by Jane Toombs
Phil Jenkins' wagon had scarcely driven away when someone knocked on the still open door.
"Doctor, be you in?" a man called.
Nick hastily pulled a shirt over his bare torso and hurried to the front of the house. To his surprise, Kurt Lindenblatt stood on the porch with Miss Waisenen in his arms, her white gown stained and soiled, her long blonde hair draped over his arm.
"Liisi's hurt," Kurt said gruffly.
Nick did his best not to stare at her. "Bring her in," he said.
"She twisted her ankle in the woods," Kurt added as he followed Nick to what had been the front parlor but was to be his office. At the moment its furnishings were a cot and an old desk and chair.
Nick motioned to the cot and Kurt eased Liisi onto it before standing back.
"I'll go get the missus," Kurt said over his shoulder as he left the room, closing the office door behind him.
Alone with Liisi Waisenen, Nick took a deep breath, trying to control his inner trembling. He'd have to touch her, examine her, and he couldn't allow his attraction to her to show. He had to calm himself, to think of her as a patient, not a troublesomely beautiful woman. Somehow, he must ignore her beauty as well as the blue energy crackling around her.
Behave like the doctor you're pretending to be, he admonished himself.
"I've seen you before but we haven't met," he said as evenly as he could, pulling over the chair so he was sitting beside the cot. "I'm Nicholas Deplacer."
"My name is Liisi. Liisi Waisenen." Her words were delightfully accented and she lifted her hand toward him as Creole ladies did.
Though he'd learned to bring a woman's hand to his lips in the approved fashion, he didn't dare kiss hers. God knows what would happen to him if he did. Since he couldn't avoid doing something, he took her hand in his, turning it over as though to examine the palm.
He froze. Time seemed to stop for a long moment as he stared at the red pentacle etched into the flesh of her palm until it faded and disappeared.
"It is not my hand I have hurt, doctor." Liisi's voice jarred him out of his shock. "It is my ankle."
Nick swallowed, trying to gather his wits. Not her!
He couldn't permit the beast to kill her. Never!
Liisi tugged gently at the hand he still held and, numbly, he released it.
"My left ankle, doctor," she said firmly.
"Yes, yes, of course." He leaned over and reached for her foot, noting that her white kid boot was unbuttoned almost all the way down.
With shaking hands, he eased it from her foot. A white stocking covered the foot and ankle, then disappeared under the hem of her gown, its silk soft and slick under his lingering fingers. The stocking would have to come off. Despite the shock of seeing the star on her palm, arousal tingled through him as he imagined reaching under her skirt to her thigh and easing the top of the stocking from under the garter that held it against her soft skin.
With an effort, he drew his hand away and said formally, "Miss Waisenen, your stocking must be removed before I can examine your ankle." He turned his back.
What was he doing here? he asked himself bitterly as he tried not to listen to the suggestive rustle of her clothing. How could he set himself up as a doctor, knowing what must happen when the moon was full?
Worse than the rustle of clothes was her energy. He could feel it tugging at his mind, exciting him further.
What was Liisi? A witch? He sensed no evil, despite Mima's warning.
"I am ready, doctor." Liisi's voice, soft yet clear, was as lovely as the rest of her.
He turned to her, determined to concentrate solely on her injury. He touched her swelling ankle with gentle fingers, feeling for broken bones and finding none.
"You have a sprain," he told her at last, keeping his gaze on her ankle. "That means you've wrenched and twisted your ankle joint. I'll wrap it for you but healing takes time. It'll heal faster if you stay off your foot."
She sat up. "You could make it heal faster."
Startled, he looked at her. Her slightly slanted eyes, more gray than blue, held his.
"I can feel your healing power," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He couldn't look away, her gaze seemed to penetrate his very soul. "You have power, too," he said, feeling the words drawn from him against his will.
"I cannot heal myself without your help." She reached for his hands and placed them around her swollen ankle. "Please," she whispered.
Nick closed his eyes, willing a flow of energy through his hands to her. Attempting to transfer his energy to another wasn't new to him, he'd tried it with some of Dr. Kellogg's patients. Sometimes he'd helped, sometimes not. "Mmmm." Her murmur was almost a purr and he felt, like a mind caress, the surge of her energy meeting his.
He knew then he was bound to this woman in ways he didn't understand and that what was between them was completely beyond his control. She had only to beckon and he would come to her, whether he wished to or not.
A tap on the office door made his eyes snap open. He removed his hands from Liisi's ankle, unsure how long he'd kept them there.
He cleared his throat. "Who is it?"
"Toivi Lindenblatt."
"Please come in." He rose as a very pregnant dark- haired women waddled through the door.
"Oh, my poor Liisi," she said, stopping at the side of the cot. Are you badly hurt?"
"I do believe Dr. Deplacer has healed my sprained ankle," Liisi said, smiling at her friend. "We are fortunate he came here to take care of us."
Mrs. Lindenblatt laid a hand on her distended abdomen. "Yes, I know."
Nick wondered if there was a midwife available or if he'd be expected to deliver her baby when the time came. Though he'd helped several of the Lac Belle slave women through childbirth, he was by no means accomplished.
"See, doctor, the swelling is gone," Liisi said, drawing his attention to her ankle.
His fingers confirmed what his eyes had trouble believing. The ankle appeared entirely normal.
"And it no longer pains me," she added.
"You ought to stay off that foot for a day or two,"
he cautioned. Realizing she needed to put her stocking back on, he smiled at both the women and went to the door. "I'll wait in the hall," he said.
A few minutes later Liisi emerged from the office, walking easily, using her left leg without any apparent pain. "What is your fee, Dr. Deplacer?" she asked.
He wanted to say there was no fee, not for her, ever, but, mindful of Mrs. Lindenblatt behind her, he did not. Recalling Dr. Kellogg's modest charges, he named a low amount. "One dollar."
"Oh, but you cured my sprained ankle," she protested.
"I owe you much more."
"Perhaps it wasn't a true sprain," he said. "I really did very little except examine your ankle."
Her gray eyes met his, telling him without words that he'd done much, much more. "I will see that you are paid," she murmured and he knew she meant more than the dollar he'd set as his fee.
He watched her leave through the open front door. She walked with her head held high, like a princess. Even her soiled gown didn't detract from her graceful bearing. He could hardly wait until their next meeting.
"You in trouble," Mima said from behind him. "She done voodoo you."
Her words brought him back to reality. What Liisi might or might not have done wasn't the trouble. He was the problem. Or, rather, the beast was. He'd seen the pentacle on Liisi's palm and the full moon was but a few days away.
He had to make damn sure the beast would have no chance to get at Liisi.
The only one who could help him was Mima. Though it was a terrible burden to place on her child's shoulders, he had no choice.
"Mima," he said, "come with me."
In the back yard, she followed him through a slanted outside door down into a root cellar dug under part of the house. The only light in the cool and dank enclosure came from the open door.
"You know what I am," he
said. "You saw me change at Lac Belle."
She nodded.
"I'm counting on you to help prevent me from changing during this coming full moon."
Mima waited to hear what he wanted done, her dark eyes steady, not showing a trace of fear.
He told her how he meant to reinforce the door and how she was to lock him inside for five nights, not letting him out, no matter what, until daylight and even then not before he answered a question.
"Your questions can be about our trip up the river," he said. "Anything we both know. Make certain I answer correctly, that my voice sounds like a man's. If anyone comes to the house at night and wants to know where I am, tell them I've gone into Monroe and won't be back until noon. Do you understand?"
"I be doing what you tell me."
"No one must see you let me out. No one."
"Me, I don't let them. I say I be helping you and that's what I be doing. Only--" she paused.
"Only what?" he said finally.
"Lady in white, she shine like you. Maybe she know."
He raised his eyebrows. "Shine? What do you mean?" "Most people, they don't shine. You be shiny all
over like when the sun, he shine on the lake. Lady in white, she shine just like you."
He lifted Mima into his arms and hugged her. "You shine, too, did you know that?"
She stared at him. "Me?"
"When I look at you I see a blue sparkle all around you. As you said, most people don't have it. And you're right, Liisi Waisenen sparkles, too."
"Lady, do she see me shine?" Mima asked, her voice fearful.
Nick set her back on her feet and looked down at her thoughtfully. "I suspect she does. And me, too. But that doesn't mean she knows about my changing or your foreseeing." Mima caught his hand. "She bring trouble."
Remembering the pentacle, Nick nodded. "I'm afraid so. But it's not her fault."
Mima's doubtful face told him she didn't agree.
"I'll start working on the cellar door before I do anything else," he said grimly.
But he had to wait. Between the merely curious and those with genuine ailments, it seemed to Nick that most of the population of Nogadata came by the house before sunset. He didn't dare be caught reinforcing the door lest he set someone to wondering why, so he had little chance to work on it.
Not all the townsfolk dropped by empty handed. Mrs. Zweig, heading a delegation of four matrons, arrived in the late afternoon. "We bring food to welcome you," she announced. smiling archly.
She directed the placing of a cake, a platter of cold ham, a plate of fried rabbit, a bowl of succotash and a loaf of freshly baked bread on the new dining room table, all the while eyeing Mima dubiously. "Your slave girl don't look too strong," she added.
"Mima's free, she's not a slave," Nick said. "And she's quite capable."
"It's a shame she's dressed like a boy," Mrs. Zweig went on. "I'll bring over one or two of my daughter's outgrown dresses."
Since he was renting the house from her husband, Nick took care not to show his urgent wish she and her friends would leave so he could get on with the door.
"Thank you," he told her. "I haven't had time to buy Mima proper clothes."
The arrival of a bearded old man with a swollen, abscessed and very smelly leg routed the women. Nick treated the man, Zeke McMasters, as best he could in his under- equipped office.
"You have to keep your leg clean," Nick told Zeke.
"Wash it every morning."
Zeke fingered his tobacco-stained white beard as he stared at Nick. "Wash me leg every day?" he asked incredulously.
"Every day," Nick repeated. "And make sure you use clean water each time."
"Hell, I don't wash meself more'n once a month."
"The rest of you doesn't matter. The leg does. If you don't keep it clean the leg will get worse. And don't put on dirty pants over the clean leg."
"Wash me pants, too? Man, for a doctor you sure got some quare idees." Zeke left, shaking his head.
He was followed by a woman bringing in her young son with a felon at the tip of his right forefinger. The boy screamed when Nick lanced the pus-filled sore but his sobs subsided as Nick coaxed him to watch the yellow matter drain from the open wound.
"It won't hurt so much now," Nick assured him. "But you have to soak your hand in warm water with a pinch of salt in it for a half hour every morning and every night for a week or the felon might come back. You wouldn't want to go through this again, would you?"
The boy shook his head, fascinated with the oozing pus. "Yuck," he said, grimacing.
Turning to the mother, Nick tried to impress on her to throw out the used water after each soaking. "Warm fresh water every time," he finished.
Dr. Kellogg had taught him about the soaking. "All you're trying to do is keep the part clean," the doctor had said. "But unless you mystify it a bit, they don't listen.
A pinch of salt doesn't do any harm, neither does the soaking. Make the soak twice as long and twice as many times as is really needed so at least they'll do it once in awhile."
Nick thought now he probably should have insisted Zeke soak his leg, though he suspected the old man might find that treatment just as "quare."
There was a respite after the boy and his mother left. Nick grabbed several pieces of rabbit to eat as he hurried out back to work on reinforcing the cellar door. The ladies of the town, he found, were good cooks.
During the next few days he was kept so busy he didn't finish putting the heavy wooden bar and the chained lock on the door until late in the afternoon of the first of the five dangerous nights of the moon cycle.
Sunset, he'd discovered, came later in Michigan than in New Orleans and twilight lingered longer. Since he feared the rising of the moon, he didn't dare wait until true darkness before Mima locked him in.
"It's time," he told her. He removed the soiled piece of canvas he'd placed over the cellar door to hide the chain and lock and to shut out any glimmer of moonlight. "Remember to put this back," he cautioned.
"Me, I don't forget what you say," she assured him solemnly.
Nick descended the few steps carved into the earth and eased the door closed after him. "Lock it," he called to Mima.
The thud of the bar settling into its slot, the rattle of the chain and the click of the key told him she'd obeyed. He sat Indian fashion on the blanket he'd laid over the dirt floor and stared into the darkness. God help him and the townsfolk if he changed and the cellar failed to hold him.
He couldn't bring himself to think about what Liisi's fate would be.
He'd once thought of poor Esperanza as a fairy-tale princess in her white nightgown. But Liisi was a truer image of those golden-haired beauties in the tales he remembered. Regal, lovely and unattainable. He hadn't seen her since she'd walked from his office but Lindenblatt had told him the ankle didn't bother her at all.
He'd healed it, but not alone. The combining of his energy with Liisi's had healed her sprain. He'd never forget the thrill of how her energy had caressed him in a way he'd never dreamed possible. Yet he was half-afraid to meet her again. Was she afraid, too? What did she see when she looked at him? Merely the shine Mima saw or the dark and dangerous beast within?
Restlessness overtook him, driving him to his feet. He rolled up the blanket, set it to one side and began to pace the small confines of the root cellar, the dank scent of mold filling his nostrils.
I will not change, he vowed. I must not. Each time I've seen a pentacle, that person has died. Killed by the beast. Liisi must not die. She will not die!
A sound from above startled Nick awake. He sat up
in darkness, hard ground underneath him.
"We get on a boat in New Orleans." Mima's voice came came faintly to him. "What be the name?"
"The boat was called River Lady," he said, raising his voice.
He heard a scuffling sound and narrow strips of daylight filtered into the cellar. Mima had removed the canvas. The lock clicked, the chain rat
tled. The bar thumped open. "Stand clear," Nick said. He climbed onto the lowest step and reached overhead, pushing against the door, opening it as he climbed from the root cellar into the bright morning sun.
He smiled at Mima and she smiled back, reaching for his hand. "You be you," she said happily.
The next three nights passed in much the same way and, as on the first night, no one came looking for the doctor so Mima wasn't forced to lie about his whereabouts.
When Nick came up into the muggy dawn of the fifth day he was relieved to think he had only one more night of this moon cycle to spend locked in the damn root cellar. He hated being caged. The cellar at Lac Belle had been bad enough but this one was even smaller and much dirtier.
Already he dreaded next month's imprisonment but how else could he keep the beast from harming others? Just as the locks kept him caged, the darkness had kept the beast caged inside him.
The late August sun beat down mercilessly and by noon the heat was so oppressive that Nick, standing with Mima on the front porch, found it an effort to move. There was no hint of a breeze, not a leaf stirred, not a pine needle quivered. He looked longingly at the nearby woods where shadows under the trees teased him with their promise of coolness.
So far today no one had needed his services. Too hot to be sick, he thought. His gaze was drawn, as always, to the brown shingled Lindenblatt house across and down the street from his. He hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of Liisi since he'd treated her ankle and the more time that passed, the stronger his need to see her again became.
If he dropped by the Lindenblatt's now, would she welcome his visit?
"You be thinking about her," Mima said from beside him. "What makes you say that?" he demanded, annoyed because she'd guessed correctly.
"You look like Andre when he see Lilette, like you be a hungry man."
He slid a glance her way. Still barefoot, Mima wore a calico print dress in blues and greens, a gift from from Mrs. Zweig, somewhat faded but in much better condition that the rag of a dress she'd brought from Le Noir.
Hot as it was, he envied her bare feet but his conscience smote him. Why hadn't he gotten around to buying her the clothes she needed? Instead of mooning over a woman he didn't dare approach, he ought to be thinking of Mima, the only person in the world beside Dr. Kellogg he could trust. God knows he couldn't survive without her.
