Native Tongue

Chapter Nineteen

Nazareth lay in the narrow hospital bed and waited for the doctors to appear. She was indifferent to the peeling paint on the walls, to the ancient metal beds, to the rows of strangers who shared this decaying ward with her; she was not used to either luxurious surroundings or to privacy. But she was not indifferent to the manner in which she was treated, the hostility that was the primary message whenever anyone spoke to her, no matter what the actual words used. It was cruel of the nurses to have spread the news to all the other patients that she was a linguist and subject her to that hostility — but they inevitably did it. How else were people to know? It was not as if her skin had been pale green, or as if linguists had horns to identify them to the unsuspecting public…

Once, years ago, she had been in the hospital to have her appendix removed. And because she was only a child, and still very naïve, she had asked the nurses specifically not to tell anyone she was a child of the Lines.

“Why not, Miss Chornyak? Are you ashamed of it?”

She had wanted to ask, “Aren’t you ashamed of your hard hearts?” But she had kept still, warned by the swift sting of their response. And of course the nurses had told the others not only that she was a linguist, but that she had asked them not to tell. Of course.

She understood all of this much better now. Doctors despised the nurses, but that was not the problem — doctors despised everyone except other doctors, and were trained to do so. But the public despised the nurses, too, and that was the problem. Nursing, Nazareth understood from the histories, had once been an admired calling; there were worlds on which it still was. Nurses had once been called “angels of mercy”… there had even been male nurses. But that was before so many of the nursing functions had been turned over to computers. Once the bedside computers, the healthies, had taken over all the record-keeping, all the decision-making not done by doctors, had begun dispensing all medications and injections automatically, the role of the nurse had gone rapidly downhill. And when the healthies were programmed to interact with the patients and provide even the words of comfort — words that the nurses unfortunately had thought they did not have time to provide — that was the end of the road of prestige.

Now nurses bathed patients, changed beds, fed the helpless, tended sores and wounds, disposed of wastes and other foul bodily excretions, saw to the cleansing of the dead… all the distasteful and unattractive things that are natural to sickness. It was a rare woman now who went into nursing for any reason other than that she needed the money badly, or that some male who had power over her felt that he needed the money. Thus the nurses despised themselves; it was no surprise to Nazareth that they took out on the patients the frustration that was their daily and nightly portion.

Nevertheless, it hurt her that they must add to their usual unpleasant behavior still one more dose of viciousness, just because she was a linguist. It hurt her not just physically — although that did hurt, because they were needlessly rough as they tended her — it hurt her simply because they were women. Women hurting other women… that was ugly. And it hurt her because they were deformed of spirit through no fault of their own and there was nothing whatsoever that she could do to help them.

The doctors would come when it pleased them, of course. They would stay for so long as it pleased them to stay, and leave when it pleased them to leave. She wanted badly to get up and walk in the hall, to distract her mind from the pain of her body, but she didn’t dare. Like washing windows to make it rain, if she left this bed for five minutes she could be certain that the doctors would make their rounds while she was away from the room; she stayed where she was, therefore, and went on waiting.

When they did come at last they were not in a good mood. She had no idea what had caused them to be so cross. Perhaps the stock market had “plunged”… it was forever “plunging.” Or perhaps a patient had dared to question something they chose to say or do. Or perhaps they had wanted pink eggs and hummingbird’s tentacles for breakfast. A doctor needed no reason for his irritation — irritation was his birthright, along with the title now reserved to him alone. No longer were there “doctors” of anthropology and physics and literature to offend the real doctors and confuse the public; they had put a stop to that, as they had put a stop to so many things that were unseemly and inappropriate.

“Mrs. Chornyak.”

“Adiness, doctors,” she corrected them. The smile that went with the words was not for them, but amusement at her own perversity… as if she took pride in bearing Aaron’s name! She had never once corrected any of the government staffers whose principles for system of address consisted entirely of the rule “a linguist is a linguist is a linguist” and called everyone of the lines by whatever name-of-a-linguist happened to be most familiar to them.

“Mrs. Adiness, then. Sorry.”

“Quite all right, doctors.”

“Any problems?”

“No,” she said. “But I have a question.”

They looked at one another, body-parling. WHY THE HELL DO WE HAVE TO PUT UP WITH THIS INSUFFERABLE BITCH? And one of them said, “Well? What is it?”

“Could I be discharged?” she asked.

“Your surgery was when?”

“Day before yesterday.”

“Pretty short time, isn’t it?”

“Laser surgery heals quickly.”

Body-parl again, MEDICAL OPINIONS, YET, FROM THIS USED-UP OLD PIECE… HELL OF A NERVE SHE’S GOT. Nazareth ignored it.

“You think you’re well enough to leave? Then by all means, leave.” The senior man in the pack leaned across her, jolting the bed; she would have gasped with pain except that she would have endured any pain rather than show weakness in front of these elegant specimens. He punched the DISCHARGE stud in the bedside computer, and when the questionmark came up he punched in ANY TIME TODAY.

“There you are,” he said, and off they went, telling her over their collective shoulders that if she had any other questions she could ask the nurses. And Nazareth knew that to be true. She could certainly ask the nurses questions. They wouldn’t answer them if it could possibly be avoided, but she was free to ask. It made no difference to her anyway, now that she had permission to leave.

The message went through to Clara’s wrist computer, and Clara went straight to Nazareth’s husband. It was luck that Aaron was still in the house; she caught him just leaving, and impatient to be on his way.

“She wants what?” he asked her crossly. “Do speak up, Clara.”

“She’s being discharged today, Aaron,” said Clara. “And she doesn’t want to come back here. Now that she is most assuredly and officially barren… she wants to go straight to Barren House from the hospital. For good.”

Aaron stopped then, his attention captured at last. “Isn’t that a little unusual?” he asked. “Irregular?”

“If you say so, Aaron.”

“You know very well what I mean,” Aaron snapped. “Wouldn’t the usual thing be for her to come back here and spend a few weeks lounging about indulging herself and then move over to Barren House?”

Clara could have told him of many women who had come back from illness or surgery and taken up their lives beside their husbands just as before, and who had remained honored in the Household until they were widowed because their husbands wanted them to remain. But she didn’t bother. Aaron was not capable of feeling as much affection for any human being as he felt for one of the dogs; and he was not capable of feeling any affection for a woman. Had he thought of his mother as anything more than part of the furniture? she wondered. Probably not. There were men like him everywhere, men who felt toward women the kind of ugly prejudice that had once been attached to racial differences… but Aaron was unquestionably the worst example she had ever known. It would be a waste of time to try to break through what Aaron felt toward the females of his species, and she had no time to waste.

“It’s up to you,” she told him. “And to Thomas, of course.”

“Hunnnh.” He stood there, scowling at her as if she had brought great trouble and worry upon him through sheer incompetence.

“What’s the procedure?” he demanded, finally. “Do I have to put it to Thomas formally, or what?”

“I’d recommend that, Aaron,” said Clara, carefully looking at the floor. Or what!

“Is he here?”

“He’s still in his office, I believe.”

“Damn, what a nuisance!”

“You can deal with it whenever it’s convenient for you,” said Clara coldly. “I’ll notify Nazareth to wait until you have time to attend to the matter.”

“Never mind,” he said. “I might as well get it settled, and then I’ll give you a message for Nazareth on my way out. Keep yourself within reach, would you?”

“Certainly.”

“I’ll get back to you, then.”

He turned and took the stairs down to the lower floors two at a time, while Clara watched him with the perfect hatred of long practice.

“So she’s to be discharged today?”

“So Clara tells me.”

“Isn’t that awfully quick?”

Aaron shrugged and smiled. “You know how she is. If she sets her mind to something, that’s the end of it.”

“Very like her mother.”

“No doubt.”

“And she wants to go straight to Barren House from the hospital rather than coming home?”

“Yes… wants the women to send her things on ahead. I suppose she’ll want her books sent, but I won’t permit that. She doesn’t need them with her, and I’m used to having them here.”

“Of course,” agreed Thomas. “Well… what do you want to do about this?”

“I say we should let her have her way,” said Aaron carelessly. “Why force her to come here if she’d rather not? She’s been through quite an ordeal… first the illness, then all that lasering and mauling about… if it would make her happy to go on to Barren House, why not let her?”

“You don’t mind, Aaron? Are you sure?”

The two men looked at each other, and knew they were thinking the same thing. IF SHE COMES BACK HERE, EVEN IF SHE SAYS NOTHING AT ALL ABOUT IT, SHE’LL BE A CONSTANT REPROACH. THE WOMEN WILL LOOK AT HER, AND THEY’LL LOOK AT US AND THEIR EYES WILL SAY “YOU STINGY CHEAP BASTARDS” EVEN IF THEY KEEP THEIR MOUTHS SHUT. THE WOMEN THINK WE SHOULD HAVE AUTHORIZED THE BREAST REGENERATIONS FOR HER… THEY WILL FIND A WAY TO CONSTANTLY REMIND US THAT THAT IS HOW THEY FEEL.

“I wouldn’t want to stand in her way at a time like this,” said Aaron solemnly. “It would be unkind, and unreasonable. I think — unless you have strong objections — that she should be humored in this. After all, she can still come here to see the children as often as she wishes… and her services continue to be available to the Household as always. Why cause her unnecessary distress?”

“You’re very logical about it,” Thomas observed. “I’m glad to see that.”

The room was quiet, both of them thinking, and then Aaron decided that there would be no better time than this moment, while Thomas was apparently pleased with him.

“Thomas,” he said, “Nazareth and I haven’t been very… happy… together.”

“Well… she was always odd. It’s not difficult to understand.”

“Do you suppose under the circumstances that — ” Aaron stopped, judiciously, as if the words were difficult for him to use.

“Well? That what?”

“How would you perceive the prospect of a divorce for us, Thomas? For Nazareth and me?”

The older man frowned, and his body went rigid; he made Aaron wait. And then he said, “We don’t approve of divorce, Adiness.”

“I’m aware of that, sir. I don’t approve of it myself, nor does my family.”

“It was all that divorcing and musical beds that damn near wrecked this country in the twentieth century,” Thomas stated with considerable fervor. “We’ve been a long time coming out of that, a long time returning life to its right and natural form… I’m not sure I care to contribute to holding back the progress of that change.”

Aaron spoke cautiously; it wouldn’t do to give Thomas the idea that he wasn’t for the American Way and the Sanctity of the Home and all the rest of it. Hell, he’d been to Homeroom, just like everybody else: he knew the drill.

“There is no law against divorce,” he pointed out.

“No. But it is mightily disapproved of. Ordinarily the public disapproves of it very strongly unless the woman in question has been institutionalized for life, or is a flagrant adultress… lord knows the closest poor Nazareth ever came to adultery was that idiot caper whispering into Jordan Shannontry’s ear. I’m afraid that’s not flagrant enough. I don’t think a divorce could be managed without a lot of public outcry… especially not in the present circumstances.”

“Sir, is this a matter of your own personal convictions, or is it a question to be settled on the basis of public reaction?”

“I do not approve of divorce!” Thomas snapped. “Where my personal opinions are concerned, a contract is a contract — and the marriage contract is as valid and binding as any other. Divorce, except in the most extreme cases, is nothing more than self-indulgence. This nation is under severe enough strain from the shocks of contact with the Alien civilizations, and the drive to settle the space colonies and bring them up to a decent living standard… it is crucially important that we preserve our cultural fabric and set it well above our personal convenience.”

Thomas was going to turn him down, Aaron thought. For the sake of the effing public and its little pointy heads. And the fact that Aaron would be condemned to spend the rest of his life with a woman so mutilated that no decent man could look at her without revulsion was not going to sway him. It was bitter, and he was not ready to accept it. Not quite yet.

“Well, sir,” he said, “I will of course abide by your decision. But I think you should know that I don’t think I could force myself to share your daughter’s bed now… not as she is now. And a man needs sexual release if he is to be useful to his Household… I’m certain that you know that as well as I do, Thomas.”

Ah. Thomas felt that, and he narrowed his eyes to consider its implications. This was a new factor in the equation. He was quite certain that no one in the Household, not even Rachel, suspected his relationship with Michaela Landry. He had been discreet to such a degree that he had almost suspected himself of a mild paranoia on the subject, and he knew there was no question about being able to trust Michaela. But Aaron had always been crafty, sly, given to meddling when he thought there was advantage for him… If he did suspect, and saw himself denied “sexual release” while Thomas dallied outside Rachel’s bed, he could make a lot of trouble and make it safely. However stodgy the American public of 2205 might be about divorce, it wasn’t a patch on their feelings about adultery. It was done, of course. In moderation, and with taste. But to be caught at it was unforgivable. How much did Adiness know?

The dark handsome eyes looked back at him, guileless and open — much too guileless and open for his tastes — and Thomas knew he could not be sure. What had he said? That he was certain Thomas knew of a man’s needs for sexual release as well as he did? No, he could not be sure.

The decision made, Thomas didn’t dawdle.

“Do you think,” he asked, “that you could do this with extreme delicacy?”

“Of course, Thomas.”

“And with the utmost degree of courtesy?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean that, for a change, you would treat Nazareth as if you valued her. I mean that you would speak to her courteously in public, that you would no longer make her the source of your reputation for clever conversation and delightful jokes — oh, I’m not a total fool, Adiness, however much I may refrain from meddling in the marital arrangements of others! And I mean that when you encountered Nazareth by chance before others you would defer to her as to a lady for whom you felt respect. I will not have it said that we first allowed her to be mutilated to such an extent that she was no longer acceptable to you, and then kicked her out of the Household brutally as a divorced woman, with no excuse but our economies! Surely you are capable of understanding that.”

“Indeed, sir — I understand precisely what you mean. And you can count on me.”

“I have your word as a gentleman?”

“Absolutely.”

Thomas steepled his fingers then, and peered at Aaron over the top of them.”

“In that case,” he said, “perhaps it would not be an entirely unacceptable idea. There’s a young girl in our dorms… her name is Perpetua. Have you noticed her, Aaron?”

He had. She was lovely. Thick brown hair, huge brown eyes, a body lush and promising, and a gentle manner that roused him every time she moved or spoke. Aaron had indeed noticed Perpetua, as had every other man in the Household.

“I may have,” he said.

“In about a year, Perpetua will be sixteen. And needing a husband. I’d like to keep her here, Aaron.”

“I see.”

“You would have been divorced a respectable length of time by her sixteenth birthday, or very soon thereafter… and Perpetua would make you a good wife. It would be a suitable alliance, in every sense of the word.”

The old fox, Aaron thought. He was going to make a trade of it. Aaron Adiness, at stud again for Chornyak Household — or no divorce. But he thought he could find considerable consolation in being sentenced to serve as stud for Perpetua. It would be the intervening year that would be difficult.

Thomas knew that, too.

“You would have to be quaintly beyond reproach during your year as a bachelor,” he said, measuring the words out. “Move into the bachelor rooms, be there in your bachelor bed every night without exception… I will not have it said that you divorced Nazareth simply to marry Perpetua.”

“It will be said no matter what I do, sir.”

“It’s one thing to have it said because people have small twisted minds; it’s quite another to have it said because you provide an excuse to say it.”

“You want my word again.”

“Indeed I do.”

A year of total celibacy… the prospect dismayed Aaron more than he had thought it would. But life with Nazareth meant permanent celibacy broken only by the occasional quick flutter on the sly… They would watch his every move, if he remained married to Nazareth; he’d be fortunate if he could find himself some draggled trollop once a year. Aaron shuddered; there were worse things than a year of monkhood.

“I swear it, Thomas,” he said swiftly. “I understand the conditions, and I’ll abide by them. To the letter.”

“Huhnh.” The sound was not pleasant, nor was the expression on his father-in-law’s face.

“I’ll know if you don’t,” said Thomas grimly. “And I’ll break you. If you deviate by so much as a wink, young man. The reputation of this Household, the reputation of the Lines, means infinitely more to me than any single member. The public already has reason enough to criticize about the manner in which we ‘send our females out to do men’s work,’ without adding scandal.”

Aaron put on the haughtiest expression he had in his repertoire.

“You have my word,” he repeated. “It should be sufficient.”

“I wonder.”

Aaron flushed, but he said nothing. There was nothing to say. Either the fellow would trust him or he wouldn’t, and there was nothing Aaron could do to influence him except sit there and allow himself to be as transparent as possible. He had nothing to hide, for once — he would abide by the conditions and consider that a reasonable price for freedom from Nazareth.

“All right, then,” said Thomas suddenly. “All right. I am not ordinarily disposed to see any excuse for divorce… but this is an unusual situation. And there’s some precedent — there was Belle-Anne. All right, Aaron; under these circumstances, and with your promise, I won’t oppose you.”

Aaron let out his breath, not realizing until he did so that he’d been holding it. It was a great relief. Too bad he couldn’t have had one more night in Nazareth’s bed before she’d gone off for the surgery, but it hadn’t occurred to him. As it hadn’t occurred to him that she wouldn’t insist on coming back here and making his life a hell just for the satisfaction of doing so — in her place, he certainly would have gloried in the chance for revenge. It was typically female that she was either too stupid or too cowardly to seize that chance. He found himself almost grateful to her; he was not a brilliant man, but he was not so foolish that he didn’t know how large an account of bitterness he’d run up with her in the years of their marriage. He’d had a lot of fun doing it, but he knew it hadn’t ever been any fun for Nazareth; like all women, she had no sense of humor whatsoever. Like being colorblind, or tonedeaf. A curious deformity.

And now he and Thomas had managed to bring off a very efficient little bit of action here. All in one swoop, they’d gotten rid of Nazareth and the annoying reminder she would have represented, they’d arranged to keep Aaron in the house and fathering more infants — something that would have been impossible otherwise — and they’d settled the matter of a suitable husband for the luscious Perpetua. Aaron knew that in spite of Thomas’ facade of objections he must be pleased; this was the sort of thing the man considered an efficient example of household management. He had been damn near smiling when he told Aaron to go ahead and notify the Chornyak attorneys. Aaron felt that they were damn clever, he and Thomas… he was only sorry that there was no way he could brag about this little coup.

Clara saw him come up the stairs from his meeting with her brother, and read the smug satisfaction on his face correctly, but she wasn’t quick enough with her “Aaron!” to stop him as he went rushing out the door. It was clear to her that the two men had been willing to let Nazareth do what she wanted: it was also clear that Aaron had forgotten all about the fact that his wife was waiting for the decision. Unless perhaps he, or Thomas, had sent her a message directly?

Thinking hard, she didn’t hear Michaela until her name had been spoken twice, and even then she jumped.

“You’re too tired, Clara,” Michaela observed. “You’re asleep on your feet.”

“No… I was just thinking. And worrying.”

“Can I help?”

Clara explained, and Michaela touched her hand lightly.

“I’m on my way to Mr. Chornyak’s office right now,” she said, “to ask him about a new medication for your father. If you want to come along with me, we could bother him together… safety in numbers and all that.”

“I’m not afraid to speak to him alone, my dear,” Clara said. “That’s not it. I’m just trying to get my bad temper under control before I do it. I’ll wait until you’re through.”

“Well, I am afraid to go alone,” Michaela declared, “because the medicine I want costs almost three times as much as what your father’s been taking; so please come with me out of Christian charity, Clara. He won’t carry on so if he has to split the thunder and lightning between us.”

Clara looked at her, and Michaela could see by the glint in her eyes that she wasn’t fooled by the easy chatter, but she said only, “All right, Michaela,” and went with her without further comment.

And of course, as Clara had suspected, neither of the men had thought to send Nazareth a simple yes or no. Much less the news that she was about to be divorced.

“Thomas!” Clara had been shocked. “Dear heaven, Thomas…”

“What, Clara?”

“I mean that… It’s just…”

“Clara, will you please quit stammering and sputtering and speak your piece? Nazareth doesn’t care a thing for Aaron, never has, and you know it as well as I do. What’s the problem?”

Clara was helpless, and felt both helpless and absurd. There wasn’t any way to explain it to him. It had nothing to do with whether Nazareth cared about Aaron Adiness. It had to do with first undergoing that explicit demonstration of how little she was worth to the men, when they refused the money for the breast regeneration; and it had to do with then undergoing the mutilating surgery itself; and it had to do with the way a woman was treated in the public wards, especially a linguist woman; and it had to do with the pain and the grief that Nazareth would be feeling right now; and it had to do with what it would be like for her, on top of all the rest, to be told causally, by wrist computer, “Oh by the way, Aaron’s divorcing you — thought you’d want to know.”

She could have made him understand, of course, if she’d had hours to spend explaining it to him. Thomas was a shrewd judge of the effects of language upon others, and he was — despite the silly exchange between herself and Michaela — never an unreasonable man. But there was no way to make him see it quickly and efficiently, and Thomas had no patience with long rambling speeches about subjects he had had no interest in in the first place. He was staring at her, and Clara knew that he was annoyed, and she felt as if she were going to strangle. I’m getting old, she thought, and I must be losing my wits along with my other youthful charms.

“Clara,” said Thomas, “I know you’re fond of Nazareth. But it was Nazareth who asked to go directly to Barren House, you know — it’s not as if Aaron had tried to send her there. I assure you, I would not have allowed him to do that, Clara. We are only doing what Nazareth, herself, asked for.”

“I know that, Thomas.”

“Then I truly do not understand why you are so upset.”

Michaela stepped smoothly into the widening breach, certain that Clara would welcome the help.

“Mr. Chornyak,” she said, all deference and propriety, “I think what’s worrying Clara is that Nazareth must just hear this news by wrist computer, without even a human face attached. Just that little tinny noise, saying that she’s being divorced and good riddance to her, if you see what I mean.”

“I don’t see what you mean,” Thomas answered. “She detests her husband, she doesn’t want to come home, and she’s being told that she doesn’t have to put up with either husband or Household for even one more day. It seems to me that she should be dancing in the halls. But as long as the two of you understand what you mean, it really doesn’t matter whether I do or not. I have never pretended to be an expert on the emotional notions of women.”

“Yes, sir,” Michaela said.

“Well? Have you and Clara got a solution to this dreadful difficulty that I’m too thick-headed even to perceive?”

“Mr. Chornyak, I need to see the hospital anyway — I should have gone over there long ago. I might need to send one of my patients there sometime, and I should at least be familiar with the place. Unless you have some objection, sir, I could take the message to Nazareth and have a look around the facilities at the same time.”

“I have no objection at all, Mrs. Landry,” said Thomas. “If you have the free time, and you feel it’s advisable, by all means go ahead.”

“Thank you, sir,” Michaela said. “And I have just one other item to talk to you about before I go, please.”

While Michaela was quickly outlining to Thomas the advantages of the new medication that justified the expense of its purchase, Clara slipped away without saying anything more, her gratitude written plainly in the set of her head and shoulders and the shaping of her hands.

The hospital was ugly, but then hospitals always were. Michaela had never worked in a luxury ward among the wealthy, but always in places like this. She paid very little attention to its looks, concerned only to make sure that it was clean — and it was. And she was equally unimpressed by the sass from the nurses.

“Either tell me at once, without any further nonsense, where Mrs. Adiness is, or I’ll call Thomas Blair Chornyak and tell him that you’ve misplaced her,” she told them. “Perhaps with his personal assistance we’d be able to locate her.”

“Well, there’s no need to be unpleasant!”

“You’re wasting my time, nurse, and your behavior is beneath contempt. You are here to serve, not to obstruct healing, and whether you happen to fancy a particular patient or not should not be your concern. Now take me to Mrs. Adiness.”

She was as skilled at genteel tongue-lashing laced with aristocratic venom as she was at listening to boring stories; it was one of the skills that the marital academies assumed a woman might need if she married into a wealthy family where human beings were still employed as domestic servants. The nurse recognized the tone without difficulty, and had had no training in defense against it… she came bustling out from behind her narrow counter, flushed and pouting, and took Michaela to Nazareth’s bed without asking any questions about the possible source of the authority in that voice.

“There,” she announced, pointing. “There she is. Somebody to see you, Mrs. Adiness.”

Michaela stared at her fixedly until she turned and flounced off, muttering about ingratitude and who did people think they were anyway; and then she turned to look at Nazareth.

“Mrs. Adiness,” she said courteously, “I’m Michaela Landry, the nurse that your father employs for Barren House. I’m ashamed to use the word ‘nurse’ after that specimen, but I promise you I’m not here to demonstrate the depths to which my profession sometimes manages to fall. I don’t think we’ve met except in passing… How do you do, Mrs. Adiness.”

She extended her hand, and Nazareth took it briefly, saying, “Yes, of course, Mrs. Landry, I remember you. It’s very kind of you to come by.”

She looked bruised, Michaela thought. If it were possible for someone to carry bruises of spirit and mind as well as body, she would be carrying them. Thin, ugly thin… a bad color, the characteristic unhealthy look of the cancer patient… and that skewered knot of hair. Even here. Poor thing.

“Mrs. Adiness,” she said, “it’s all right for you to go on to Barren House from here; they sent me to tell you. And your father asked me to come and help you… He didn’t want you to have to make the trip by yourself.” It was an easy lie, and it cost her nothing; she made a mental note to tell Thomas that she’d said it. And it ought to have been true, because this woman most certainly was not well enough to have left the hospital by herself and made her way to Barren House all alone. From the taut look of her she would have done it, and without a word of complaint, but she had no business making an effort of that kind. Or any other effort. Michaela wanted her tucked into a comfortable bed and under her care, and she wanted it fast. And as for the news about the divorce, she would pass that on after she had this woman comfortable, and sheltered, and away from prying eyes. Not one minute before.

“Mrs. Adiness…”

“Please, Mrs. Landry… call me Nazareth. I would prefer it.”

“As you like, ma’am, and you might consider calling me Michaela if that’s not awkward for you. Now, can you dress and get your things together while I arrange for a cab?”

“A cab?” Nazareth was astonished. “The robobus goes right by here.”

“Is that how you got here?”

“Of course,” Nazareth answered, and added, “And I don’t have any money.”

“Well, I do.”

“Money of your own?”

Michaela smiled. “It’s one of the few benefits of being both widowed and a nurse, Nazareth. My brother-in-law is my legal guardian, but he is required to leave me part of my salary since I don’t live in his home. I don’t have very much money, but I can manage the price of one short cab trip.”

“I can’t let you spend your money on me,” Nazareth objected immediately, and Michaela laughed at her.

“All right,” she said. “You are the lady of the house, and I am the employee, and I’m not about to cross you. I’ll get the cab for myself and let you take the bus, and I’ll be at Barren House before you. It will be so much nicer that way, not having to be crowded in the cab.”

She was utterly surprised when Nazareth only nodded, as if that made perfectly good sense, and she sat down at once on the edge of the other woman’s bed, careful not to jolt her as she did so.

“Oh, my dear,” she said, not caring if she seemed disrespectful, because this was mute pain that she faced and tending pain was a function that she was not able to set aside for the sake of good manners, “I didn’t mean that! Of course not! And I will not let you go to Barren House in any other way than under my care, and in decent comfort. Please understand that, and forgive me my jokes… I only meant to make you smile, Nazareth.”

Nazareth only looked at her and said nothing at all, and something in Michaela gave way, some knot she had not realized was even tied inside her. “You’re very tired, Nazareth,” she went on, “and you need care, not clever conversation. I’ll get the nurse to help you dress.”

“Please, no!”

Michaela was firm, and there was steel in her voice. “I promise you, my dear, that nurse will be as gentle and as tender with you as if you were her newborn and beloved child. You have my word on it.”

“You don’t know…”

“Oh, but I do know! I most assuredly do know. And I promise you. She will come, and she will be respectful, and she will be kind, and she will treat you with flawless attention. She will not dare do anything else — as for what she may be thinking, that is her narrow little twisted mind, and you are to ignore that as you would ignore any other deformity. For politeness’ sake. And I will get the cab and take you home.”

“I’m not a child, Michaela… you don’t have to…”

“Don’t talk! Hush. If you were a child this would be much simpler, because I could just pick you up and carry you, whether you kicked and screamed or not. But you’re taller than I am, unfortunately, and I’m going to have to have some help — must you make it even more difficult for me than it is?”

She hated saying that, because all her impulses were to treat this hurt one tenderly, but it was exactly the right thing to say. The idea that she was causing trouble for the nurse sent to fetch her stopped Nazareth’s objections immediately.

“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Landry,” said Nazareth. “Please proceed.”

Please proceed! Such a funny, awkward woman, and what a very hard time she must have had with her whole personality akimbo like that… and that swift, ever so correct “Mrs. Landry!” Putting her in her place. Her dignity would see her back to Barren House, Michaela thought, and that was far more important than anything else right now.