Riona passed Jory a cup of tea. “To help sober you up.”
Aoife finished smoothing the paste beneath the cloth, then rose and offered a few prayers to the Sheedar. She walked in a circle around the room, murmuring the words, a ritual meant to keep evil spirits out of the house and out of the wound. The remaining paste she divided between two bandages.
“Tell your daughter to change your dressing tomorrow morning.” Aoife said, pressing a bandage into Jory’s hand.
Cormac returned then, arms full of firewood. “Noticed you were running low.” He said as he laid it on the woodpile next to the hearth, which served as a fire for both heating and cooking.
Jory made a pitiful groan.
“Sorry, I…” Cormac looked between Jory and his mother, trying to figure out what was happening. “I can take it away if you don’t want it.”
Riona crouched beside Jory, placing a hand on his arm.
He looked up at her, eyes wet. “It’s too much,” he muttered, and Aoife understood. Feeling like a burden had driven him to drink in the first place. With everyone here, hovering and tending to him, it was more than he could bear. She gathered her things, took Cormac’s hand, and led him outside.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No,” Aoife shook her head. “I don’t think we’re what he needs.” He needed time to grieve his wife, to mourn the life and the purpose he had lost.
Aoife slung her satchel over her shoulder, and they walked together towards the village square.
“That’s only going to end one way,” Cormac said.
“How do you mean?”
“The way he’s going, next time someone finds him, it won’t be passed out on the street. It’ll be dead in a ditch.”
“You don’t know that.”
Cormac gave her the pitying look she hated, the one he gave her when she was acting naive. “We’ve seen it happen enough.”
“People can surprise you,” Aoife said. “I saw a lot helping my mother. She didn’t think Morgane would walk again after she broke her leg; look at her now. People can do extraordinary things under pressure or when given a reason to hope.”
“I don’t see a lot to be hopeful about, do you?”
He was right, of course. She had no response.
A bump in the road caused Aoife to stumble, her satchel bashing against her side. She smiled at what was inside. She dug in with both hands, pulling out three large, shiny apples.
“Here,” Aoife said. “Here’s your hope.”
He laughed, but didn’t move to take them. “You need them more than I do.”
“Go on,” she said.
He hesitated only a moment longer before nodding, trusting her judgement as he always did.
“Where did you get these?”
“Bonnie Mineor’s brother. She asked me to go see him in Dromdara this morning. His eldest is sick.”
“Were you able to help him?”
She gave him a hard look.
“Right, stupid question.”
“He promised food in exchange, and when I finished he took me out to their old apple tree, told me I could have any I could reach.”
