“Fair enough.” He offered no argument, just raised his pipe to his lips for a long, steady draw.
While we spoke, the color had remained strong in his face compared to the deathly paleness I’d seen on the road when he first got wind that something was amiss. “If you don’t mind me saying,” I said to him. “You’re taking all of this rather well.”
He leaned forward, his light brown eyes fixed on mine. “A person don’t live in Ireland without expecting to see a strange thing from time to time.” He winked at me. “It wouldn’t be natural.”
I smiled at his words when a sudden idea struck me. “Perhaps there is something more I can do.”
Seamus gave me a curious look. “Nothing that will get you in trouble, or Fianna will have me hide.”
“Not at all,” I said excitedly. “This is well within the rules, and nothing less than you deserve from all you’ve done for Ailish and me.”
Ailish spouted an assent so quickly, she must have known what I was up to.
Seamus blew out more smoke, adding to the haze that hung over our heads. “How long have you been taking a pipe?” I asked him.
“Hmm. Started while me grandmam was still alive.” Seamus pinched his lip again. “Must be twenty years if a day.”
“That’s a long time.” I reached to him. “Here, take my hand.”
He only hesitated a second. “All right.” His fingers curled around mine. “I don’t need anything reattached though.”
“It’s nothing like that,” I said as a small fire burst to life inside of me. “Now you will feel a bit of warmth flowing up your arm. Don’t be alarmed. I’m going to take a peek at your lungs and throat and heal any damage you’ve done from smoking.”
His eyes grew wider with each word. “Is it safe?” He began to pull his hand away, but I held tight.
“Very safe,” I assured him. “Much more than the tar I’m sure to find stuck to your lungs.”
“You can see in there?”
“Shh,” I breathed. “Let me concentrate.”
His head bobbed in quick, jerky motions. “You do what you need then. I’ll just sit here and be—” He froze the moment Brigid’s fire flowed into him. “I feel it,” he whispered, though there was no one near enough to hear. “It be moving up me arm. Hoh—”
The abrupt noise burst from his throat as I plunged into his right lung. Layers of spongy tissue immediately surrounded me, pockmarked and mottled black from years of smoke. Cursed habit. I jumped to the other side, and saw right away that the entire area had to be healed. By good fortune, there was no sign of cancerous growth.
A rush of warmth flowed into him, bathing the affected tissue. Seamus shifted in the chair but didn’t attempt to break contact. Peeking beneath one eyelid, I saw he had pressed the other hand to his chest. “Are you inside me lungs?” he whispered.
“Yes, and it’s a mess in here. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”
The warmth continued to flow, where I directed it first into the tiny air sacs that lined each lung. Slowly, the tar began to give way to the creamy white of healthy tissue. Then I moved up the airways, healing the damage that had been done to these tubes.
Seamus sighed. “That...that feels good.”
“Almost done,” I murmured, following the respiratory path to the trachea, across the larynx and into the throat, where I soothed the inflamed red tissue. He swallowed from the sensation.
“Just your mouth and nose left,” I said, moving higher.
Seamus’s hand tightened around mine as the breath turned choppy through his nose.
“A few seconds more is all—”
“A...a-choo!” His grip slipped under the force of the sneeze. My eyes flew open, and I blinked several times, readjusting to so abrupt a change.
Seamus wrestled a rather dingy square of linen from his coat pocket and dabbed at his nose. “Pardon me, Selah. The tickling came on too sudden. There wasn’t any way to stop it.”
Ailish giggled. “Never heard a man sneeze so.”
“Not to worry,” I said. “I’d just finished when you broke contact. Try a deep breath and see if you notice any difference.”
Seamus dabbed his nose once more before returning the square to his pocket. As he drew in a long stream of air, his face turned quite serious. Exhaling slowly, he leaned back in the chair and stared at me.
“I forgot how grand it feels to really fill me chest.” He tapped the pipe against his leg in a thoughtful manner. “Me da died o’ lung sickness, you know. Night and day, hacking his guts out. Always figured someday I’d go the same way.” He cleared a roughness from his throat. “You gave me a tremendous gift today, Selah, and I thank you for it.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. MacCabe. You’ve been a true friend to Ailish and me these past two days.”