Leanna Dove's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

Leanna drove back with Annie safe in the seat and the herb pouches in her lap. But her sister was still on the bus, alone. Lindy came with them. "I'll look at her too," she said, and that was all. Leanna held the wheel and did not slow down. They found Lyndsey in the small washroom at the back of the bus. She knelt over the toilet, throwing up. Her dark hair stuck to her face. Her belly pushed against her sweatshirt, swollen and tight. She was crying, and her skin burned when Leanna touched her. "I can't stop," Lyndsey said. "My stomach won't stop." She wiped her mouth. "I made it worse, didn't I." "No," Leanna said. "You didn't." Lindy knelt on the tile. She was the healer from the clinic, reddish-blonde, calm, the woman who had pulled Annie back an hour ago. She lifted the edge of Lyndsey's shirt and pressed two fingers low on her belly. Lyndsey cried out. Lindy pressed again, one spot over. Same cry. She sat back on her heels. "It's the same thing," Lindy said. "Nervous stomach. A bad flare. She's got a fever from the strain." She looked at Leanna. "Does she sing too?" "She does," Leanna said. "Both of them. On empty stomachs." Lindy nodded once. "Then I treat it the same." She did what she'd done for Annie. She helped Leanna walk Lyndsey out of the washroom and lay her flat on the bunk. She warmed balm between her palms. "This will hurt," Lindy told Lyndsey. "It brings the swelling down." She rubbed slow circles across Lyndsey's stomach. Lyndsey hissed and gripped the blanket. Leanna held her hand and did not let go. Lindy kept on, steady, not fast, not stopping. After a minute Lyndsey's breathing came slower. Her shoulders dropped. Lindy poured thyme tea and pressed the warm cup into Lyndsey's hands. "Small sips. Then sleep." She set the other pouches on the bunk. "Steep these for the swelling." Lyndsey drank. The crying stopped. The fever still glowed in her cheeks, but the pain had loosened its grip. "Better," Lyndsey whispered. Then, quieter, checking herself: "Not fixed. But better." Leanna felt her chest let go. Two women, the same sickness, both stable now. She had done what she came to do. Lindy stood and wiped her hands. She looked from Lyndsey to Annie, asleep in the front seat, and her soft eyes went hard. "Two singers," Lindy said. "Same town. Same week. Both starving themselves before they perform." She was quiet, and precise. "That's not a coincidence. Someone's teaching them to do this." Leanna went still. She had treated the sickness. She had not asked why so many singers carried it. Lindy had just named the thing under the thing. "Then I need to find out who," Leanna said.