Today was one of those days for my charges that was filled with emptiness, if such a thing can be. It was a day in which the passage of time is felt, and yet on looking back one can see nothing but weariness and struggle with emotions and difficulties that are beyond explanation. Grace felt this, and Jonathan felt this—even Pamela had a rough day, beginning to feel a low-lying fear of the coming change in her life. I did what I could to help them all, but the difficulty was such that even I began to feel a heaviness weighing me down by the end of the day.
To come to the Prices’ home, then, and find Isabella crying quietly at the kitchen table was almost more than I could take. She was sitting with her hands over her mouth, trying to muffle her sobs and keep her tears from falling on hospital documents and electric bills. In her spirit was a deep fear and despair that I wasn’t certain I could even touch.
Thankfully, I have learned that sometimes humans themselves are better at managing their own problems than I could ever be.
I went down the hall to Harrington’s room. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. A magazine was face-down on his chest, but he had long since given up on it. His thoughts were moving in dull circles, lethargic and sad.
“Is he well enough to get up?” I asked Brid.
She considered me for a moment. “Yes.”
So although Isabella was not making enough noise for Harrington to hear, I made him believe that he heard her. It took a moment for the imagined sound to penetrate his fog, and when it did, it only made him feel worse. Brid frowned at me.
“But don’t you see?” I asked him, spreading a wing over him and radiating confidence. “You can make this better. All she needs is you. Do you not owe it to her to try?”
He considered this, then reached out for the wheelchair left by his bed. Brid helped to steady him and ease his discomfort as he levered himself clumsily into the chair—it is the first time he has done it by himself. The success of the motion cheered him a bit, and he wheeled his way out of the room and into the kitchen.
Hearing him coming, Isabella started up in surprise. “I’m sorry, honey, do you need something?” she asked, hiding her face and hastily wiping her tears. “Did you call me? I’m so sorry—”
Harrington wheeled right up to her. His lowered angle of sight made it impossible for her to hide the evidence of her tears. He took her hand, and she sank right back into her chair and her sobs.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped, gripping his hand tightly and covering her eyes with her other hand. “I’m so sorry, I wish I knew—I’m sorry, I don’t even—”
He only turned one wheel a bit so that his shoulder was neatly inserted under her head. She rested on him, reassured by his solidity—that at least has not changed. For a long time they only sat together, long after her tears were done.
Finally Harrington craned his neck to look at the papers still spread out on the table. “Do I want to know?”
She groaned and turned to shove the papers into a pile. “You already do. It’s the same horrible stuff, Harrington, nothing worse than what we’ve already been dealing with. I just—I don’t know, it all hit me at once.”
He studied her. “But it’s better now?”
She sighed. “As much as it can be.” Her head lifted a bit, and she met his eyes. “Thank you for coming out.” Her hand, still locked around his, tightened in emphasis of her gratitude.
His smile was wistful. “Glad I could help. Nothing wrong with my shoulder, anyway.”
They looked at one another, and the pain of their situation was there, not even very far below the surface. But they also felt the love they shared, and in that there was hope for the future.
“I see,” said Brid as Harrington offered to go through the accounts with her. “Well done. Sometimes it does pay off to take risks.”
I started at this—so many of my risks have failed lately, with catastrophic results for my charges. But this was a success. Both Isabella and Harrington are feeling lighter this evening, and they have renewed some of the closeness that was injured even as Harrington was.
I wonder if Brid said that intentionally, to reassure me that my judgment is still good? It would be like her. She is a Healer in truth, tending not only to her charges but also to a brother in need.
I am very lucky to work alongside such a friend as her.