Somehow this chapter did not get posted. It's shorter than "The Healer" and "You Take Care of Me". I don't know if it was finished, but I'm posting it thought it's only about 1800 words.
Alia stood in the doorway of the bedroom watching Mathias sleep. He seemed more peaceful, except for his wretched coughing. His forehead felt less warm beneath her fingers, but the fever was still there. Maybe the penicillin was starting to work, a little, but why didn't he wake up?
She'd run into traditional healers in the various camps where she'd volunteered. She remembered a ten-year-old Kurdish boy who had a terrible fever and cough, but the healer who'd followed the group of Kurds from his village was not worried yet.
"See, you give him western medicine to fight the disease, but his body knows what to do. So, we keep an eye on him while he sleeps, and let him start to heal himself." He'd patted her on the back, "Don't worry, I will call you if he gets worse, but he probably won't. He's just resting and getting stronger, you'll see." Full of apprehension, sure the child was going to get pneumonia, she went back to her tent. In the morning, though, she saw that the old man was right. The fever had broken, and the little boy was able to eat a little gruel. In a week, he was out playing with his friends.
Mingan came up to her, and she put her arm around him. "I want you to come to the sing tonight," she told him, "But you must be on your best behavior. I don't want you back in your room, okay? He nodded solemnly, for the first time he had let her hug him.
Mathias' mother arrived at seven, carrying a long dress that smelled faintly musty. "I brought you a camp dress," she told her, "It belonged to my grandmother. Put it on and I'll braid your hair."
Alia went into the bathroom and removed the baggy dress she'd been wearing all day. Carefully, gently, she pulled on the dress. It was a dark blue calico printed with tiny white flowers and had been decorated with the tinfoil-like decorations, called "bells", that the native women used to decorate their dresses. It jingled softly as she moved, and suddenly, staring at her in the mirror was a Cheyenne woman from a hundred years ago. The illusion was gone in a moment, but she suddenly felt like Mathias's great grandmother approved of the woman wearing the dress.
She came out of the bathroom, feeling somehow less awkward than she did these days. Even Mathias's mother seemed to approve. "That dress flatters you," she said, "The color shows off your eyes. Sit, and I'll do your braids."
It felt good to be ministered to, she thought as Mathias' mother brushed her hair. It had gotten so long that she no longer bothered to braid it, but simply tied it back in a ponytail. Had her mother ever braided her hair like this? She'd always worn it long, but her mother would brush the shining brown locks and pulled it back with a hair tie or comb.
Janet finished her hair by tying fabric scraps to fasten her braids. "There," she said, "You almost look like you're part Cheyenne."
Just like in the mirror, she thought. "No, half Lebanese. We're so different, my brother looks very much like an Arab. People never believed we were brother and sister."
"Well, if there have ever been any Arabs around here, it's been so long that people don't remember it. I'm going to look in on my son. You sit and rest, the sing may make you more tired than you expect."
People began to arrive, more than she wished, but not so many as it seemed. Most she didn't know, but there were a few she recognized from the clinic. She was surprised to be grateful for them, she had felt alone (except for Eddie Big River) in dealing with Mathias' illness. She was a doctor who didn't like to be fussed over, but she found herself grateful for these smiling people who were so reassuring and gracious.
At eight o'clock, Reggie Smoke arrive, dressed simply in a denim shirt and black jeans. He went to her and put a strong arm around her shoulders—she felt a jolt of energy go through her that left her a little shaken. If that was an indication of his power, then she suddenly had faith that he was the one who would help her—and Mathias.
Reggie was very professional. He directed one of the men to bank up the fire and wrap Mathias in his blankets and lay him on the sofa. Without a word, the women went around the house turning out the lights, replacing them with a few pillar-like candles.
Mathias lay very still, almost like one dead, his color deathly pale in the light of the stove fire. Reggie ignored him for the moment and went through the cabin fumigating it with sage and sweet grass. Only then did he stand next to Mathias, raising his eagle feather fan, and lifting his arms began to chant.
He had brought two drummers with him, and the rhythm almost seemed like a heartbeat. Their beating formed a backdrop for Reggie's chanting, and they closed their eyes as the beat their drums, as if in their own world.
"He's inviting the spirits," Janet whispered to Alia, "The fumigating was to ban the evil spirits while the good spirits can answer his call." Alia squeezed her hand.
Mathias lay in a dream. There were flames all around him, that somehow did not burn him, but made him hot, unbearably hot. He wanted to find his way out but each step he tried to take burned him. The flames were making his chest hurt, and he felt his body growing weaker.
Alia looked around, furtively. The people in the room seemed to understand what was going on. Reggie was using rattles and eagle claw whistles, along with his chanting. At one point, Mathias began to cough, but Reggie put his hand on his chest and leaning close, whispered something to him. It seemed to calm him, though he did not open his eyes.
She needed Mathias conscious, awake. He could not take the antibiotics or the cough syrup if he was unconscious. She did not know what anyone else expected, but she wanted Mathias to wake up from this trance he seemed to be in.
Reggie's chanting grew stronger and his song changed. He seemed to be confronting an enemy that was fighting him for control of Mathias. The drumming grew louder. She had seen native rituals in many countries, but never a battle for a man's life that was going on now.
Some of the people were chanting along now with Reggie. She found herself praying, "Please, please let him wake up, help me make him well."
The chanting and drumming reached a crescendo. Mingan was watching, spellbound, she wondered if he'd ever seen something like this before.
Suddenly, drumming and chanting stopped, and Reggie dropped his arms, sweat pouring down his forehead.
And Mathias opened his eyes. He looked around, confused, as if wondering why the people were there. Then, he held out his hand the Alia, but she could barely move and had to be helped to his side. Then she was in his arms, crying, and weak though he was, he stroked his hair, soothing her.
They put him back in his bed, and someone took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and gave it to him. He drank, savoring the cool, clear liquid as he poured it down his throat.
"How long have I been out?" he asked softly as Alia put her hand on his damp forehead.
"A couple of days, you've had a very high fever." She kissed his him on his cheek, "You rest now, I'll come to bed after everyone leaves."
She went back into the living room. Reggie came and took her hand, "How is he?"
"His fever is broken. He's weak from lying in bed and not eating or drinking, but he's almost emptied out that water bottle, that's a good sign. He's passed the crisis point, now all I have to do is convince him to take his medicines and take it easy until he's better. I don't know how to thank you."
"Just put in a good word for me," he laughed gently, "I'm just starting out—you're my first official customer. Just let me know if I can do anything for you."
She went out into the living room to thank the people who had come. There was an air of acceptance now that hadn't been there before. Calling the medicine man had finally been sufficient proof that she respected their ways, along with the work she was doing. She had wanted acceptance, but hadn't expected it, now it had come to her.
Janet gave her a hug. "Keep the dress, it suits you. Make Mathias take care of himself, I've never seen him so sick. And you, you take care of yourself, too. You need to be strong for when the baby comes." She kissed her forehead, and left—at last everyone was gone, and she and Mathias were alone at lost.
She went into the bedroom where Mathias awaited her. He'd propped himself up with a couple pillows, and pulled the covers up to his chest. He held out his arms and she came to him, feeling just how tired she was now that it was all over.
She wanted to cry, but the tears would not come. Mathias held her tightly and she would have been happy to fall asleep where she was.
"That's great grandma's dress," he said, fingering the little bells.
"Your mother brought it for me to wear tonight, she's given it to me."
"It suits you. Want to get married in it?"
"No." She looked at him and grinned.
"So, doctor, what's next? How are you going to cure me?
"My brother in law sent some stuff. You've already had a shot of penicillin, but you'll take antibiotics for about five days. I ordered a bottle of cough syrup for you, and you're going to use it. You'll be better in a week. I don't really know what you had, I didn't do samples and all that…"
"You just knew how to treat it. You're good at what you do, Alia. I don't want to be sick again, but I know if it happens again, I'll be in good hands. This is just a lousy time for me to not be able to work."
"Do as you're told, and you'll be back soon enough. They can always call you. I'm just glad the worst is over."
"Me too," he answered, and kissed her hair. He loosened her braids and helped her remove her clothes. They couldn't make love, but it felt good to be together in their bed, holding each other.