2
brIDGETTE AND BIRDIE WALKED SIDE by side along the path to where they lived. On a good day, it took them about half an hour to make the trip from The Golden Pear to the humble cottages they called home. Birdie wasn’t usually one who volunteered to leave the safety of her little bubble. It made Bridgette’s stomach twist with worry.
“Did you call for the doctor, Birdie? Is my mother okay?” Bridgette asked. She tried to ignore the wetness in her shoes that was starting to get very uncomfortable. She would have to leave them out to dry; they were the only ones she had.
“No, no,” Birdie said. “Doc c-came by. He looked at mother and was s-sad.” Bridgette frowned. That was not good. “The birds acting strange t-today, Bridgeet.”
Despite her worry, Bridgette let herself smile at Birdie’s unique way of saying her name. Ever since the day they had met eight months earlier, the woman had struggled to say it correctly. Bridgette wasn’t the type of person who would get upset about such a thing. She was actually fond of it, even though others made fun of it. “The birds are acting strange, you say? They are not happy about the clouds?”
“No, no. Something else, Bridgeet.”
“Hmm, maybe they could sense my bad mood,” Bridgette suggested. She kicked at the pebbles as they continued to walk.
“Bridgeet, not h-happy?” Birdie stopped walking and looked at her with a furrowed brow.
“Come on, we got to hurry back,” Bridgette said as she pulled Birdie with her. She sighed loudly. “No, Birdie, I am not happy. It seems no matter how hard I try to do my best, it is never enough. Never, ever.” Her eyes stung with tears begging to be shed. Hold it together, Bridgette.
“Miss Hellen not h-happy with you?” Birdie asked, as if she were offended by the thought.
“No, she is not happy with me. And so I shall add her name to the list of people who I really should avoid in Cold Stone Hollow. I honestly don’t understand it, Birdie. Why can’t I just be good enough? Why can’t I just stay on my feet like everyone else? Why do I always have to break something, even when I am careful? And why do I always find myself in the most ridiculous situations that nobody would believe unless they witnessed it with their own eyes?” Bridgette let out a frustrated noise that sounded like a strangled goat, it would have made her mother faint. “I am just tired of it.”
“Bridgeet needs a husband,” Birdie said plainly. That stopped Bridgette’s self-deprecating thoughts in their tracks.
“No, Bridgeet needs employment to make money,” she corrected.
“Bridgeet needs money. Husbands have money.”
Bridgette laughed loudly. “You can see everything so simply, Birdie. I wish I had your logical mind. If it were as easy as you say, our problems would be solved. But I have yet to find a man who will give me the time of day and not make me want to push him down a well.” It was a thought she had too often when dealing with the men in town. Currently, the one at the top of the list was Jack and his idiot mouth. “Besides, I don't need to get married to live comfortably. Once we have saved enough money, we’ll move to a bigger house with a lot of land. We can make an extravagant birdhouse for your birds, grow vegetables to sell, and have money for luxurious things like plush furniture, an extra pair of shoes, and chocolate. No husband needed.”
“Birdie get chocolate?”
Bridgette laughed. “Yes, Birdie will get some chocolate too.” Bridgette gasped when a cold drop of water slid down the back of her dress. They both looked up and squinted as raindrops began to fall. “The birds were right as always,” Bridgette said. The clouds were not happy, but Bridgette’s parched little garden would be thrilled by the change in weather.
Birdie pulled the brim of her hat down over her ears and frowned. She did not like to get wet. Bridgette grabbed her hand and started sprinting. “Come on, Birdie! We are almost there!”
It only took them a few minutes to reach Bridgette’s cottage, but they were both soaked to the bone as they stepped through the small doorway. Birdie shook like a bird drying out its feathers as Bridgette closed the door behind them. She helped Birdie hang her hat and jacket on the hooks by the door before she unlaced her own boots and left them to dry. Birdie led the way out of the little entryway into the main room that only had space for a small couch, a little table with two small chairs, and a stove and basin as a kitchen. The only other room was a single bedroom where her mother rested. The latrine was outside, behind the cottage. It was not much, but it was home, and it was hers. Birdie lived right next door in an identical cottage, though she spent much of her time with Bridgette and her mom.
A woman sat on the couch with her hand gently resting on her very swollen belly. She looked up with a pleasant smile. Maybe things were not so bad? “Hello, Bridgette. Nathan is with your mother.”
“Thank you, Ava,” Bridgette said, walking to the bedroom door. She knocked lightly and pushed the door open a crack.
“Come in,” Doctor Thistle said.
Bridgette entered the small room that held only a bed big enough for one person, and two stools, one of which was used as a nightstand. Doctor Nathan Thistle sat on the other stool next to the bed where Bridgette’s mother lay sleeping. He was using his medical instrument that helped him hear the heart and lungs. He gently moved the end that wasn’t in his ears to different locations on her mother’s chest. Finally, he put the tool away and turned toward Bridgette.
“Bridgette, I apologize for dropping by unannounced, but I was visiting another patient down the road and thought I would check in with Clara and see how she has been responding to the tonic,” he said. His eyes were more dreary than Bridgette would have liked. “I didn’t realize you were at work. I had hoped that it would be a quick visit and Birdie would be able to fill you in later.”
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Bridgette guessed. “I have given her peppermint tea with the tonic twice a day. She seems to be more tired, and her coughing has gotten worse.” Bridgette tried and failed to swallow the lump in her throat. As if on cue, her mother started having a coughing fit. Bridgette ran to her mother’s side and helped her sit up. She filled a cup of water from the pitcher she kept on the makeshift nightstand and brought it to her mother’s lips. Clara weakly drank and then laid back onto the pillow.
“Bridgette,” her mom whispered.
“I’m here, Mama,” she said as she took her mother’s hand. Her skin was even paler than it had been the day before. Her breaths were shallow and rattled in her chest. Bridgette wasn’t a doctor, but she knew that wasn’t good. “What can we try next, Doc?”
“Bridgette,” Doc said. His tone of voice made her stomach feel like a heavy stone. She slowly looked up at him. He looked down at her from the stool with a pained face. “I have done everything I know how to do. I am afraid her lungs are too far gone with how much smoke she breathed in.”
“No, it hasn’t been that long. She still has time to get better,” Bridgette argued, sitting down on the floor, still clutching her mother’s hand.
“It has been eight months since the fire, Bridgette. Most patients I have seen in similar situations have made a full recovery at this point.” He removed his glasses and rubbed his temples as he continued, “Her body is tired, and I hate to say it, but you might want to start thinking about just making her comfortable for—”
“No, no, no,” Bridgette sobbed softly. She buried her face in her mother’s thin blankets and cried. A firm hand gripped her shoulder as she continued to let her emotions come out. Bridgett’s mother was all that she had left of her life before, the only part she cared to keep. How could she just let go? She couldn’t. She would do anything she had to do to fix the problems she caused. After a few minutes, she took a deep breath and looked up. Doc sat on the floor next to her, his hand still on her shoulder, giving her silent support.
Nathan Thistle was young for a doctor. His hair had yet to gray, and his skin showed no worry lines around his eyes, even with many long nights of treating patients. He was smart and caring. He never made Bridgette feel guilty for the choices that had brought her to her current situation. In the few short months she had known him, he had become like an older brother to her.
He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and generously offered it to her. Bridgette took it and wiped her eyes. “Is there truly nothing else to be done? Is there not someone else that might have more knowledge on her specific ailment?”
“There are doctors who specialize in different parts of the body. It could be worth seeking out one that specializes in the lungs,” he said thoughtfully.
“Where do I find a doctor like that?” Bridgette perked up.
Doc sighed. “Doctors like that are located closer to the castle where they received their education, and can easily confer with colleagues about difficult cases.”
Bridgette’s shoulders slumped. “Closer to the castle means they probably charge more money.”
“That is probably true,” he said sympathetically.
Bridgette rested her head on the bed again and groaned. “Miss Hellen fired me today.”
“Oh, dear. I hope it’s not because I sent Birdie to get you.”
She shook her head. “No, your timing was actually good. It saved me from further humiliation.”
“It can’t be as bad as all that,” Doc said.
Bridgette lifted her head and looked him straight in the eye. “I dumped a bucket of water on my shoes, tracked the water through the restaurant, slipped on the water, and the plate I was carrying ended up hitting Charles in the back of the head. I also ruined The Golden Pear experience for a lord and lady who will probably tell all their rich friends to never come near Cold Stone Hollow.” Doc pressed his lips together and ducked his head down. “Are you laughing at me?” She nudged him with a shoulder.
He shook with the laugh he held in. “I am sorry. But the picture you have painted is delightfully hilarious. And I feel you are fortunate that you hit Charlie, who is a good kid with good folks, and not someone like Jack, who would take it as a personal attack.”
“I would much rather have hit Jack,” she mumbled under her breath. That made Doc laugh louder, but he still held it in.
“What will you do now?”
“The only thing I can do. Look for a new position until I find one. I barely have enough money saved for a week’s worth of food. And that isn’t even considering the beginning of next month when taxes are due.” Bridgette twisted her fingers in the fabric of her skirts and willed the anxious knots in her stomach to go away.
“That reminds me, have you seen the latest news? There was a pamphlet handed out yesterday,” he said with a pained look on his face.
“I have not heard about a pamphlet,” Bridgette said with dread.
Doc stood and helped her stand. Bridgette followed as he walked out of the room and said, “Ava, what did I do with yesterday’s pamphlet?”
“It is here, in the outside pocket of your medical bag,” Ava said as she reached for the bag by her feet. She grunted as she reached over her round belly. She grabbed the bag, pulled out a folded parchment, and handed it to Bridgette.
Bridgette quickly looked over the different headings.
Protests of Magic People Turn Violent
That was no surprise. For the last several months, Bridgette had heard that sorcerers in the kingdom were having trouble refueling their magic stores. They were angry and demanded answers from the king, but had gotten no response. Bridgette had rarely been around magic when she was young, and now she was far away from the castle, which was where most people with powers lived. The violence could change things, but Bridgette was just happy to be out of harm's way.
The boldest heading caught her attention.
Prince Vincent to be Crowned King
The royal surgeon has confirmed the unfortunate news of King Theron’s death of natural causes. He leaves his only living son, Prince Vincent Blackmoore, to take the throne. A date for the crowning ceremony is yet to be determined. A wake for invited guests only will be held for King Theron Blackmoore this Sunday.
This was unfortunate for the king and his family. Bridgette had seen the sovereign once from a distance. Her other memories of the king were when her father cursed his name for the taxes he charged. Bridgette didn’t know anything other than King Theron’s rule. Hopefully, there were good changes in store with Prince Vincent becoming the new king. She kept scanning the page, and her eyes caught on another headline.
Regent Declares Tax Increase
By word of Regent Prince Vincent Blackmoore, the current tax on every living soul in the Oakwater Kingdom will double starting on the next tax collection day and will continue until otherwise noted. Any who do not pay their full amount the first day of each month will be fined or arrested.
Bridgette let herself fall back onto the couch with a groan and covered her face with the pamphlet. She knew Doc, Ava, and Birdie were waiting to see her reaction.
“Double?” she asked in disbelief, the paper still covering her face.
“It is absolutely ridiculous,” Ava agreed. “The king’s body hasn’t even been laid to rest and the regent is doubling the taxes for his gain.”
“I don’t think there are enough prison cells for everyone who is barely getting by as it is,” Doc said.
Bridgette lowered the pamphlet with a sigh. “I was barely making ends meet. But now with the increase, there is no way I will be able to save for a specialist.”
“I wish I could offer you employment and pay you, but not everyone pays in coins,” Doc said from where he leaned on the wall.
Bridgette sat up straight and shook her head. “Please, don’t feel like you have to fix all my problems. Tomorrow, after the house work is done, I will go out and look for a position. There has to be something out there.”
Ava set her hand gently on Bridgette’s shoulder and gave her a warm smile that made her feel safe. “We will ask around as well. Whatever happens, we will be here.”
Bridgette returned her smile. “Thank you.”
“Well, we should be off to the next appointment,” Doc said, and helped his wife get on her feet. Bridgette dug a coin out of her pocket and held it out for the doctor when he bent down to grab his medical bag. He looked up at her in surprise. “No, Bridgette, I am not charging you for this visit.”
“But you must be paid for your work. I insist,” she said, still holding the money out.
Doctor Thistle closed her hand over the coin and smiled sadly. “This was not a regular visit—I was in the area. You make me some of your delicious blueberry muffins when I come by next week, and that will be sufficient.” Bridgette wanted to argue, but the kindness made her speechless. “Until then,” he said with a tip of his head, and opened the door. He helped his wife out the door to the horse they had tied to a tree near Bridgette’s cottage.
The rain had stopped, and now the wet grass and leaves sparkled in the sunshine. The air was refreshing. Bridgette stood in the doorway and watched as Doc tenderly lifted Ava’s hand and kissed it. Ava smiled at her husband with such joy, it brought happy tears to Bridgette’s eyes.
There was a time, not very long ago, when Bridgette had thought there was no more love left in the world. And just when she’d thought the darkness would swallow her up, she was given a chance to escape. She wasn’t going to waste that chance—she was going to look for employment and save money. She would find a doctor to help her mother. She would make a life worth living with her mother and Birdie, and then maybe she would have time to find a love that would make all her worries disappear.
Bridgette smiled as she closed the door to her little cottage. She was only a failure if she gave up, and as long as she had breath in her lungs, she would keep moving forward.