The Healer

by Sharon Sala

  At his touch, the dog shuddered, then licked Jonah’s hands and quieted, as if Jonah’s touch had become a welcome anesthetic.

  “Hang with me, boy,” Jonah said softly. “I’ll get you out.”

  He paused only long enough to get a solid grip on either side of the trap. As he did, he was swamped by emotions he didn’t understand. Whoever had set this trap was awash in evil and rage. But there was no time to think about that now. Jonah shook off the feelings and began to pull.

  Within seconds, Luce had caught up. Her voice was shaking as she dropped down beside them. She didn’t know how to explain why Hobo, who shunned everyone but her, was lying so still. She had fully expected him to fight the stranger every step of the way. Yet here he was, immobile beneath Jonah’s touch.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Find something to wedge into the trap…something big,” Jonah said.

  Luce didn’t hesitate. With the coppery scent of blood in her nose, she jumped to her feet, scrambled around beneath the trees and quickly found a large chunk of a fallen branch.

  “Will this do?”

  Jonah was strong, but the trap was strong, too. And the teeth that had bitten into the dog’s leg were now cutting into him. Ignoring the pain, he caught a glimpse of the branch from the corner of his eye.

  “Yes! Come closer and, when I tell you, shove it in the gap.”

  Luce shifted her stance and bent slightly, until the branch was only inches from the trap.

  Jonah took a deep breath and then gave it all he had, pulling with every muscle in his body until the teeth parted from the dog’s leg.

  “Now!” he cried.

  The metal dug into his fingers, shredding flesh and sinew all the way to the bone. The rough bark of the branch that Luce shoved past his fingers added insult to injury, but he held his ground. The moment the branch was in place, he let go of the trap and pulled the dog free.

  “I’ve got him!” Jonah said.

  With the branch still in the trap, Luce shoved it aside. Within seconds, the teeth cut through the pulpy wood and snapped shut with a loud, deadly clap. Splinters and bark flew as the branch flopped to the side.

  Luce ducked. Then she saw Jonah’s wounds.

  “Oh my God…oh no…your fingers…you’re bleeding,” she cried, and reached for his hands.

  “No…I’m all right,” Jonah said, and closed his fingers into fists.

  “But the blood…”

  Luce felt the air shift around them. Somewhere on a nearby ridge, a wolf suddenly howled, which was odd, because they never hunted in the day. Nervously, she looked over her shoulder. They didn’t need a confrontation with wild animals with Hobo unable to protect himself.

  When she looked back, Jonah was opening his hands. The flesh that had been torn was once again brown and smooth. She was still trying to make sense of that when he leaned down and ran his fingers over Hobo’s leg. Huge splinters of bone had pushed through the big dog’s flesh, while blood continued to pour from the wounds.

  Luce was sick to her stomach. And scared—as scared as she’d been in years. Hobo was all she had left in this world, and she couldn’t imagine her life without him.

  The dog whined as she laid her hand on his head. The blood showed no sign of coagulating, and his eyes were glassy from shock and pain, yet he lay completely immobile beneath the stranger’s touch.

  “His leg…” Luce whispered.

  Jonah glanced up at her.

  Breath caught at the back of Luce’s throat. The man’s eyes were glittering, his nostrils flared. For a fraction of a second she felt as if she were staring into the eyes of a wild animal instead of a man. Then he looked away and everything stopped.

  The forest went silent, and the air, which had been chilled and sharp, suddenly felt too thick and heavy to breathe. She saw the man cover the wound with his hands. As he did, the ground on which they were sitting began to tremble. She was still holding Hobo when a heat-filled current hit the palm of her hand, then shot up her arm.

  Startled, she gasped.

  The moment Jonah heard her, he realized that the energy coming from him was flowing up and into her, too. He lifted his left hand only long enough to give her a quick push.

  Startled by the blow, she fell onto her back, held motionless by a force she couldn’t see.

  Above her, the branches of the nearly leafless trees seemed to be vibrating, and she felt the ground beneath her begin to quake harder. As she watched, an aura of light suddenly enveloped Jonah, then spread to Hobo like water running over an outcropping of rock. Swamped by an overwhelming urge to crawl into that light and lie down beneath his touch, she found, instead, that she couldn’t move. She wanted to watch, but she couldn’t keep herself awake. She had no idea how much time had passed; when she opened her eyes, Hobo was standing at the edge of the creek drinking water, and Jonah was a few feet downstream, washing the blood from his hands.

  “Hobo!” she cried, and jumped to her feet.

  The dog turned at the sound of her voice and then licked her face as she knelt beside him. She couldn’t believe it!

  “What did you do? Oh, my God…oh, my God! His leg! It’s…it’s…” She rocked back on her heels and stared up at Jonah. “How did you do that?” she cried, as she ran her hands up and down the length of Hobo’s leg. The brown-and-white fur was bloody, but the limbs were sound. It didn’t make sense.

  Jonah stood above her with water dripping from his hands. He’d learned the hard way that trying to explain never worked. He answered, even though he knew she wasn’t going to like it.

  “I healed him,” he said, and wiped his hands on the legs of his pants, before picking up his jacket and putting it back on.

  Luce stared at him with an expression of disbelief.

  Jonah knew the look, and knew what came with it. He sighed, curious as to how the woman was going to make her mind accept what she’d seen.

  Luce heard what he said, but it didn’t make any sense. Had she just fallen into some alternate universe?

  “No. No. You didn’t just swab on antiseptic and set broken bones. You put that leg back together as if it never happened. That’s impossible.”

  The corner of Jonah’s mouth twitched as he stifled a smile.

  “If it’s impossible, then I guess it didn’t happen.”

  Luce frowned. “But—”

  “Why question what you saw, when the results are what was needed?”

  Luce shuddered. The man’s voice was soft, his words persuasive. She’d already been living in fear for the past five months, and trusting a stranger wasn’t easy. But now that she’d seen what he’d done, it was disbelief that made her keep her distance. If he could do that, God only knows what else he was capable of.

  Before she could answer him, a small brown bird came down out of a tree and landed on his shoulders. The sight was so unexpected that Luce forgot what she’d been going to say. She pointed.

  “Uh…there’s a, uh…it’s just—”

  Jonah turned and looked at the bird, cocked his head sideways, then looked back at Luce.

  “He says you have a good heart. He also says you feed him bread crumbs, and that the whole-wheat ones are his favorite.”

  Luce staggered backward, tripped on the sprung trap and the broken limb, and sat down with a thump.

  Jonah rushed over to help her up.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, as he offered her a hand.

  Luce stared at his fingers, then up at him. His face mirrored concern. The little bird that had lit on his shoulder was gone. Hobo was licking her face in consternation. She wondered if this was how Alice had felt when she’d fallen down the rabbit hole.

  “Get back, both of you,” Luce muttered, as she rolled over and got up by herself, then dusted the leaves and dirt from the seat of her pants.

  The man was still watching her. She couldn’t decide if the look in his eyes was friendly or feral. Either way, he gave her the creeps. Then she looked at Hobo.
The big brown-and-white mutt was sound and whole, and her world was back on track. She put her hands on her hips and looked back at Jonah.

  “What did you say your name was?” she asked.

  “Jonah. Gray Wolf. What’s your name, little warrior?”

  Luce flushed. “Lucia Maria Andahar, but people call me Luce.”

  She pronounced her name the way someone would say the word loose, but Jonah suspected there was nothing loose about her. Everything about her, from the way she held herself to the rigid set of her lips, was coiled tighter than a bedspring.

  She fingered the St. Christopher medal hanging from an old chain around her neck without taking her gaze from his face. It was the first time that she’d taken a really good look at him. His features were strong and even. His skin was dark like hers, but she thought he was Native American and not Latino. At the moment, his mouth was slightly curved, as if he were stifling the urge to smile. His eyes, which had seemed frightening earlier, were now a soft amber color, and his expression never wavered. But there was that thing he’d done—making a horrible wound completely disappear.

  Then, suddenly, she thought she knew.

  “You’re an angel…aren’t you?”

  Jonah smiled. “That’s a first.”

  Luce frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

  His voice was soft, but his smile disappeared. “I’m not an angel. I’m not from heaven.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m not from anywhere.”

  “Then how did you do that?” Luce asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jonah said, and then he looked around for his backpack. When he saw it, he picked it up and slung it over his shoulder.

  “You’re leaving now?” Luce asked.

  Jonah paused. “You don’t need me anymore.”

  Something inside Luce protested. Whether it was a premonition or a warning, she knew that if she never saw this man again, it would be a loss from which she would never recover.

  She glanced up. This late in the year, evenings were short. The sun was already riding the western sky and sliding down behind the trees under which they were standing.

  “It will be dark before you can get back into town.”

  “I sleep in the dark every night,” Jonah said softly.

  Luce shuffled nervously, then let out an audible sigh.

  “Look. I don’t know why I’m saying this, because every instinct I have is telling me to let you walk away.”

  Jonah’s heart skipped a beat. He knew what she was going to say. He saw into the years and what could be with them. The issue was, should he stay and risk her safety, or leave and risk his heart? He waited. It had to be her call.

  When Luce looked into his eyes, she lost focus and fell into what she thought later was a dream. She saw them together, in life and in bed. She saw laughter and tears, and then, out of nowhere, felt danger. She blinked, and the moment was gone.

  Jonah was surprised by his own feeling of despair when she stayed silent. He nodded at her once, as if accepting her decision, and turned away.

  “Wait!” Luce cried.

  Jonah looked back.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “Nowhere.”

  “What brought you here?”

  “Just looking for a job and a place to winter.”

  Luce felt panic, but she couldn’t stay silent as the inevitability of her words overcame her.

  “I might know of something,” she said. “But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to check on it. If you’re interested, I’m offering my home and a meal, and a warm place to sleep tonight.”

  It was more than he’d hoped for.

  “I’m interested,” he said softly.

  “Then follow me,” she said, and whistled to Hobo, who quickly moved to her side. She turned and began walking higher up the mountain, with the old dog at her side.

  Jonah fell in behind them. A few minutes later, they walked out of the trees and into a clearing.

  Luce paused, waiting for Jonah to catch up.

  “Here we are,” she said, pointing. “Home sweet home.”

  Jonah knew he was staring, but he’d never seen anything quite like it. There was a front door, and a small jutting roof with an accompanying porch that seemed to have been built into the face of the mountain. The path leading up to it was paved with flat pieces of natural rock, and there were small flower beds, now devoid of flowers, on either side of the steps.

  “This belongs to you?” he asked.

  “Lord no. I don’t own anything but the clothes on my back. Even Hobo is his own man. He stays with me because he chooses, not because I own him. This place belongs to Bridie Tuesday, an old woman who lives a bit farther up the mountain. She lets me live here, and in return, I help her out when I can. The rest of the time, I wait tables in the diner down in Little Top.”

  A gust of chilly wind swept through the clearing, causing Luce to shudder. “Let’s get inside and out of this wind.”

  She moved quickly, and moments later was at the door, then standing aside waiting for Jonah to enter.

  His first reaction to the house had been on target. Someone had built a house in a cave. But someone had also taken the trouble to partition off some rooms and lay a floor. The old floors were tongue-in-groove, worn smooth as glass by the passage of time. The only openings that let in natural light were the big windows on either side of the front door. There were candles and oil lamps sitting about the rooms, but when Luce flipped on a switch, he was surprised to see that the place was also wired for electricity.

  “Electricity?”

  “Even an electric water heater, running water and a propane tank, although the place is mostly heated by the old fireplace.”

  “This place is amazing,” he said.

  “It is, isn’t it? Bridie lived here with her husband for over thirty years before he built her a new house a bit farther up,” Luce said, then tried to get past the awkwardness of having a total stranger in her place by smiling shyly. “Follow me. I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

  She led the way out of the main room to a short passage that led to a pair of doors. She opened the one on the left, switched on another light and then stepped aside.

  Jonah stood for a few moments, feeling the confusion of her emotions, but he didn’t know what to say to make this any easier. Finally he moved past her and entered the room.

  There was an old metal bed against one wall, an aging armoire a few feet from the bed and a small table near the headboard. A handmade, multi-colored rag rug was on the floor, and a small stack of books sat on a shelf above the table.

  Luce shoved her hands in her pockets, then took them out and clasped them behind her instead, as she stepped just inside the doorway.

  “No one ever sleeps here, so the sheets are clean, even if they’re not fresh. If you get cold in the night, there’s an extra quilt in the armoire. Take your time getting settled. I’m going to start supper.”

  She had started to leave when Jonah reached for her, then stopped himself and spoke instead.

  “Thank you for this.”

  “I’ve been where you are…on the road, I mean. You helped me. I’m happy to return the favor. The bathroom is next door, if you want to clean up. There are a few extra towels and washcloths in your armoire. Make yourself at home.”

  Jonah started to say something, then seemed to think better of it and nodded briefly as Luce left. What else was there to say?

  He set his backpack on the floor near the armoire, dug out clean clothes, got a towel and washcloth, and headed for the bathroom.

  The room was small, but the old claw-footed tub was long and deep. Just the thought of a good long soak had him hurrying to strip off his clothes. Within minutes, he was chest-deep in the tub, with his eyes closed, savoring the warmth and the clean scent of Luce Andahar’s soap.

  He wondered about her, how she’d come to be in this place and alone in the world, then shifted his focus to the task at hand and began scru
bbing himself clean.

  Once he’d finished his bath, he used some of her shampoo. This was all such an unexpected luxury that he was reluctant to get out. But a warm meal was no farther away than the other side of the door, and it was a long time since he’d been invited to someone’s table. Hunger won out. Before he could talk himself into staying longer, he opened the drain and then stood up. He was reaching for a towel when Luce knocked on the door.

  “Supper will be ready in about five minutes,” she called.

  “I’ll be right there,” Jonah answered, and began drying off.

  Luce repeated the alphabet on the way back to the stove. It was all she could think of to do to keep her mind off the fact that there was a naked stranger on the other side of her bathroom door.

  As Jonah was dressing, he began smelling the aroma of the food she’d cooked. His belly growled, reminding him again of how long it had been since he’d eaten a real meal. He hung his wet towel and washcloth on pegs in the wall, then picked up his dirty clothes and dumped them in his room. He walked into the main room in his sock feet just as Luce was lifting a large pot from the stove.

  “Here, let me help,” he said, and took the pot and set it on the table. “If this tastes as good as it smells, I’m in heaven.”

  Luce was surprised at the spurt of pleasure his words gave her. It had been a long time since someone had praised her in any way without trying to get in her pants. Then she frowned. What made her think this man was any different? She’d brought him into her home without knowing a thing about him. Except…She glanced at Hobo, who was lying by the fireplace, and remembered what he’d done. A man like him—a man who held the promise of life in his hands—surely wouldn’t be a man who also caused harm. It had to be okay.

  “It’s just vegetable soup,” she said, and moved back to the oven to pull out a pan of cornbread.

  Jonah’s eyes widened. “Did you make all this yourself?”

  Luce nodded. “Sit. I’ll get the butter and honey.”

  Jonah sat, then closed his eyes momentarily, letting the warmth and the scents of her home and food envelop him. She’d asked him if he was an angel, but from where he was sitting, she was the one with wings. This place and this food were the closest thing to heaven that he’d known in years.