Forbidden by Eve Bunting Read Free Book Online

and Eli let go of my hand, stooped, and righted one of the shells that had been moved out of place.
    “I collected all these when I was a bairn,” he said. “I carried them in a wee red pail and arranged them.” He looked up at me and smiled. For a moment, I saw the little boy struggling up the hill with his red pail filled with shells for his grandmother, and my heartbeat quickened. I wished I had known him then.
    “Excuse me,” he said and stepped ahead of me to open the door.
    The room inside was filled with light from small open windows.
    I don’t know what I expected Eli’s grandmother to be, but she was, to me, unexpected. Small and round with hair as black as her grandson’s and a cheerful expression. She looked so much more pleasant than my aunt Minnie or Mrs. Kitteridge.
    She walked quickly toward me and said, “I am Eli’s grandmother, Doss Stuart. I am so glad you came. When Eli described the bite to me, I knew you must let me tend to it.”
    She indicated a chair by a small table. “May I see your foot?”
    The table held a large wooden bowl and several smaller ones in which I saw collections of different leaves and flowers. There were small bottles part filled with liquids.
    “Thank you for your concern,” I said. “I trust this is not too much trouble?”
    She smiled. “Not at all, my dear.”
    Eli was hovering behind me. “I will be at my work,” he said. “Knock if you need me.”
    I was glad he’d gone without my having to request it. But what work was he going to?
    He strode out the door and closed it behind him.
    “Do you want me to help you?” Doss Stuart knelt beside me, looking up at me with bright, dark eyes.
    “I think I can manage.” I removed my garter and rolled down my stocking. The foot of it was stuck fast to the wound. I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and pulled it free.
    “Oh, my, yes,” she said. “We need to take care of this. It was Lamb, was it not? He can be vicious. The punctures are deep. And see? You must have tried to pull away, because the skin is ripped.”
    “I may have. I do not rightly remember.”
    “I am not surprised. There is something pernicious in a dog’s saliva. You have heard of lockjaw?”
    “Not until Eli made me aware of it.”
    “The jaw is locked closed because of a spasm in the muscles. You would be unable to speak. Or eat. But we have started on treatment quickly. I do not believe you need to worry.”
    “I thank you from the bottom of my heart,” I whispered, and Mrs. Stuart smiled. “No need, my dear. Healing is the gift I was given and that I am proud to share.”
    She rose and stood by the table.
    I breathed deeply, looking around at what I supposed was the whole of the house. There was a narrow bed against the far wall. There were other wooden chairs that had the appearance of being handmade. There was a fire in the hearth, a clock, and a hanging lantern. I had never seen a house this small, so unencumbered with belongings, so filled with light.
    But Eli lived there too. How could there be only one bed?
    His grandmother’s concentration was on the leaves. She was studying, choosing, transferring some into the large bowl. She held up a small green bunch. “Sorrel,” she muttered. Another: “Yellow archangel.” Another: “Coltsfoot, to reduce the swelling and inflammation.”
    She chose, rejected.
    All of the ones selected went together onto a board.
    I watched as she chose one, studied it, muttered something, and dropped it back in its own small bowl. “Lady’s mantle,” she said. “It stanches bleeding. I do not think we have need of that.”
    From a drawer below the table she produced a knife that resembled a small hatchet. It could have been a weapon.
    With a speed I had never seen anyone use when handling a knife, she chopped all the leaves on the board and scooped them into the large bowl.
    “Eli and I find my ingredients,” she said cheerfully. “They all grow around here. You just have to look and know