The Endless Forest
Page 147
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But he didn’t need to know that.
Daniel came in, sweat-drenched and bare-chested, to find two of his sisters sitting with Martha.
She looked to be in a fine mood, which might mean she hadn’t been up to the attic yet, or another possibility: She wasn’t looking at him because she was mad and didn’t want to show it.
It had been a calculated risk. The truth was, he liked Martha in a temper, because arguments led to lively discussions where she let her guard down. The note was supposed to make her just that mad and no madder.
That whole line of reasoning had required exactly as much time as Birdie needed to propel herself across the room like a spinning top.
“I knew you’d keep your word!”
“Your faith in me is much appreciated,” Daniel said dryly. He took a towel from the washstand and began to wipe himself down while Birdie held center stage.
“Can I explain it to you? Hannah, can I explain to him?”
“Go right ahead,” Hannah said, looking up from a thick stack of closely written papers.
Birdie held herself very straight and still, as though she were reciting in front of a class.
“The idea is, bad things get caught up in you and can’t find a way out. And these needles, they make holes—tiny little holes—for the bad to come out of. So you’ll feel better.”
“Like a lightning rod,” Daniel suggested, and she scowled at him.
“Not like a lightning rod. A lightning rod is there for the lightning to grab on to. A lightning rod fools the lightning into staying away from trees and people and houses. This has got nothing to do with grabbing on; it has to do with letting go. Helping the nerves let go. Isn’t that right, Hannah?”
“In the essentials.” Hannah had opened her bag on the table and was taking out bits and pieces and lining them up. To Birdie she said, “I will need water.”
Birdie shot outside and soon the sound of the pump working came to them. Daniel found himself standing there, unobserved, while Martha talked to Hannah about what she might need, whether the bed or the table or perhaps even the floor would be the best place for Daniel to stretch out.
Daniel took the opportunity to open the carved wooden box Hannah had brought with her. Some twenty needles on a bed of silky green velvet overlaid with white silk. Thin needles as long as a finger, with small ivory grips at one end. Tucked into the velvet that lined the inside top of the box was a folded piece of paper that turned out to be a diagram of the human body. The writing was in Arabic and English printed very small in a neat hand.
“Daniel?” Hannah called again, and he turned to her.
“As soon as Birdie gets here with the water—” she pulled a jar of soft soap from her bag, “we can all wash and begin.”
There was no arguing with Hannah when it came to washing before she treated someone. She and everyone else in the room would wash three times. Hands were then examined and if there was dirt beneath the fingernails or if the fingernails extended at all beyond the nailbed, that person would have to clip their nails and start again. She was unrelenting on this point, which she had learned from Hakim Ibrahim when she was very young.
Daniel had once asked her to explain the reasoning to him in more detail, which had resulted in a visit to the small building that had once been Richard Todd’s lab. Hannah had brought her microscope out into the daylight and then had him examine all sorts of things from pond water to spit until he conceded that yes, there were beings smaller than the human eye could perceive and yes, it made sense to be as free as possible from such things when she was trying to fix something.
People who came to her for help gave in to her demands soon enough and few even remarked about it anymore. Except for Jennet, who made a needlepoint banner to frame and hang in Hannah’s workroom: Evil resides beneath the fingernails.
In some things Hannah had no sense of humor, but she had smiled and allowed Jennet to hang the needlework.
The plain truth was, the citizens of Paradise had good reason to trust Hannah. If you listened to her and did as she told you to do, there was a pretty high chance that you’d eventually get up out of bed and go on about your business. But the respect she had in Paradise didn’t extend beyond its borders.
“Are you thinking of Nut Island?” Hannah asked, bringing him up out of his thoughts with a jerk.
“That was the last time you operated on me,” Daniel agreed.
“This isn’t an operation,” Hannah said. “But I hope it will do you some good anyway.” She turned to Martha.
“You are very quiet. Does the idea of this particular treatment bother you?”
Martha pursed her lips and Daniel had to resist the urge to laugh out loud. She was mad, all right.
Before Martha could answer Daniel said, “Just don’t let her get hold of those needles.”
“Oh?” Hannah raised an eyebrow, glancing back and forth between them. “I gather you’ve given your new wife reason to be angry.”
“Why do you jump to that conclusion?” Daniel said, vaguely affronted.
“Because she knows you,” Martha said.
Hannah said, “Martha, if you’d rather not stay—”
Martha gave a short laugh. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Chapter L
When Birdie came along with Hannah on a call, she spent the whole walk home peppering her with questions. Why one kind of fever tea over another, how quickly a bone would knit, when a baby might be born, what Hannah heard when she put her ear to someone’s back, and what those sounds meant.
Daniel came in, sweat-drenched and bare-chested, to find two of his sisters sitting with Martha.
She looked to be in a fine mood, which might mean she hadn’t been up to the attic yet, or another possibility: She wasn’t looking at him because she was mad and didn’t want to show it.
It had been a calculated risk. The truth was, he liked Martha in a temper, because arguments led to lively discussions where she let her guard down. The note was supposed to make her just that mad and no madder.
That whole line of reasoning had required exactly as much time as Birdie needed to propel herself across the room like a spinning top.
“I knew you’d keep your word!”
“Your faith in me is much appreciated,” Daniel said dryly. He took a towel from the washstand and began to wipe himself down while Birdie held center stage.
“Can I explain it to you? Hannah, can I explain to him?”
“Go right ahead,” Hannah said, looking up from a thick stack of closely written papers.
Birdie held herself very straight and still, as though she were reciting in front of a class.
“The idea is, bad things get caught up in you and can’t find a way out. And these needles, they make holes—tiny little holes—for the bad to come out of. So you’ll feel better.”
“Like a lightning rod,” Daniel suggested, and she scowled at him.
“Not like a lightning rod. A lightning rod is there for the lightning to grab on to. A lightning rod fools the lightning into staying away from trees and people and houses. This has got nothing to do with grabbing on; it has to do with letting go. Helping the nerves let go. Isn’t that right, Hannah?”
“In the essentials.” Hannah had opened her bag on the table and was taking out bits and pieces and lining them up. To Birdie she said, “I will need water.”
Birdie shot outside and soon the sound of the pump working came to them. Daniel found himself standing there, unobserved, while Martha talked to Hannah about what she might need, whether the bed or the table or perhaps even the floor would be the best place for Daniel to stretch out.
Daniel took the opportunity to open the carved wooden box Hannah had brought with her. Some twenty needles on a bed of silky green velvet overlaid with white silk. Thin needles as long as a finger, with small ivory grips at one end. Tucked into the velvet that lined the inside top of the box was a folded piece of paper that turned out to be a diagram of the human body. The writing was in Arabic and English printed very small in a neat hand.
“Daniel?” Hannah called again, and he turned to her.
“As soon as Birdie gets here with the water—” she pulled a jar of soft soap from her bag, “we can all wash and begin.”
There was no arguing with Hannah when it came to washing before she treated someone. She and everyone else in the room would wash three times. Hands were then examined and if there was dirt beneath the fingernails or if the fingernails extended at all beyond the nailbed, that person would have to clip their nails and start again. She was unrelenting on this point, which she had learned from Hakim Ibrahim when she was very young.
Daniel had once asked her to explain the reasoning to him in more detail, which had resulted in a visit to the small building that had once been Richard Todd’s lab. Hannah had brought her microscope out into the daylight and then had him examine all sorts of things from pond water to spit until he conceded that yes, there were beings smaller than the human eye could perceive and yes, it made sense to be as free as possible from such things when she was trying to fix something.
People who came to her for help gave in to her demands soon enough and few even remarked about it anymore. Except for Jennet, who made a needlepoint banner to frame and hang in Hannah’s workroom: Evil resides beneath the fingernails.
In some things Hannah had no sense of humor, but she had smiled and allowed Jennet to hang the needlework.
The plain truth was, the citizens of Paradise had good reason to trust Hannah. If you listened to her and did as she told you to do, there was a pretty high chance that you’d eventually get up out of bed and go on about your business. But the respect she had in Paradise didn’t extend beyond its borders.
“Are you thinking of Nut Island?” Hannah asked, bringing him up out of his thoughts with a jerk.
“That was the last time you operated on me,” Daniel agreed.
“This isn’t an operation,” Hannah said. “But I hope it will do you some good anyway.” She turned to Martha.
“You are very quiet. Does the idea of this particular treatment bother you?”
Martha pursed her lips and Daniel had to resist the urge to laugh out loud. She was mad, all right.
Before Martha could answer Daniel said, “Just don’t let her get hold of those needles.”
“Oh?” Hannah raised an eyebrow, glancing back and forth between them. “I gather you’ve given your new wife reason to be angry.”
“Why do you jump to that conclusion?” Daniel said, vaguely affronted.
“Because she knows you,” Martha said.
Hannah said, “Martha, if you’d rather not stay—”
Martha gave a short laugh. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Chapter L
When Birdie came along with Hannah on a call, she spent the whole walk home peppering her with questions. Why one kind of fever tea over another, how quickly a bone would knit, when a baby might be born, what Hannah heard when she put her ear to someone’s back, and what those sounds meant.
