Free Fever Moon by Carolyn Haines Page A

Iberia Parish, and the rest of the country, the yoke of domesticity rested firmly on the woman’s shoulders.
    Smoke rose from Madame Louiselle’s chimney and Chula felt a pulse of excitement. Madame had begun to teach her the ways of the
traiteur
, the healer, and each encounter with the older woman brought something new into her life. Chula had discovered an innate ability to sense illness. Part of it was her willingness to listen, to truly hear what lay beyond words. She’d come to believe, though, that another part was a gift. Madame had convinced her of that and was helping her learn to accept and hone her talent.
    She picked up the letter from California off the car seat and hurried up the steps of the cabin. She was about to knock on the door when it opened. Madame put a finger to her lips and drew Chula inside.
    The room was too hot, stifling for such a lovely October afternoon. She was about to protest the heat when she saw the form of a young woman on the sofa, the firelight flickering over her sleeping features. At first she didn’t recognize Adele, but when she did, she raised her eyebrows. She’d heard the talk that Adele had been spirited away from the jail—that Raymond was protecting her, for some unknown reason. Chula knew why. For all that Raymond had lost of himself, he was still a man who defended the helpless.
    For a time, just out of high school, Chula had believed she loved Raymond. Believed it enough to yield to the hot passion that jumped between them. She felt a smile touch her lips. Those were good memories to cling to when seasons passed and no man sparked her interest. The thing between her and Raymond, though, had been, ultimately, a joining of two minds that could not abide injustice. When the passion had burned away, a bond of friendship as strong as love had remained. At least until the war, when Raymond returned a shell of the man she’d known.
    “Chula?”
    For a moment Chula had forgotten where she was, or who lay before her in a sweating coma. “Madame, what is this?”
    “It’s an unusual case, Chula. Like none I’ve seen.”
    Chula stepped closer to the sick woman. “Will she live?”
    “I haven’t been able to break the fever, but it’s reduced. I lit a fire to ward off the chills.” Madame’s voice was in a low register, barely a ripple of noise.
    “Fever?” Images of the most recent epidemic came to mind. Delivering the mail, Chula had seen funeral after funeral, coffins nailed shut by doctor’s orders against the spread of illness. Some said it came from mosquitoes, others said it was a sickness in the swamp water, and others believed it was bad humors from an evil spirit. Chula and her mother had escaped illness, but many lives had been lost.
    “It isn’t the yellow jack.” Madame’s dark eyes held Chula’s, telling her not to be afraid. “This is something else. Want to examine her?”
    Chula nodded. She did want a closer look. She stepped over to the sleeping woman and took in the paleness of her skin, the purple rings beneath her eyes, the way her hands and feet twitched like a sleeping dog.
    She touched Adele’s forehead and felt the dry, hot fire that burned within her.
    “She had a seizure this morning and bled from the nose. She lost a lot of blood before I could stop it with cold compresses.” Madame stood beside Chula.
    “Has she regained consciousness?”
    Madame shook her head. “I thought she might, but she slips back into her sleep. She doesn’t want to leave her dreams and return to this world.”
    Chula touched one of Adele’s jerking hands and held it firmly. She felt the tremors that pulsed through Adele’s flesh as an electric current might. Chula inhaled sharply and looked at Madame, who only nodded.
    Chula’s hands moved up Adele’s arms, touching, pressing, sensing. As her hands explored, she tried to clear her mind to register the sensations she felt. Adele’s muscles were strung taut, defying the appearance that she slept.