Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
“The hospital contacted the Reinventor’s Guild, asking us to put together some tools that would help Astolia set up basic pasteurization.
I even wrote a support document all about the long, ancient history of heat-treating wine, so that they wouldn’t get their panties in a twist about the technology aspect, but it didn’t matter.
They said they didn’t have the funds for the proposal.
Back then, I believed them. I mean, all they’ve got are goats.
But that probably wasn’t the reason, was it?
They couldn’t let people suspect they learned anything from us. ”
“Yes! That’s exactly what would have happened.” It’s official. I love Amy Sullivan.
“But would that be enough? Walking up to the hospital and saying Kayla thinks they’re creeps and you agree, because they won’t pasteurize their milk?” Sid asks.
“Maybe,” says Amy. “It’s worth a try.”
“And I think I know who we need to hit with our story to get results,” I add.
“You do?”
“Sure.” Desk Lady. The hero this story needs. I don’t even mind Doctor Tremblay and his loose lips anymore, because he’s clearly primed the whole hospital to bend the rules. “When you need someone to break confidentiality, you go to the gossipiest bitch you know.”
* * *
WHEN WE GO into town at last, it’s for a double feature.
Buy a new table, take down a cult. Ever since coming to this island, I’ve struggled to know what my purpose is here or what I wanted, especially once April’s needs were taken care of.
It’s incredible how much braver I feel now that I want something again.
Beth-Anne. I’m doing this for Beth-Anne.
No, I’m doing it for me. Because I want to see her. Because maybe I don’t have to let go of everything in my past.
Sid and I walk toward the hospital together, my pace slowing as I near the drive until we’re at a standstill. The last time I visited, the world crashed in on me. Statistically, I know the odds are low that the Grand Astrologue will be here again, but he was once. Once is enough to give me pause.
Sid squeezes my hand. “Do you want to start by going to the exchange? Work our way up?”
“No,” I say. “I was thinking… Actually, I was thinking I would rather talk to Pat alone.”
His eyebrows fly upwards. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
Not really. But I nod anyway. “I’m trying to get her to gossip with me. You might kill the mood.”
“Take that back. I can be a gossipy bitch if I like,” says Sid, but his sad smile says he knows the real reason I want to do this alone. I need to prove to myself that I can. “I’ll be waiting outside.”
His fingers slip from mine and I break into a run. A slow, purposeful walk would be more dignified, but it’s starting to rain. In a way, I’m grateful. I’m eager to get beneath any roof, making the warm hospital sound like a good idea right now.
When I reach the door, I notice that pine boughs have been tied to the doorframe, along with sprigs of holly, red berries burning bright in the grey December rain.
The sight puzzles me, until a faded memory from all the children’s books I used to flip through with April surfaces in my mind. Christmas. It’s Christmastime.
Are we going to put a tree up at the acreage?
Do Sid and the boys give each other presents?
I haven’t prepared anything, but I would like to.
Does James know any of the old songs they used to sing?
Already, I can picture us sitting around with the guitar, eating cranberry sauce or…
whatever it is they do at Christmas. I’m making this fantasy up as I go, but that’s half the appeal of a holiday, isn’t it?
Making up your own traditions? I push the door to the Emergency department open, strangely comforted.
Pat the Desk Lady is seated at her desk, eating a bagel, and waves enthusiastically when she spots me. “Well, if it’s not my friend the Wildling!”
Still not my favourite word. I grit my teeth and smile.
“Mr. Charles came by for your sister’s medicine last week. She’s not due for more, is she?” Pat asks, setting her lunch aside.
“Um, no. I’m not here about her.” I glance around the waiting room in what I hope is a conspiratorial manner. I grip the envelope Amy passed me, detailing the pasteurization equipment the Reinventor’s Guild drew up for Astolia all those years ago.
“You aren’t here for Emergency care, are you? Pregnancy doesn’t fall under that, by the way. Just routine—”
“I’m not pregnant.”
“Oh.” She deflates.
“I wanted to ask you a question, since you seem to know everyone, Miss…” Too late, I realize I never learned her last name.
“Moore. Pat Moore. Everyone calls me Pat, though. And like you said, I do mean everyone!” She chuckles delightedly, and I think we’re back on track.
“There was a man who came here the other day,” I say, thumbing the pages. “It was over a month ago, but maybe you remember? He said he came from this place called Astolia—”
“Oh, yes! Well, I can’t give out patient details of course, but—”
“You don’t have to, Pat. I know him. I never thought I would see him again, until he was there that day.”
She straightens, clearly surprised. “But you’re a Wildling. How d’you know Gord?”
I slide the envelope from Amy across to her. “In Astolia, he made us call him the Grand Astrologue. And my family did everything we could to escape him.”
“But why would you—”
“If you have time, I think I might be able to explain.”
It’s an emergency department. There are other things she should be doing. But as her eyes dart between me and the packet, I know I’ve won her curiosity. At the very least, she seems to be entertaining the idea that I might be crazy. And from her point of view, crazy is interesting.
“Of course, hon.” She motions for me to grab one of the waiting room chairs and take a seat by her. “What is it you want to tell me?”