Forbidden by Eve Bunting Read Free Book Online Page A

the properties of each. There are poisonous ones too. But not in my house.”
    “Yes. He knew which plant to use to ease my nettle sting,” I said.
    Her smile showed me a dimple. “I have used a dock leaf on many of his stings. He was always roaming and exploring when he was a boy.”
    She took a wooden instrument shaped like an upside-down mushroom, added some drops of a clear liquid to the bowl, and began pounding.
    Pound, pound, pound.
    “There’s foxglove and woody nightshade to be found by the roadside,” she said. “Poisonous, malignant. The nightshade has bright purple or yellow flowers. Very pretty. Reminds us that something that looks enticing can be deadly.”
    “And what is this?” I asked, lifting a small bottle, filled with liquid that was white as milk.
    “That is a sleeping potion,” she said. “Made from reishi mushrooms and the oil of hops. I have used a drop or two myself when I have been too worried to sleep.”
    I somehow knew her worries would be for Eli.
    We were both quiet as she filled another bowl with water that had been warmed and bathed my foot and ankle. The water turned from clear to the palest pink. Gently she dried the wound and went back to her pounding.
    The leaves came together in a green paste that she lifted and sniffed.
    Her smile at me was one of satisfaction. “It is ready.”
    I smiled too, but mine was a false smile. She was going to put this strange mixture on my ankle, on the open sores? I had acquiesced. I’d been fascinated. But would this concoction really help? Or would it cause more harm? Could I, at this last moment, reject her ministrations? Could I—
    She had turned from me and taken a long, narrow cloth from where it lay on one of the other chairs. “Now we will spread on the paste and bind it up.”
    I could do nothing.
    I held up my foot. Using her fingers, she spread the compote over the wounds and wrapped the cloth tight around them, securing it in place. It was easy to see that she had tended to cuts many times before.
    It was cool and soothing, and I could not resist a sigh of pleasure.
    “There,” she said. “You will need to return tomorrow so I can ascertain if it needs further attention. Now shall we have a cup of tea before you leave?”
    She brought a teapot, black and battered, from the hob. “I hope you like it strong,” she said.
    “Yes, thank you,” I responded, although in truth I did not.
    I slid my stocking over the bandage and winced.
    “It will ease,” Mrs. Stuart said in a kindly tone. “I promise you that, my dear. You will be surprised how speedily it will feel better.”
    Tears sprang into my eyes. For the first time since I had arrived, I felt true goodness and kindness directed toward me.
    “You may want to have your uncle Caleb look at it. You know he was an apothecary?”
    I nodded. I would not want any such thing.
    “Have you eaten?” she asked me. “I can give you a scone and blaeberry jam. I like to make jam from the berries I find. Do not worry. I do not use woody nightshade or foxglove.” There was mischief in her eyes, and I knew this to be a joke, possibly to stir me from my nervousness, so I laughed.
    We sat at the table and drank our tea, which was not only strong but bitter. The scone was good, though, and the blaeberry jam just sweet enough to be an antidote to the tea.
    “Eli tells me you are to be two years at your uncle’s house,” Mrs. Stuart said.
    “Yes. Till my eighteenth birthday.” I found myself intensely curious about Eli, I was not sure why. Merely that he was the only other person I had talked to since I came, except for my uncle and aunt, of course, and Mrs. Kitteridge with the beringed fingers.
    “Eli was kind to bring me,” I said. “Does he live here with you?”
    “He has an addition to my house that he built for himself. We have a common wall. I can knock on it if I want him. He concerns himself about me, though there is no need. I am perfectly capable and sufficient unto