Chapter Twenty-Two #2
The crows had followed her, and the white crow had come to perch on the porch railing, there to observe her with his bright eyes. There were thirteen crows now, a witch’s lucky number.
“Hello, you,” Ava said to the white crow. “Can you tell me what to do?”
The crow gave no answer, merely peered down at her, and Ava knew whatever she did next was up to her. The houses on this street were kept up, with children playing in the yards. Several were watching her, for they were always interested in the women who arrived at the Healys’ house.
Mrs. Healy opened the door, not in the least surprised to see that a stranger had come to call.
Women often came by unexpectedly, those who didn’t have access to a phone or who were too frightened to speak while their husbands were in the house or too young to claim any privacy for themselves.
Sometimes the best they could manage was a note slipped under the door.
Sometimes they merely stood on the porch, anxious and in need, as this beautiful red-haired woman was doing right now.
I’m in trouble. I need to make a decision. There’s no one else to turn to.
“I’m a friend of Maureen’s and I know Billy,” Ava explained as she introduced herself.
“Ava! Of course! I’ve heard all about you,” Grace Healy said warmly as she welcomed her into the house.
Mrs. Healy was always gracious to someone in need, even though she was currently exhausted, having just come from a home birth in Somerville.
All through the labor, death had been knocking at the windows, but she had finally managed to turn the baby, who had been presenting feetfirst. She had spilled salt in the corners of the room, and she’d given the mother a tea made of black cohosh and raspberry leaf, and at last the child was born, healthy and screaming, welcomed into the light of the world.
The Healy house had been in the family for over a hundred years and couldn’t have been more comfortable. A lumbering Irish wolfhound raised himself from the rug to greet Ava when she entered the room.
“Don’t mind Dillon,” Grace Healy told her as the dog rubbed his enormous head against Ava. “He’s a big baby.”
“I don’t mind in the least. I love dogs.” Ava was still grief-stricken over the loss of Jack, and she always would be. It was a comfort to have this enormous dog lie down at her feet as if he knew of her sorrows.
Mrs. Healy fixed a pot of confession tea, made of ginger and yarrow. She served it to anyone who came for a cure simply to ensure she didn’t dispense the wrong remedy if someone failed to admit the whole truth when telling their story.
“It’s probably an inconvenience to have me here,” Ava said, embarrassed by her situation.
Mrs. Healy waited for her to say more. It was best to be quiet. Listen, and they’d pour their hearts out. Sooner or later, you’d get to the truth.
“I didn’t tell Maureen I was coming to see you.”
The issue was that Ava’s period was late.
It hadn’t seemed unusual, until she’d realized just how late she was.
Once she had admitted why she was there, they went into the parlor, where Ava was asked to make herself comfortable on the couch.
Mrs. Healy removed the chain she wore around her neck.
Attached to it was a brass locket filled with apple seeds.
When she held the amulet over Ava’s belly, it began to move, slowly at first, then more quickly, back and forth and then in a circle.
“Definitely a girl,” Grace Healy predicted.
Ava burst into tears, then sat up in order to accept a handkerchief.
It was so quiet in the Healys’ home you’d never guess that you were in the middle of a city.
“There won’t be a father,” Ava said. She didn’t have to ask the white crow in order to know that in her story she would have to wait for her beloved to return.
Grace shrugged. “There’s a mother. That’s more than enough.”
“I never had a mother. She gave me up.”
“Are you certain?” Grace Healy had seen scores of women who were forced to make choices they didn’t wish to make when circumstances were beyond their control. “For all you know, she’s been waiting for you all this time.”