lazy grin. “You two friends now? Talk about getting blood from a stone.”

 

“I wonder how much you really see with your eyes, Billy.” Too weary to bicker, she dropped down beside him and pressed her back against the wall. “Do something for me.”

 

“You’re not what I’d call a cursing girl, but I’ll get lost if you want.” He yawned, clearly showing he had no intention of going anywhere.

 

“Follow Meredith tomorrow. Let me know where she goes.”

 

“What do you think she’s up to?”

 

“If I knew that, I would not need you to follow her.” 

 

“Tracking tigers would be easier.” Billy sat up now, annoyed to be given such a dangerous task.  “Why didn’t ya just say, sorry and make up?”

 

“I am not the one troubling her.”

 

Faith left Billy in the hallway to ponder her words. She said a prayer for Meredith before going to bed. And she said another prayer for misunderstanding the woman’s pain. 

 

 

***

 

Billy’s undercover work proved fruitless. For two days, Meredith managed to slip past him with Algernon’s help; the horse led him to sand traps, tangled him in low-hanging branches, and pitched him into the lake.

 

“I will do it myself,” Faith said, “and without Algernon’s help.”

 

She woke hours before Meredith, corking her pale skin and wrapping her body in a dark green robe. By noon, Meredith had led her on a chase worthy of Algernon’s exploits. Out of the forest and past the town square, Faith tracked Meredith like a bloodhound until losing sight of her at the pier.

 

Faith brought a hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the noonday sun. She looked up and down the deserted pier, and caught sight of Meredith standing near the Stuart, waving a green cloth in the air. 

 

“My cloak!” Faith raised the hem of her torn robe. She grabbed the end of the little flag, and pulled it from Meredith’s hands.

 

“The hunter becomes the hunted.” Meredith’s eyes sparkled with danger belying her lopsided grin. “Come aboard, bounty hunter. I may even let you wash that dirty face of yours.”

 

“What are you doing out here?”

 

“I don’t work on the Sabbath. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be painting your flock’s heads with oil, bathing their feet….”

 

“When I can bathe you in the sea?”

 

“Now, now,” Meredith wag a finger. “That’s called mutiny.” She boarded a small boat docked near the Stuart.  “If we row out into deeper water, they’ll never find the body.”

 

Whose body?  Faith wondered, but she followed Meredith onto the vessel.

 

Meredith’s hair blazed under the sun as they headed out to sea. The play of muscles under her skin and the tanned complexion were those of healthy woman, not the ghostly image Faith had put to bed a few days ago. Faith threw out the anchor then crossed to Meredith, taking hold of her arm. “More sedatives?”

 

“Are you crazy? Never drop anchor when a boat’s moving!” Meredith said, cutting the engine.

 

Then Faith realized that they had moved under the same power their ancestors were famous for-had ultimately killed for. Greenford was another Sodom and Gomorrah under false sails.

 

“You think we’re wicked, don’t you?” Meredith asked.

 

“Can you read thoughts?”

 

Meredith laughed. “No, that’s your…talent.”

 

Faith shook her head. Who could possibly understand what she felt when she found it so perplexing? This gift, this curse. “I-I feel things. I wish I did not. ”

 

Meredith pulled her arm from Faith grasp, and settled on a wood bench. “Sometimes it’s better not to,” she said softly.

 

Words failing her, Faith sat beside Meredith and looked out on the rolling waves. She removed her gloves and held Meredith’s hands, surprised by the other woman allowing the touch. Calm settled over her, softer than the winds chasing blue waves. A calm that settled her mind.

 

Meredith turned to her. “If I teach you how to beat back this fever, it would mean going against everything the Sisters taught you,” she said. “Still want to assist me?”

 

“Yes. Will you send me back to Irving when the fever is over?”

 

“What do you feel?”

 

Faith blushed. “You are mocking me.”

 

“I’m playing with you.”

 

Playing. Faith wasn’t used to this kind if devilment, not from Meredith, anyway. “I do not think I will drown you after all, but I will assist you. And before I leave Greenford, you will build a temple and beg me to stay.”

 

Faith put her gloves back on, feeling a bit triumphant at the disbelieving frown she’d brought to Meredith’s face. However, she made sure to stay away from the edge of the boat.

 

 

***

 

If Meredith felt uncomfortable about Faith’s gift of touch she gave no indication while they worked together in the Mansion cellar. She’d grown accustomed to the companionable silence, using little more than a touch or glance to guide her new assistant.

 

The only fault Meredith found with Faith’s performance was her curious habit of laying a cloth over the face of her autopsy subjects. Otherwise, her analysis of their demise was excellent.

 

“We must honor the dead for what they teach us,” Faith said, after sewing up her latest subject.

 

Meredith regarded her quietly before handing her a vial of oil to anoint the dead man. She was slowing slipping back into the ways of the Sisters and found it comforting rather than annoying. Faith made it easy. Easy for Meredith to come to terms with what she would have to do in the coming days to fight the plague in Greenford.

 

They wrapped the body, leaving it for Billy to bury. Then they entered Meredith’s private bath where they checked each other for signs of the disease- a ritual she’d never undertaken with other assistants. She recalled the scores of women she’d taught over the years. Women who had never lost the squeamishness of young girls: afraid to display their body under the gaze of an elder. Faith had no such modesty, no concept of the beauty others saw in her. 

 

“You may bathe now.” Meredith sat on the tub’s edge, contented to remain by Faith’s side.

 

Meredith pressed Faith’s shoulder, leaning her forward. And she convinced herself that her gaze was that of a physician’s, her hands those of a mentor gently soaping Faith’s back-a comfortable, quiet affection between teacher and student.

 

“Should I fall ill,” Faith said, startling Meredith with her soft voice, “I want you to recite the Sisters’ Prayer.”

 

The spell of contentment was broken. Meredith removed her hands, and took refuge by the window. The sun’s rays played against the frosted glass, lighting the room with a soft yellow glow. But the stench of plague lay outside this small room, and most of Greenford denied its existence, preferring to carry on their lives in blissful ignorance. Faith brought it home, dissecting it like a corpse, neither bargaining its injustice or railing at its power.

 

“I’ll unlock the secret of this damned disease, Faith. No one will fall sick again.”

 

“How do you propose to do such a thing?”  Faith played in the sudsy water, sluicing it over her skin with a sponge.

 

“You have so many questions.”

 

“And you leave them all unanswered.” Faith moved to the end of the tub. “Join me before the water cools.”

 

“No. I’d rather watch you.”

 

Yet Meredith drew near, shrugging off the gray mantle of Greenford plague.

 

***

 

The next morning, Faith paid her first of many visits to the homes of the townsfolk. She persuaded the ill to go with Meredith’s guards to the clinic, and taught others precautions to remain healthy. Rather than scaring them, the citizens of Greenford responded to her no-nonsense approach and soon found the courage to turn themselves over to the authorities at the first sign of fever.

 

“I want to attend the next house with you.” Ivy appeared, blocking Faith’s path on the main road. Her hair was wild, her clothes unkempt. Sleep hadn’t touched her face in days.

 

“That would not be advisable.” Faith attempted to move past the woman.

 

“I know as much as you do- maybe more, little assistant.” Ivy spat on the cobble stones. “How long do you think she will keep you? She’ll cast you aside like all the rest when she becomes bored or you die from the damn plague.”

 

Faith almost lost her bearing when Ivy fell to her knees and grabbed the hem of her robe. The woman’s eyes betrayed a fever no medicine could cure.

 

“But she didn’t get rid of me.” Ivy used Faith’s robe for leverage, winding her way up from the ground like a vine. Then she trapped Faith in her arms. “Do you know what the milk of human kindness is, Faith? It’ll jump out and cut you both ways. I-” 

 

“Ivy!” Malcolm approached with two guards. “Take her to the inn.”

 

“Burn my Edward…my Edward.” Ivy struggled, forcing the guards to drag her away. “I’ll show you fire….”

 

“From Meredith-she said you forgot them.” Malcolm handed Faith her gloves. “Are you all right?”

 

Faith quickly put them on; she’d had enough of Ivy’s touch.  “It is not my safety I fear for.”

 

“Don’t listen to Ivy. Her head is cracked from grief, so she tends to spread unseemly rumors. Unfortunately she’s not the only one.”

 

“And threats,” Faith added. “Please put a guard on Meredith.”

 

“She won’t allow that.”  Malcolm held out his arm and accompanied Faith to the next cottage. “Don’t worry about Meredith. She knows as well as I that fever times makes some people act rashly.”

 

“That is no excuse for what Ivy said.” Faith held Malcolm’s gaze. “Was she one of Meredith’s assistants?”

 

“Faith, trust me, you wouldn’t understand.”

 

“I believe I do.”

 

“I-I’ll see about that guard.”

 

Malcolm met her eyes briefly before taking his leave. And in that one glance, Faith felt his disapproval. She opened the cottage gate, turning to find curious eyes peering at her from the windows. Then she steeled herself, vowing that once the fever passed, she would take on the contagion of ignorance brewing in Greenford.

 

 

***

Faith had completed her first round of house-to-house calls around midday, and decided to return to Meredith’s lab.

 

“How did your day go?” Meredith asked, carefully locking away a vial of serum.

 

“So far, only four people show signs of contagion. They went peacefully to the clinic.”

 

“That’s four too many. We have to work faster.” Meredith sighed, and leaned against the table.

 

Faith moved behind Meredith and peered over her shoulder. “Is it ready for testing? If it is, I can send Billy and Howard to capture a rodent.”

 

“Rodent? Ah, yes, we must find a rodent.”

 

“You are lying to me.”

 

“I am not. Care to touch me and find out?”

 

“I touched Ivy today, or rather she touched me

 

“Did she hurt you? Because if she did…”

 

“I think she meant to warn me.”  

 

“I see.”

 

Faith slipped her arms around Meredith, and they both grew quiet. It wasn’t the companionable quiet of the bathhouse, or the silent pleasure of their work. This quiet took a strange and solemn turn, unpleasant for them both. 

 

Finally, Faith blurted out what Ivy had told her, instantly regretting the effect it had on Meredith.

 

Milk of human kindness. She would say something like that.”

 

“What did she mean?” Faith asked.

 

“She was referring to Wynona.” Meredith paused for a moment then continued in a pained voice, “Ivy is too unstable to care for my…to care for a child right now.”

 

“She knows that Wynona is safe with you.”

 

“But she doesn’t believe that you are.”

 

They lapsed into silence once again, each retreating into their own thoughts until Meredith touched her hand to Faith’s cheek. “As for Ivy’s warning; I would never do anything to dishonor you...to take you away from your beliefs.”

 

“That saddens me.”

 

“What?”  Meredith let her hand drop.

 

“Your use of the word dishonor. I do not find dishonor inside you, Meredith-distrust perhaps…”

 

Meredith did not respond. She moved to the autopsy table and laid a towel over the face of a young man. “This one died from pneumonic plague,” she said, donning a mask and gown. “Suit up and we’ll begin.”

 

 

***