A vow. Id made a few of those. And he was right; all of themeven those Id brokenhad meant something, had weight. And a few of them had stood at my back, and were still standing.
That does make a difference, I said.
Ye know, ye were right, he said, sounding surprised, and smiled at me. It is easy to talk to a doctorespecially one whos got ye by the throat. Dye want to give McEwans method a try, then?
I straightened my back and flexed my hands, rather self-consciously.
It cant hurt, I said, hoping I was right. You know I added hesitantly, and felt Rogers Adams apple bob below my hand.
I know, he said gruffly. No expectations. If something happens well, it does. If not, Im no worse off.
I nodded, and felt gently about, fingertips probing. The tracheotomy Id performed to save his life had left a smaller scar in the hollow of his throat, a slight depression about an inch long. I passed my thumb over that, feeling the healthy rings of cartilage above and below. The lightness of the touch made him shiver suddenly, tiny goosebumps stippling his neck, and he gave the breath of a laugh.
Goose walking on my grave, he said.
Stamping about on your throat, more like, I said, smiling. Tell me again what Dr. McEwan said. Everything you can remember.
I hadnt taken my hand away, and I felt the lurch of his Adams apple as he cleared his throat hard.
He prodded my throatmuch as youre doing, he added, smiling back. And he asked me if I knew what a hyoid bone was. He saidRogers hand rose involuntarily toward his throat but stopped a few inches from touching itthat mine was an inch or so higher than usual, and that if it had been in the normal place, Id be dead.
Really, I said, interested. I put a thumb just under his jaw and said, Swallow, please.
He did, and I touched my own neck and swallowed, still touching his.
Ill be damned, I said. Its a small sample size, and granted, there may be differences attributable to genderbut he may well be right. Perhaps youre a Neanderthal.
A what? He stared at me.
Just a joke, I assured him. But its true that one of the differences between the Neanderthals and modern humans is the hyoid. Most scientists think they hadnt one at all, and therefore couldnt speak, but my Uncle Lamb said You rather need one for coherent speech, I added, seeing his blank look. It anchors the tongue. My uncle didnt think they could have been mute, so the hyoid must have been located differently.
How extremely fascinating, Roger said politely.
I cleared my own throat and circled his neck once again.
Right. And after saying about your hyoidwhat did McEwan do? How, exactly, did he touch you?
Roger tilted his head back slightly and, reaching up, adjusted my grip, moving my hand down an inch and gently spreading my fingers.
About like that, he said, and I found that my hand was now coveringor at least touchingall the major structures of his throat, from larynx to hyoid.
And then ? I was listening intentlynot to his voice, but to the sense of his flesh. Id had my hands on his throat dozens of times, particularly during his recovery from the hanging, but what with one thing and another I hadnt touched it in several yearsuntil today. I could feel the solid muscles of his neck, firm under the skin, and I felt his pulse, strong and regulara little fast, and I realized just how important this might be to him. I felt a qualm at that; I had no idea what Hector McEwan might have doneor what Roger might have imagined hed doneand still less notion how to do anything myself.
Its just that I know what a sound larynx should feel like, and I can tell what yours feels like, and I put my fingers there and envision the way it should feel. Thats what McEwan had said in response to Rogers questions. I wondered if I knew what a normal larynx felt like.
There was a sensation of warmth. Rogers eyes had closed again; he was concentrating on my touch. The smooth bulge of his larynx lay under the heel of my hand, bobbing slightly when he swallowed. Nothing startling. Just the feeling you get when you step into a room where a fire is burning.
Does my touch feel warm to you now? It should, I thought; his skin was cool.
Yes, he said, not opening his eyes. But its on the outside. It was on the inside when McEwan did what he did. His dark brows drew together in concentration. It I felt it here Reaching up, he moved my thumb to rest just to the right of center, directly beneath the hyoid. And here. His eyes opened in surprise, and he pressed two fingers to the flesh above his collarbone, an inch or two to the left of the suprasternal notch. How odd; I hadnt remembered that.
And he touched you there, as well? I moved my lower fingers down and felt the quickening of my senses that often happened when I was fully engaged with a patients body. Roger felt it, toohis eyes flashed to mine, startled.
What? he began, but before either of us could speak further, there was a high-pitched yowl from the clearing below. This was instantly followed by a confusion of young voices, more yowling, then a voice immediately identifiable as Mandy in a passion, bellowing, Youre bad, youre bad, youre bad and I hate you! Youre bad and youse going to HELL!
Roger leapt to his feet. Amanda! he bellowed. Come here right now! Over his shoulder, I saw Amanda, face contorted with rage, trying to grab her doll, Esmeralda, which Germain was dangling by one arm, just above her head, dancing to keep away from Amandas concerted attempts to kick him.
Startled, Germain looked up, and Amanda connected full-force with his shin. She was wearing stout half boots and the crack of impact was clearly audible, though instantly superseded by Germains cry of pain. Jemmy, looking appalled, grabbed Esmeralda, thrust her into Amandas arms, and with a guilty glance over his shoulder ran for the woods, followed by a hobbling Germain.
Jeremiah! Roger roared. Stop right there! Jem froze as though hit by a death ray; Germain didnt, and vanished with a wild rustling into the shrubbery.
Id been watching the boys, but a faint choking noise made me glance sharply at Roger. Hed gone pale and was clutching his throat with both hands. I seized his arm.
Are you all right?
I dont know. He spoke in a rasping whisper, but gave me the shadow of a pained smile. Think Imight have sprained something.
Daddy? said a small voice beside me. Amanda sniffled dramatically, wiping tears and snot all over her face. Is you mad at me, Daddy?
Roger took an immense breath, coughed, and went over, squatting down to take her in his arms.
No, sweetheart, he said softlybut in a fairly normal voice, and something clenched inside me began to relax. Im not mad. You mustnt tell people theyre going to hell, though. Come here, lets wash your face. He stood up, holding her, and turned toward my mixing table, where there was a basin and ewer.
Ill do it, I said, reaching out for Mandy. Maybe you want to go and er talk to Jem?
Mmphm, he said, and handed her across. A natural snuggler, Mandy at once clung affectionately to my neck and wrapped her legs around my middle.
Can we wash my dollys face, too? she asked. Dose bad boys got her dirty!
I listened with half an ear to Mandys mingled endearments to Esmeralda and denunciations of her brother and Germain, but most of my attention was focused on what was going on in the clearing below.
I could hear Jems voice, high and argumentative, and Rogers, firm and much lower, but couldnt pick out any words. Roger was talking, though, and I didnt hear any choking or coughing . That was good.
The memory of him bellowing at the children was even better. Hed done that beforeit was a necessity, children and the great outdoors being what they respectively werebut Id never heard him do it without his voice breaking, with a follow-up of coughing and throat clearing. McEwan had said that it was a small improvement, and that it took time for healing.
Had I actually done anything to help?
I looked critically at the palm of my hand, but it looked much as usual: a half-healed paper cut on the middle finger, stains from picking blackberries, and a burst blister on my thumb, from snatching a spider full of bacon that had caught fire out of the hearth, without a pot holder to shield my hand. Not a sign of any blue light, certainly.
Wassat, Grannie? Amanda leaned off the table to look at my upturned hand.
Whats what? That black splotch? I think its ink; I was writing up my casebook yesterday. Kirsty Wilsons rash. Id thought at first the rash was just poison sumac, but it was hanging on in a rather worrying fashion . No fever, though perhaps it was hives? Or some kind of atypical psoriasis?
No, dat. Mandy poked a wet, chubby finger at the heel of my hand. Issa letter! She twisted her head halfway round to look closer, black curls tickling across my arm. Letter J! she announced triumphantly. J is for Jemmy! I hate Jemmy, she added, frowning.
Er I said, completely nonplussed. It was the letter J. The scar had faded to a thin white line but was still clear if the light struck right. The scar Jamie had given me, when Id left him at Culloden. Left him to die, hurling myself through the stones to save his unborn, unknown child. Our child. And if I hadnt?
I looked at Mandy, sherry-eyed and black-curled and perfect as a tiny spring apple. Heard Jem outside, now giggling with his father. It had cost us twenty years apartyears of heartbreak, pain, and danger. It had been worth it.
Its for Granddas name. J for Jamie, I said to Amanda, who nodded as though that made perfect sense, clutching a soggy Esmeralda to her chest. I touched her glowing cheek and imagined for an instant that my fingers might be tinged with blue, though they werent.
Mandy, I said, on impulse. What color is my hair?
When your hair is white, youll come into your full power. An old Tuscarora wisewoman named Nayawenne had said that to me, years agoalong with a lot of other disturbing things.
When your hair is white, youll come into your full power. An old Tuscarora wisewoman named Nayawenne had said that to me, years agoalong with a lot of other disturbing things.
Mandy stared intently at me for a moment, then said definitely, Brindle.
What? Where did you learn that word, for heavens sake?