I stayed until his shoulders relaxed.
When he finally looked up, he seemed embarrassed. “Can I keep the pencil?”
“It’s all yours.”
“And the pad?”
“The pad, too.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
I stood to leave, but he spoke again before I reached the door. “Winnie?”
“Yes?”
“If I write something really bad, do I have to show you?”
“No. But if you write something you are proud of,” I added, “I would be honored to read it.”
He gave me a tentative smile, then went back to writing.
Downstairs, Billie had awakened with a renewed interest in life. She requested crunchy soup, which turned out to mean toast cut into triangles that she could dip into soup. Bianca followed me into the kitchen, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“What’s in the tea you gave us today?” she asked.
“Peppermint, ginger, a little catnip, and honey.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Catnip is for cats.”
“Humans can consume it as well.”
“Does it make humans behave like cats?”
“No, it has a calming effect.”
Billie called, “I want to behave like a cat.” The girl had superhuman hearing sometimes.
“You already knock things off counters,” Bianca said.
I set a small cup of cooled tea in front of Bianca. “Catnip has been used traditionally for digestive upset and sleep.Peppermint helps with nausea for some people, and ginger is also useful for the stomach.”
Bianca leaned forward. “How old is that knowledge?”
“Old.”
“How old?”
“Very.”
“That is not a measurement,” she pointed out.
“No, but it’s what you’re getting.”
She looked dissatisfied, so, naturally, she continued with the questions. “Was that the kind of medicine people used during plagues?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “During outbreaks, people used whatever they understood at the time. Herbs, vinegar, smoke, prayer, isolation, charms, bloodletting. Some helped. Many did not. Some made things worse.”
