He nodded.
She put an arm under his shoulders, raising him to a sitting position. Lifting his nightshirt she put an ear to his back, listening as best she could to his lungs. He definitely had some congestion in his lower lobes but there was some air moving. She percussed his back. There was resonance in his upper lobes—as there should be—but it was decreased in the lower lobes. The only other abnormal finding she discovered on her assessment was that he seemed very dehydrated. He likely had pneumonia and in the twenty-first century this would be an easy fix. Intravenous fluids, antibiotics and respiratory therapy. She didn’t think his fever was dangerously high. As long as it wasn’t, she would do nothing to bring it down; it was one of the body’s defenses against infection. But there were things she could do to help him.
She looked at Laird and Lady MacLennan with as reassuring an expression as she could muster. “I believe I know a few things that could help.”
“Tell us, we’ll do whatever we need to,” said Lady MacLennan.
“Well first, we’ll need to remove the burning rosemary.”
“But it is to keep the evil humors away,” said the older woman who had been silent until now.
“I understand, but I’ve found that the smoke makes it harder for someone with a lung ailment to breath. Instead, I put a tiny bit of rosemary into water and have the person breath the steam. It seems to drive the evil humors away faster.”
“Does it?” asked the woman.
Yes, converting what they believed about illness to what she knew to be true might actually work. “Aye it does. In fact, if we concentrate the steam the lad breathes, he will soon start coughing up all of the evil phlegm. It is most important to get him coughing effectively.”
“How do we concentrate the steam,” asked the woman, truly interested.
“Well—I’m sorry, what is yer name?”
“Barabal.”
“Barabal is our healer,” explained Laird MacLennan.
“I’ll show ye. We need a kettle of hot water, a bit of rosemary, a large bowl and toweling. We also need to get him to drink as much as we can. An infusion of peppermint and honey will work well. We can add a sprig of rosemary too so it works from the inside out.”
“Really?” Thankfully, Barabal seemed fascinated instead of threatened.
“Do ye believe this can work, Barabal?” asked Laird MacLennan.
“Laird, nothing else has worked. I cannot see that it will do any harm at all.”
“Then please, see that Elsie has what she needs.”
“Aye, Laird. Excuse me for a moment while I send someone to fetch everything.” She bobbed a curtsy and left the room.
Laird MacLennan turned his attention to his wife. “Now, Maeve, please come with me. Ye need to rest or ye’ll fall ill yerself.”
“I will not leave my child! I have told ye that over and over.” She snapped at her husband.
It was clear to Elizabeth that Maeve did need rest but she also knew the worried mother couldn’t be forced to leave.
“Pardon me, my lady, Laird, perhaps I could offer a suggestion. My lady, I agree that ye look exhausted and could fall ill yerself. But I also know ye can’t leave yer child and I think he would want ye here. Perhaps ye could just lie on the other side of the bed and rest a bit. I will be right here and I’ll wake ye for the smallest thing.”
“Ye swear?” Maeve asked.
“I swear, my lady.”
“Ye’ll stay, Revelin? While I rest?”
“Of course, my darling.”
Maeve nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. “All right. I’ll rest a little while.”
Laird MacLennan gave a sigh of profound relief. He walked with Maeve to the other side of the bed and sat in a chair next to her as she closed her eyes.
Elizabeth dumped all of the burning herbs into the hearth. If the weather wasn’t so awful, she would have opened the shuttered windows. But the room was drafty enough that the smoke cleared fairly quickly anyway.
When Barabal returned, Elizabeth filled the bowl with steaming water and a sprig of rosemary. As far as Elizabeth knew, the rosemary had no therapeutic value—but it didn’t hurt and it satisfied their medieval sensibilities.
Elizabeth lifted Kelvin from the bed and holding him on her lap draped the towel over the bowl and both their heads.
“Oh, I see,” said Barabal. “The towel holds the steam in a bit.”
“Aye, but we have to keep replacing the hot water to keep it steaming.”
“It smells good,” said Kelvin.
Elizabeth smiled. “Well, little man, if ye think this smells good, ye need to taste the lovely drink we’ve made for ye.”
She spent the next few hours doing everything she could do—with what she had to hand—to loosen the congestion and help Kelvin start coughing it up. Both Barabal and Laird MacLennan assisted, doing whatever Elizabeth asked. Finally Kelvin was able to take deep breaths and give a nice strong cough, bringing up phlegm. While it was a greenish yellow color, Elizabeth was thrilled that it wasn’t rusty or tinged with blood.
Barabal was amazed that it had worked. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“He needs to rest for a while, but we can keep the bowl of steaming water near the head of his bed. It will still help.”
“Elsie, I don’t know how to thank ye,” said Laird MacLennan.
“Laird, he isn’t out of the woods yet. But if we keep doing what we’ve been doing, I think we will be able to bring him through this. Now, both of ye need to rest a bit, while Kelvin does. I’ll stay awake with him and wake ye if anything changes.”
It was a mark of how tired they both were that they agreed. Laird MacLennan, gently moved Maeve towards the middle of the bed and laid next to her, on the edge of the bed. Barabal made a pallet of blankets and laid on the floor not far from the hearth.
Elizabeth sat in a chair next to Kelvin. She had been so focused on her little patient and his parents, this was the first opportunity she’d had to think about her predicament since she had ridden through the gates with Cade.
Gertrude’s words floated to her: There was a time when doctors, healers and midwives experienced exactly what ye say ye want. They knew their patients and spent time with them. When they brought a new babe into the world they could rejoice with the family. When a life was tragically lost, they could mourn. They experienced the full spectrum of human emotion and existence and helped their neighbors through it.
Elizabeth smiled to herself. She had told Gertrude she wanted this and she couldn’t deny that it was fulfilling.
Gertrude.
Elizabeth tried again to remember what had happened after the airplane. I had to get into the city. I must have taken a cab. That was it! She remembered standing in line for a cab at the airport…it was freezing cold…and snowing. The cab had been toasty warm. Elizabeth tried to picture getting out of the cab at the hotel, but she simply couldn’t.
Go back to something you do remember. She walked herself through the previous night on duty. It was a bit of a blur but nights on call were seldom memorable. On the other hand, every moment of the unpleasant brunch she’d had with David was crystal clear. Even the details of her slide presentation were sharp but all she remembered after the airport was getting into the warm cab and looking at the pocket watch.
The pocket watch. It was supposed to be with her. She felt for pockets in her clothing and found none. She checked her mantle which hung over the back of her chair but it didn’t have pockets either. Perhaps it was in the bundle of Elsie’s belongings which Cade had tied to Edda’s saddle, but at the moment she didn’t know where that was. Finding the watch would have to wait a little longer.
Kelvin stirred in his sleep, drawing Elizabeth’s attention back to her patient. He woke needing to use the chamber pot. That at least meant he was beginning to rehydrate. She had him drink more of the mint tisane, then sat with him under the makeshift steam tent.
Elizabeth heard movement behind her
. Lady MacLennan had awakened. While she didn’t look fully refreshed, the rest had clearly done wonders. “How is he?” she asked tentatively.
“The congestion is clearing.”
“And the fever?”
“He still has a fever, but he isn’t terribly hot. As long as the fever isn’t too high and he drinks a lot, it…well,” how was she going to say this? “…I’ve heard it helps burn off the bad humors. It’s only a problem if it burns very hot.”
“Mama, this smells nice,” Kelvin said from under the towel.
“Does it sweetling?” Lady MacLennan smiled at Elsie. “Would ye like for me to hold him for a while?”
Elizabeth nodded. “That’s a very good idea.” She put Kelvin on Lady MacLennan’s lap and showed her how to make the steam tent.
After the lad had breathed the steam for a while, Elizabeth said, “Now, little man, show yer mama the proper way to breathe deep and cough.”
He smiled. “Ye do it like this mama.” He breathed in and out deeply and after the third breath in, he gave one strong cough, clearing more phlegm.
Elizabeth smiled at him. “Well done. Now do that several times and have a little more to drink, then I want ye to rest again.”
When they had him tucked into bed, Lady MacLennan sat next to him, rubbing his back lightly until he fell asleep. When she looked up at Elizabeth, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Thank ye, Elsie.”
“Ye’re very welcome, my lady. He isn’t completely better, and it may be a while before he is, but I think things are moving in the right direction.”
“I think so too. I was so frightened, but now…well…I believe he’ll be all right.” As if really seeing Elizabeth for the first time, her brows furrowed. “Oh my, ye’re just a lass.”
Elizabeth smiled and gave the answer she knew she would likely have to give over and over again, “I’ve been studying the healing arts for over eight years now and have learned quite a lot.”
Lady MacLennan smiled. “It seems ye have.”
Elizabeth’s stomach took that moment to growl loudly.
“Oh, my dear, Revelin brought ye straight up here when ye arrived. I’ll warrant ye’ve had nothing to eat since midday yesterday.”
“Ye needn’t worry about me, my lady.”
“Nay, ye need to eat and have a wee rest too. I’ll wake Barabal—”
“Oh, please don’t do that. She’s as exhausted as ye and the laird. Let her rest. I’ll be fine.”
Lady MacLennan grew stern in a motherly sort of way. “I appreciate yer thoughtfulness but ye must eat. Go down the stairs and out the back of the great hall. Ye’ll see the kitchens. It won’t be long until sunup. Someone will be there soon if they aren’t already. Tell them I sent ye.”
Elizabeth’s stomach growled again. Lady MacLennan gave her a don’t-even-think-about-telling-me-ye-aren’t-hungry look.
Elizabeth smiled. “Aye, my lady. Thank ye. I’ll find the kitchen. I am a bit hungry.”
Elizabeth started towards the chamber door, when Lady MacLennan stopped her. “Lass, ye’ll need a candle to see yer way to the hall and I expect ye’ll want yer mantle. ‘Tis a bitter night and without it ye’ll chill even on the short walk to the kitchen.”
Walk to the kitchen? It must be outside the keep. “Aye, my lady.” Elizabeth left, taking her cloak and one of the candles from the mantel. Okay, creeping around a medieval a castle, in the dark, with only a candle is a little spooky. She did manage to find the stairs that Laird MacLennan had brought her up. When she reached the great hall, she was surprised to see people sleeping on the floor. She moved to the back of the hall as quietly as she could to avoid waking anyone before slipping through the back door. The wind instantly extinguished her candle. Snow had fallen all night, accumulating about eight inches. A path had been worn in the snow to a building just beyond the keep. That must be the kitchen. When she reached the building she knocked hesitantly and listened.
“Come in,” a voice called.
She pushed the door open. An elderly woman stood stirring a pot over the hearth.
“Pardon me. Lady MacLennan said I should find something to eat. I came with the MacKenzies. My name is Elsie.”
“I know who ye are lass,” the elderly woman turned around.
“Gertrude?”
“Aye, lass.”
“What are ye doing here?”
“We have a few things to discuss, but Lady MacLennan was right, ye need fed. I’ve made some porridge. Sit here with me and eat while we talk.”
Stunned, she sat as Gertrude ladled up a bowl of porridge, poured a liberal amount of honey and cream into it and placed it on the table in front of Elizabeth.
“Is this yer home? Is this why ye sent me here—wherever or whenever here is? To save that lad?”
“Nay lass, this isn’t my home—I told ye, I am a citizen of the universe. But, I have friends everywhere. Ye’re at Brathanead keep—it’s in the Scottish Highlands northwest of Inverness—and ‘tis the year of our Lord, twelve-hundred and seventy-nine.”
“Twelve-seventy-nine? Are ye serious?”
Gertrude chuckled. “Absolutely serious. I assure ye, sweetling, the one thing I’m very good at is telling time.”
“So, was it my purpose to save the lad? And if this isn’t yer home what are ye doing here?”
“I know Peg, the cook here, and I’m sure she won’t mind me whipping up a bit of porridge for ye. As for saving the lad—and rest assured, ye did save him—that was simply an added benefit.”
“Can I go home now?”
“Not yet.”
“But ye said I could go back anytime, I just had to say the word.”
Gertrude arched a brow at her. “And what is the word?”
“I…I don’t know. I can’t remember what happened after I got into the cab.”
“Aye, well, that’s a problem. But the bigger problem is that ye don’t have the watch.”
“Well, not on me. I thought it might be in my bundle of things.”
“It isn’t, lass.”
“How do ye know?”
“Because it didn’t come with ye.”
“But ye said it would.”
“And normally it would have. But it didn’t.”
“What happened?”
“Several things actually. Ye say ye remember getting into the cab?”
“Aye.”
“Do ye remember having the watch in yer hand in the cab?”
“Vaguely, aye.”
“Well, several cars ahead of ye were in an accident. Yer driver avoided it, but other cars crashed into the cab. Ye hit yer head and lost consciousness. Thus, strictly speaking, ye fell asleep. Ye must have dropped the watch as it was happening, because the soul exchange occurred, but the watch stayed in the future.”
“Then if I didn’t tell it a word, as I should have before falling asleep—which, by the way, I’m not sure I agree that losing consciousness constitutes falling asleep—how will I get home?”
Gertrude chuckled. “The watch makes the rules, not medical science. As far as it was concerned ye fell asleep and whatever word ye said last is the return word.”
“But I don’t know what that was. Ye said I hit my head? That must be why I’m having trouble remembering.”
“I expect it is. At the moment, yer body, and Elsie’s soul are at NYU hospital center.”
“How is that possible? Ye said a second would pass for every day I was in the past. I haven’t even been here twenty four hours. My body should still be in the cab.”
“As I said, things didn’t happen quite the way they normally do. Time has become equal.”
“What does that mean?”
“One day here, is one day there. Time is equal in both places. I don’t believe that has ever happened before. It might be simply because the watch stayed in the future.”
“Ye said I’m at NYU. There’s a trauma center there…was I seriously injured?”
“Not as bad others in that p
ile-up. A broken arm, a couple broken ribs and a few lacerations. The biggest problem is yer head injury. There seems to be no serious damage, but ye haven’t awakened yet. For the moment that’s a good thing. Ye—or Elsie, I should say—won’t awaken until I am there with her. She will need help understanding what’s happened.”
“I’ll say she will. Poor lass. She’ll be all right?”
“Aye, she will. I’ll make certain of that.”
Elizabeth wasn’t sure why she was confident in Gertrude’s assessment, but she was. “Ye said several things went wrong.”
“Now, ‘wrong’ is a strong word. Several things didn’t go as they usually do.”
“Fine. Things are different. There was a wreck so I lost consciousness instead of going to sleep and the watch stayed in the future. Did anything else unexpected happen?”
“Well, ye don’t remember the word—but I expect ye will, given a bit of time.”
“But I don’t have the watch.”
“Nay, still that shouldn’t pose a huge problem. Once ye remember it, and Elsie wakes up, I can tell her. She’ll be able to say it when the time comes.”
“But why would she? Ye said she was destined to die.”
“Aye, well, that’s the other thing that didn’t happen in quite the normal way. Ye arrived here a bit early.”
“Why does it matter when I arrived?”
“For Elsie’s life to be over, she would’ve had to have made a choice that would lead to her death. In this case, ye’d have had to arrive after Elsie had been ordered to pretend to be a skilled midwife.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Did Laird Macrae threaten ye?”
“Aye, he said he’d have me beaten if I didn’t comply.”
“Well, Elsie would have chosen the beating. Her moral convictions would not have allowed her to lie to the MacKenzies about her abilities, or lack thereof. Sadly, that beating would ultimately have resulted in her death. But yer souls were exchanged before she knew what was happening—before she made her choice. So she did not set the events into motion. That may also be why time has become equal.”
The Midwife: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Page 5
