Page 15 of Healer
My heartbreak at what this wonderful creature endured broke from my lips in a deep sigh.
Agnes lifted her hands between us. I let my gaze wander over the smooth, milky skin and slender fingers.
"The stiffness has progressed just in the last few weeks."
I took Agnes' hands in mine, letting my fingers probe the muscles and joints. Her hands didn't differ much from mine at the surface level, normal to my palpations. But this disease ran deeper, written into the very code that made her human.
To cure her would mean re-writing her genetic code—a difficult procedure but not undoable, especially now that we had a Garoot Healer aboard the Bardaga.
"I will heal you," I vowed.
Agnes started, jerking her hands from my grasp, and eyeing me cautiously. "You said your Medi thing didn't work on a genetic level," she reminded me with a hint of accusation.
"It doesn't," I admitted. "But there is another more appropriate technology aboard the Bardaga. Altering your genetic code will be difficult but not impossible."
Agnes glanced at her hands, then at me, tears falling from her lashes in a torrent.
"Please. Don't give me false hope," she whisper-begged.
I wiped the tears from her cheeks, smiling gently. "I swear on the goddess Valana. I will heal you of this affliction."
Her voice escaped in a moan as she threw her arms around my neck, sobs once again overtaking her. But this time, instead of accompanying sorrow, Agnes laughed.
I let my arms steal around her waist, holding her tightly, praying to every god I knew existed to make my words to her true.
Chapter 7 – Agnes
Color me impressed!
Or perhaps crazy, but right now, I’d go with impressed.
I hadn’t felt this hopeful in I couldn’t remember when. Hakkar swore to his goddess that he would heal me. Something about how he touched my hands with practiced skill. The look of determination and the desire to understand dancing in his golden eyes made me believe, too. It felt odd, like tiny happy fairies dancing through my blood... blood that Hakkar might soon cleanse of the harbinger of death.
As long as I could remember, I’d carried a chasm of dread deep in my soul. Even before the testing and diagnosis, my body knew something wasn’t right. After the diagnosis, every day proved an exercise in fretfulness. Was that twinge in my knee ALS, or just because I’d been on my feet too long? Had the pain in my joints increased? Or was it just my imagination, as so often happened when disaster loomed on the horizon?
When the first real symptoms of ALS occurred, not only did I have to accept the fact I hadn’t escaped the disease—Derek walked out on me. The man I’d pledged to love through sickness and in health apparently didn’t feel as bound by our vows as I did. I should have known. Especially when he sat beside me years earlier, reeling from the diagnosis, and asked Dr. Smithson,‘How will this affect my life?’
Asshole.
I let everyone think Derek and I broke up because I caught him cheating. On the scale of being an asshole, dumpingone sick’s spouse trumps cheating... at least it did for me. I felt bad about lying to my friends but coming clean about Derek meant coming clean about myself.
Something I wasn’t prepared to do.
Yet, telling Hakkar, while not easy, seemed almost instinctive. Deep down, some part of me knew I could trust him... needed to trust him with my deepest, darkest truth.
He promised to heal me. I healed him... well, I cleaned the gash on his arm. My first diagnosis had been correct, wicked looking, but not deep. He wouldn’t even let me put on a bandage. Although seeing as how the bandage was a strip of my nasty dress, I didn’t much blame him.
We’d left the river almost an hour ago, walking along the edge on a sandy path.
Coming off the water, the air kissed my skin with freshness. The roar of rushing water had the effect of white noise on my nerves. Even my hands didn’t seem quite as stiff, perhaps because I no longer held the burden of my illness alone. My eyes burned from all the tears I’d shed, but I felt lighter and freer, and it manifested in my carefree stride.
I glanced at the man responsible for my shift in mood. We’d been walking silently since leaving the river. Hakkar dedicated his intense focus onto his small Medi device, fingers roaming over the gray box. A deep frown gathered between his brows as the equipment resisted his will. Watching him made me smile.
He made me smile.
As if feeling my gaze, he glanced up, his golden eyes settling on mine. My heart jumped for reasons that had nothing to do with relief and hopefulness. The beat in my chest came from something more primal—something I hadn’t let myself consider in a long time.
Hakkar turned his attention back to the box and, after a few more minutes, gave a triumphant grunt. The golden eyes danced, and he grinned as he turned to face me.
