Page 55 of Healing Hazel

Her companions stood in the small dwelling with Ramiro, who was motioning them outside.

Camila helped Hazel rise.

Hazel swayed, pushing an arm against the stone wall to steady herself. The heaviness in her head turned into an aching pressure. She felt dazed. Seeing a bucket of water, she stepped over to it and splashed her face. The cold water helped wake her, but her head still felt too heavy. Her eyes were swollen, and every bit of her ached. Compared to sleeping on a stone floor, the monk’s cot was luxurious. She found where her nurse’s cap had fallen during the night and put it on, straightening her apron and brushing the wrinkles from her dress. She still wore her traveling cape.

When she stepped through the doorway, she crossed her arms against the cold, wrapping her cape around her. The frigid air made its way into her lungs, and she coughed.

Ramiro took a step toward her, twisting his shoulders just slightly to block her from the others in her group.

Hazel paused.

“¿La carta?” He took an envelope from his coat pocket. It looked worn, and the paper was dirty, as if it had been opened and closed often.

“Yes.” She recognized the envelope and her own handwriting upon it. “That is the letter. Jakinda and I wrote it for you. I’m so glad you received it.”

Based on his blank expression, Ramiro may or may not have understood her Spanish. He returned the letter to his pocket and stepped back, motioning with his head that she was to join the others.

“Come.” He spoke the word in Spanish and pointed with his gun. They walked ahead of him to the low table where they’d eaten the night before. Bread, cheese, and some shriveled apples were upon it.

The sight of the food made Hazel’s stomach feel sour. She looked away and tried not to smell it, pointing instead to the part of the clearing where the earth had been dug up in a mound.

Ramiro nodded his permission for her to go to the privy. Hazel’s stomach sickened again, and she coughed at the smell when she got near, but that was to be expected.

Instead of returning to her companions at the table, she sat on a rock near them, holding her head.

“You should eat.” Jim came to stand next to her.

“I’m not hungry this morning,” Hazel said.

“You will need your strength.”

She didn’t reply. The talk of food was not helping her stomach settle.

Jim crouched beside her, chewing on a bit of apple. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit sore from sleeping on the ground.” Hazel kept her voice light. “I imagine we all are.”

“And... your other symptoms?”

“I am all right now.”

He studied her face for a moment, then nodded.

“I am sorry,” she said. “About my reaction.” She turned her head to glance at him, the movement making her neck ache. “I must have frightened you all.”

“Not frightened,” Jim said. “But we were worried.”

“It is embarrassing,” Hazel admitted. “When a spell comes on, I have no control.” She looked toward the table where the others were eating. “I didn’t want any of you to know that I... that it happens sometimes.”

“You have no reason to be embarrassed,” Jim said.

She turned back to give him a smile before closing her eyes and resting her head in her hands. “I’m glad you were there,” she said. “You made me feel safe.”

“That is something you may count on, Hazel.” Jim sat down on the ground by the rock, stretching his legs in front of him. “Always.” He didn’t say anything more, but in his silence she could feel affection, warmth. And she was comforted to have him beside her.

The group finished eating, but before they returned to tending the patients, Jim poured some of the alcohol over their hands and the medical instruments.

The men watching looked irritated at the waste of their perfectly good drink, but they did not stop him.

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