TFRoot - The Elixer

by The Elixir (v1. 0) [lit]

  "Mommy!” the high-pitched voice of a seven-year old child cried out insistently from upstairs. “It's hurting again, Mommy!"

  "Mommy will be right there!” Lucinda reached across the table for another tin, which was much larger and painted a solid red. She got up from the table, with the red tin, and walked over to the cupboard, where she took a small mug, then opened the drawer and took another teaspoon. She meticulously measured out one teaspoonful of the dried contents of the red tin into the mug. Then she walked over to the fireplace, where her large cast iron pot was suspended over the burning fire, and ladled water which had been boiling in the pot into the mug, filling it almost to the brim. She gave it a firm stir with the teaspoon and then ascended the stairs.

  "Here you are, my dear,” she said gently as she entered her own bedroom and walked over to the bed, where a small boy was lying in obvious pain, awkwardly contorting his little body this way and that in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position. Lucinda knelt down next to the bed. “Come on, now, sit up!” she commanded him gently, propping up his head. She tenderly stroked the side of his face. “This will make you feel better,” she said, offering him the mug.

  "What is it?"

  "Silly goose, what do you think? It's what I've been giving you since you first took ill."

  "Yuck!” the little boy exclaimed, turning his head. “That's yucky!"

  "Sometimes we have to take yucky things so we feel better; you know that. Drink!” The boy took the mug from her and took a sip. “There now,” said Lucinda soothingly, “that wasn't so bad, was it?"

  "It was worse!” he exclaimed, sticking out his tongue.

  Lucinda chuckled. “Your father never liked it, either. You do have to finish it, though, or it won't work. Come now, you only have a little more to go."

  The boy obeyed his mother and drained the mug.

  There we are. How do you feel now? Does it still hurt?"

  "A little bit, but not as much."

  "Good. It takes a while for it to take effect, you know, but it will keep getting better.”Until next time , she thought glumly. “Here, let Mommy examine you. Lie down, straight, on your back.” The boy did as Lucinda asked. Lucinda began to manually examine his abdomen, gently but firmly feeling and pressing various spots.

  "Ow!” he exclaimed, recoiling from her touch. “Don't push so hard!That hurts!"

  "I'm sorry, dear, but I have to do this to help you. I'll try not to do it too hard; you have to be a brave little soldier."

  The little boy brightened. “Just like King Henry and his knights against the French, right Mommy?"

  Lucinda smiled. “Yes, exactly.” She narrowed her eyes. “And where was that?"

  "At Agincourt, of course."

  "And the year?"

  "1415."

  "Good boy!” Lucinda fairly burst with pride as she regarded her son. Richard would have been so proud of him. Such a beautiful child, and so smart! He's like a little sponge. He soaks up everything, all the stories I tell or read to him.She sighed.Of course, that's about all he's been able to do for two months now, just lie in bed and listen to me.

  Lucinda and Richard's son had been born in the spring of 1693, only a few short months after the death of his father. She had named him Samuel Matthias, which had been Richard's father's name; they had decided on it together, actually, when Lucinda had first become pregnant. Born after an easy labor, Samuel had been a preternaturally healthy and good-natured infant, and had fairly thrived since then. He was a robust child; strong and always very well-developed yet perfectly-proportioned for his age, and of course fine-looking as well, the very image of his father, with the sole exception of his eyes, those luminous, impossibly expressive blue orbs which could have been Lucinda's own. Predictably, the boy had become the light of her life; he had probablysaved her life, if truth be told, entering it when he did, at a time when Lucinda was still trapped in the depths of despair over the loss of the only man she had ever allowed herself to love. Now, she had found herself in love again, not in the same way, of course, but with just as much depth and passion. In Richard, she had found her soulmate, only to be separated from him by a cruel quirk of fate, their union destined, so outrageously unfairly, to be all-too-brief. Still, it had endured long enough to produce this child, this marvelous little creature who would grow into a man every bit as extraordinary as his father, and who would be with her, and give her such happiness and joy, forever, courtesy of the elixir. As the years went on, and her beautiful boy was growing and blossoming into a fine little man, the agony of losing Richard, while never completely disappearing, was actually becoming muted.Perhaps all is not lost, after all!

  Then, suddenly, without warning, it had happened. It started late one cold evening, in January of the year 1701, when he had awakened her, complaining of nausea. Lucinda had thought little of it at the time; it was just an upset stomach, not unusual for a little boy. Besides, he had been given the elixir, tiny cups of it had in fact washed down his first few months of meals upon being weaned, so there could be no real cause for concern. Lucinda had given him a blend of spearmint and peppermint tea with honey that helped him get to sleep, thinking nothing more of it. But the symptoms had never gone away, and had only worsened. Young Samuel began eating less and less, often vomiting and complaining of a burning sensation in his throat. Lucinda dipped into her seemingly inexhaustible supply of herbs, but nothing seemed to work. In short order the vigorous, sturdy boy had become weak and frail, completely bedridden. It was then that Lucinda had performed a physical examination, and the source of his malaise had become chillingly apparent. To someone with Lucinda's experience and knowledge of human anatomy, the diagnosis was as undeniable as it was shocking: her son had a cancer growing inside of him. Not only that, it must be growing very rapidly; the pain he was feeling was probably from a tumor pressing on a nerve, a sign of an advanced disease.

  Now, over the course of her own life, even fortified with the elixir, taken at the dawn of each century, Lucinda had had to deal with more than a few illnesses. Some of them had been seemingly quite serious, in fact. In any event, they would surely have left contemporary practitioners of medicine at a complete loss. On every such occasion though, after exhausting all of her other options, she had simply taken a little more of the elixir, brewed from the dried flowers of that priceless plant, and it had never failed to work its magic; except once, of course, and surely that had been a fluke. Richard's belly wound had somehow made it impossible for him to digest the elixir, its curative powers unable to enter his body.Surely that was nothing like this. Then, why? She had been giving Samuel the elixir every day now for six weeks and yet ... nothing!

  Lucinda continued probing the boy's stomach. Unfortunately, what she felt did nothing to lift her spirits.Not only is it still there, it's getting worse! I can hardly discern the separate organs anymore; it just feels like a tangled mass of mixed-up tissue. WHY ISN'T THE ELIXIR WORKING? I can't understand this !

  "I guess I'm just not an angel anymore,” Samuel said, with a hint of sadness in his voice.

  "Now Samuel, why would you ever say something like that? You shall always bemy little angel!"

  "But I've lost my halo."

  Lucinda glanced across the room at the large mirror that was opposite the bed, observing her own reflection and that of her son. Try as she might she was unable to disguise the terror in her eyes. Samuel's aura, which had been steadily weakening ever since he had first taken ill, had now completely vanished.

  "What's the matter, Mommy?"

  "Nothing, my dear,” she said, lying. “You're doing just fine."

  "You still have yours, Mommy."

  "That's because Mommy isn't sick now. But don't worry; you'll have your halo again, just as soon as you get better."

  "When will that be?” Samuel asked, sighing impatiently. “It seems like I've been sick forever."

  "I know,” Lucinda said soothingly, patting his hand.

  A thought crossed his mind.
“Mommy,” he asked, his mood suddenly brightening, “will I be better in time for my birthday next month?” He grinned with anticipation, his eyes lighting up as only a little boy's can.

  Lucinda struggled to maintain her composure. “I do hope so, darling. Mommy can't say for sure. But youare going to get better."

  "Promise?"

  "Promise,” Lucinda answered, trying not to let him see her swallow hard. “How doesthat feel now?” she asked, pressing once again on his abdomen. “Does it still hurt?"

  "No, Mommy."

  "You see, my darling,” she said with forced cheeriness, “the medicine is working.”Well, at least I am able to control the pain with one of my other preparations . “Would you like me to make you something to eat?"

  "No ... not now."

  "You haven't had anything all day, you know,” she said, in a mildly scolding tone.

  "I know ... maybe later.” He frowned. “I'm just not hungry now, Mommy."

  "Very well, then,” said Lucinda, not wanting to press the issue. “You get some rest then.” She bent over and kissed her son on the forehead. “I'll check on you in a little while.” With that she left the bedroom and went back downstairs.

  Suddenly, a terrible thought crossed her mind:What if the cancer has already eaten a hole in his stomach? That would explain the pain ... and maybe this is like what happened to his father—his body is not digesting the elixir! No, that can't be, because he's definitely digesting what I'm giving him for he pain. It must be something else....

  Lucinda paced about the downstairs of her house, wracking her brain trying to determine why what has happening was happening, or more precisely, why it was not, but no plausible explanation was forthcoming.What to do, then? I just have to keep giving him the elixir and hope that things turn around. Another thought entered her mind. Is it possible I haven't been giving him enough of it? Perhaps that's it ! She raced across the room to the table where she had been reviewing all of her herbs, including the one used to brew the elixir. Then once again she was struck by the cold reality—it was running out. She glanced out the window at the bleak, still-wintry landscape.Will spring ever come? Damn this place! Back in England those most precious flowers had always seemed to bloom more predictably. While they sometimes had come in a year or two early, they had never, ever beenlate ; that is, they had never been later than the first year—or the last year, depending your perspective—of any given century. Yet, here it was 1701, and while the plants had seemed to take well enough to the New England soil, they had yet to bloom.Is it possible then that they never will? It was of slight consequence, anyway; even if they were to come this year the flowers of the elixir never came until just before the summer solstice, and by then surely it will be too late...

  Richard's old cat, Phantom, rubbed up against Lucinda's leg, mewing softly but insistently, wanting to be stroked. Lucinda bent down to oblige him, as she always did. She had become very attached to this animal which had belonged to her beloved husband, his little companion on those sea voyages of so long ago. “Hello, my little Phantom,” Lucinda said, gently stroking his head with one hand while allowing him to nuzzle the other. Lucinda noticed that Phantom had sprouted another white whisker where there once had been only black, and that his once lustrous coat was growing a bit dull.So sad to see him growing old . She had often contemplated giving him the elixir, too, especially now that Richard was gone, even though the supply was so precious and limited under ideal conditions.True, he's only a cat, and some might see that a terrible waste ... on the other hand he's so small, he wouldn't need very much of it ... Suddenly an ingenious concept crossed her mind.No! That would be a pure abomination! Lucinda tried to shake the thought, but it just would not go away. There was no doubt that she could do it; she had before. She could still hear the words of her dear friend the late Dr. Bloodworth echoing in her brain: just because we possess the knowledge..."

  Lucinda sat down at the table. Once again she began to measure the contents of the white tea tin with the purple flowers; once again, it measured out exactly as it had each and every time before. There was maybe enough left to brew one pot every night for about three days, definitely not enough to have any lasting affect on a human, even a small child ... but maybe enough for a cat! Her blood ran cold as she realized that she was beyond merely considering it; she was actually going to go through with it.It's my darling Samuel's only hope , she reasoned.It's my only hope . Lucinda cleared the table and then began to methodically assemble all the various ingredients. After she had lined them up orderly, in the precise sequence they would be used, she got up and located Phantom. “Come, on old boy,” she said softly, reaching down and taking him up into her arms. Phantom squirmed uncomfortably, as if he were sensing that something untoward was about to transpire.I can only pray that St. Francis was wrong , she thought, hoping that a four-legged creature had no soul, or at least one that could be saved.If not, whither my own? Then, she recognized soberly that this issue had already been decided. She had made her choice a long, long time ago. Now she would have to live with it.

  Samuel Matthias Hobson died the very next morning, and was buried in the churchyard of St. George's church, next to Richard. There was a simple graveside service, attended by only a handful of mourners, including Lucinda, who brought along her husband's arthritic, old black cat, which she clutched in her arms throughout. Being a rather unusual thing to do, this made the other mourners a bit uncomfortable. Accordingly, they tended to avert their eyes from the cat, or to look at him without really seeing. Had anyone observed him critically, however, they might well have noticed that he seemed more alert than he had been in years ... his coat was as black and lustrous as ever ... and his eyes were no longer green, but rather a very deep, very beautiful shade of blue.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "Hello, Tom!” said Lucinda cheerily as Tom answered the door at precisely seven o'clock, the time they had agreed upon. She was attired dramatically, in a hooded black cape with a silk purple lining, so long that it practically brushed the floor, which she shed with an elegant flourish to reveal a black jacket with a matching black skirt over a purple blouse.

  "Come in, Lucy,” said Tom. “Let me take that for you,” he said politely, taking the cape from her and heading over to the hall closet to hang it up.

  Lucinda walked through the foyer and into the living room of her Cape Cod. “My papers are in there,” she said, turning around to Tom. “The ones I want you to look at after dinner."

  Tom noticed that the breast pocket of the cape contained a large manila envelope, which he removed before hanging up the cape. He held up the envelope. “Is this what you mean?” Lucinda nodded, and he handed it to her. “Please, sit,” said Tom. Lucinda sat down on the couch in the living room, in front of which was a coffee table on which Tom had set up a few snacks to munch on before dinner. Lucinda put the envelope on the table and spread some soft cheese on a cracker.

  "Would you care for something to drink?” asked Tom.

  "No, thank you, actually I think I'll wait for dinner."

  Tom sat down next to Lucinda on the couch. “Oh!” he exclaimed, quite startled, as his eyes suddenly met those of Sammy who was sitting silently and motionless next to Lucinda, who apparently had carried him in with her completely unnoticed under her cape, his black coat blending in perfectly with her jacket. “I didn't realize that we weren't alone,” he offered by way of explanation.

  "I took the liberty of bringing Sammy along, since what I want to discuss with you concerns him as well.” Sammy mewed softly as Lucinda gently stroked his back. “So, how did everything go in New York?” asked Lucinda pleasantly, taking another cracker.

  "Very well, thank you."

  Tom's real estate purchasing plan had worked out quite well, in fact. The owner of the house in Manhasset had been very eager to sell quickly and had jumped at the offer, and Tom and Carole had closed two weeks later, the first week in September. The furniture and other items from their Hollywood tow
nhouse that they had placed in storage had been shipped up, and they had moved in right away. Carole, along with Yukon, was there now, and she was happily occupying herself with the task of setting up and decorating her new home. Tom, meanwhile, had returned to Barnstable. The lease on Lucinda Hobson's house was set to expire at the end of this month, and he had to pack up what remained of the items they had brought here and bring them back to New York

  "So, it's just the three of us tonight, then?"

  "Yes."

  Tom did not especially relish being apart from Carole, even if only for a few days, but he had insisted that she remain behind at the new house. Old habits died hard: although her health had been just fine for months now, Tom still had not completely abandoned his general mindset of protecting his wife from physical overexertion, and he had wanted to spare her from another four-hour drive and from some of the chores of packing. Another consideration had been Yukon. They had brought him with them to Carole's sister in New Jersey and had left him with her while they had gone over to Gene Daniel's house on Long Island, so it had seemed equally unfair to either leave him there any longer or to subject him to yet another long car trip.