Free Prized by Caragh M. O'brien Page A

wouldn’t understand. Have you seen her?”
    â€œI haven’t been allowed to,” Gaia said. “Do you know where she is?”
    He shook his head. “No. Is there something I can do for you?”
    â€œNorris told me to come see your garden,” she said. “We need some herbs for my midwifery, and I thought I could take a look. I already saw you have tansy and ginseng out by the road.”
    â€œPeter planted them. He brings back plants he finds sometimes. I’ll show you around,” he said.
    â€œI don’t want to interrupt, though,” she said, glancing at the shape he’d covered. “I can see you’re busy.”
    â€œIt can wait.”
    She couldn’t take her eyes from the blanket, for the distinctive shape of a profile was becoming clear through the material. Then she looked back at the box he’d been hammering. It was not a bit of wood for the addition as she’d assumed, but a coffin.
    She backed up a step. “I’m terribly sorry. I had no idea.”
    His smile grew strained. “It’s really all right. My client has an endless supply of patience. No one told you I was a morteur?”
    â€œNo.” She was still adjusting. He took care of bodies. She’d never thought of a young man as a morteur, but here he was. Now that she knew what to expect, she could smell in the barn, very faintly, the first hint of decay.
    â€œLet me show you the garden,” he said.

    Instead, she took a step farther in. She’d never seen her father buried, or her mother, and now she couldn’t resist her own attraction to the death in the barn.
    She was intrigued by how inexplicably familiar it felt. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Who died?”
    â€œJones Benny. He was a retired fisherman. He never had kids, but he and his nephews were very close. I always liked him. We’re having the service tomorrow up on the bluff, at dawn, because that was Benny’s favorite time of the day.”
    How she wished something like that had been done for her parents.
    â€œThat’s beautiful,” Gaia said.
    Will nodded, watching her attentively. “You’ve lost someone recently, haven’t you?” he said.
    She nodded mutely. Who, she wondered, had taken care of her parents? Were they dressed nicely? Did someone comb her mother’s hair?
    â€œWas there a burial?” he asked. “Were you there for it?”
    She shook her head. She kept looking at the blanket that covered the corpse, as if it might move, as if it were a mistake. She touched a hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.
    â€œPlease. Won’t you sit down?” he asked, gesturing to a bench by the wall.
    â€œIt’s been a big day,” she said tightly. “I’m afraid if I sit, I’ll never get up again.”
    â€œGive me just a minute to hitch up the wagon, and I’ll take you back to the lodge.”
    She didn’t want to go back. Not just yet. “I’m really fine.”
    â€œIf you’ll permit me, you’re not fine. When’s the last time you had a regular night’s sleep?”
    She tilted her face with a twist of her lips. “Good point.”
    His smile was slow and genuine. “You know,” he began, “you don’t need a gravesite to honor the person you lost.”
    â€œIt was my parents,” she said.
    â€œYour parents, then,” he said quietly. “Do you have anything from them?”
    â€œMy locket.” She realized she already reached for it often when she thought of her mother or father. It comforted her. She rubbed it slowly along its chain, back and forth. “It was a gift for my midwifery. I think it would be nice to have something different, though. Final. Something to honor them, like you said.”
    â€œSuppose you pick a time that’s special to you,” Will said. “You can keep that moment sacred for them. I