Just when I thought it necessary to pry her fingers loose, she let go and took a step back. “But what were the flowers for?” she asked, glimpsing them still in my hand.
I bent over and tucked them behind her ear. “For you, silly goose. Now go on home before your mother starts wondering what you’re up to.”
“Yes, Selah,” she said and went off at a skip, her young worries solved for one day.
With one patient remaining, I stepped back into my apothecary where I found Henry watching me curiously. “I could have sworn that bird’s wing was broken,” he said. “What did you do?”
“It was only a simple tweak,” Ben said ahead of me. “Mistress Kilbrid just had to straighten it out a bit. Now, if there’s no more critters needing your attention, would you mind tending to my hand?”
“Oh, yes,” I said, grateful for his quick answer. His middle finger was swollen big as a sausage, and it took no special skill to see it had slipped from the joint. “Why didn’t you tell me it was so serious?” I scolded. “The bird could have waited.”
“It’s not so bad,” Ben said, wincing when I applied the smallest pressure.
“How did this happen?” I felt along the bones and joints, checking for additional damage.
“Well...we were...umm,” Ben started clumsily, not quite so ready with his own excuse.
“Ben and I were working on some new defensive farming techniques,” Henry offered instead.
I didn’t believe him for a moment. “Is that so?”
Henry smiled, while Ben grunted something unintelligible.
No further explanation seemed to be forthcoming. “Well, you’re lucky nothing’s broken,” I said. “You best get ready, because this is going to hurt.” I pulled the affected finger and slid the bone back into joint. Ben flinched from the sudden movement, but it was over in seconds. I then applied a poultice to help with bruising, and splinted the middle and index finger together to keep the bone from slipping back out of joint until the swelling went down.
“You must be careful,” I told Ben when the treatment was finished. “And no more defensive farming techniques for a while.” My words brought a sufficiently guilty look to Ben’s face. Henry had no such guilt, his smile broadening as they left the apothecary.
Healing one boy, two men and a bird had taken longer than expected. Back in my room, I quickly washed and smoothed my hair into place for supper. While my father lived and had strength enough to eat in the dining room, he’d been a stickler about meals being served at the same time each day. Either from routine or respect, Mrs. Ryan had kept to the same schedule after his passing. I barely made it to the table when the small mantel clock struck the seventh hour. Henry came in a moment later, also refreshed from a long day of work.
Since we had officially reconciled last night, it turned out to be the most pleasant meal we had shared so far. Over fresh pea soup and roasted chicken, I told him about my day, or the parts that could be shared without giving the servants too much more to gossip about with the neighbors. Heaven knows they already had enough to keep the town talking for the near future.
After supper I excused myself to read in the smaller parlor, and smiled in surprise when Henry followed me rather than going for one of his long walks alone. The distant thunder and impending rain were probably the greater influence, but I liked to think he had stayed for my company. Several candles had already been lit, casting the room in soft light and making it a most comfortable place to spend the evening. I moved toward my usual place on the sofa when Henry spied a chessboard set up on a small table.
“Do you play?” he asked.
I looked at the board with mixed feelings. “I used to play often with my father before he got too sick.”
“Then we are the same. My father also taught me, but it has been months since I last played. Would you care for a game?”
He wore that smile I adored, and quite suddenly I very much wanted to play chess again. “Yes, I would.” I set the book aside and took a seat in front of the black pieces.
We didn’t speak much at first while we studied the board and assessed each other’s skill. He proved a thoughtful opponent, though he tended to place his pieces more boldly than I was accustomed.
“Have you had a chance to meet many of our neighbors yet?” I asked once the game had taken on a good rhythm.
“Some, while riding around with Ben.”
“And what is your opinion of Hopewell so far?”
Henry glanced down at the board, either to consider his next move or how best to answer my question. “It’s a nicely situated town,” he said as he attacked my pawn with a knight.
“And what do you think of the people?”
“Those I’ve met seem pleasant enough.”
Could he be anymore vague? Nicely situated and pleasant enough, indeed! Such descriptions were meant for spinster aunts living in rented rooms—not my beloved Hopewell.