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“See, you treat me like a queen. They treat me like a baby.”
Sorrow slid into place much like that lock had moments ago. “I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t think it’s right to baby people who are terminally ill.”
“Did Raven tell you about the cancer?”
I nodded. “Yes, madam.”
“Madam. Now that’s too old for me.”
“My apologies. It’s in my nature to be respectful.”
Amusement brought another grin. “I was just teasing you, dear. You can get on with the tea early and head to the bathroom.”
“As you wish.”
Obvious thought had gone into this assignment by Raven. Tender strength was required in this case. A bit of caretaking on top of repairs would definitely bring Claire back to life. Pity must have been her daily encounter. Something so monotonous would get on my nerves faster than it had hers.
No wonder Raven had chosen me for the task. Surely a little pity was needed, yes, but not for the entire time. Claire was perfectly happy being served as long as she was treated as a woman, not a child. How anyone could treat her differently astounded me.
Sickness was largely unpredictable. Reasonably, people acted in accordance with their perceived notions of caretaking. Since caretaking often involved caring for children, naturally, that gave way to treating adults much the same.
Back in Estaria, I’d tended to many injured soldiers during battle. On the field and in the barracks, our numbers remained level with my steady hands bouncing from one person to the next. Sympathy and respect were as important as stillness.
Here, that knowledge seemed to apply as well. Tea sounded like a wonderful idea, and I fetched it dutifully, returning to Claire the moment it was done so it would stay hot. When she was settled and had sipped some without much assistance, I went to the bathroom to fix the plumbing.
Someone had been flushing cotton swabs, causing the toilet to flow over and the other pipes to do the same. Some elbow grease and a bit of draining later, everything was in working order. The wad of cotton swabs was deplorable, and I removed it rapidly with my speedy movements so Claire wouldn’t need to inhale the putrid smell.
Disposal of the trash was needed as well. Light chores were always part of caretaking, and I took this in stride while tidying up the place. I must have lost myself to the rhythm for the clock in the hall struck twelve, inspiring Claire to call for me.
She took my hand. “You did so much so quickly.”
“Elderling power has its perks.”
“Would you mind giving me a boost to get to the table?”
I smiled. “Of course, Miss Claire.”
Small tendrils of gold trailed from my fingers as they had earlier that morning, granting her a miniature burst of energy. She walked unguided to the kitchen table and sat down with the most glorious of smiles. Victory looked good on her. I made a mental note to return more often for this purpose.
Sadness crashed into me rather suddenly at the thought of that possibly weekly ritual coming to an end at some point.
“I’m sorry I can’t cure it,” I whispered as I went about making her sandwich—ham and cheese. “There are many things I can heal. Cancer isn’t one of them.”
“I understand. Magic doesn’t work out of thin air.”
Ah, to be recognized was a wonderful thing. “That’s correct.”
“My son is such a pain about everything. He’s funny, but he’s a pain. If only he had someone like you around to balance him out.”
I smiled whimsically. “Who is your son?”
“His name is Xavier. He mentioned you once.”
Xavier—as in Avi—wasn’t it? The man I kept calling by a nickname that hadn’t made sense until my memories assaulted my brain. While I respected my elders for their assistance in hiding my pain, I felt a ball of resentment glowing inside me. “Oh, he’s been working on the gym project.”
“He’s told me some about that. But he won’t spare many details. What do you two argue about?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
