--1--
The sky shone gray above Pastor Richmond and Amanda as they walked along the path behind the church towards the woods. He listened as she told him about Samantha’s crying spell when she left the candy for her on the windowsill. “I think anything strawberry related reminds her of a safe place or experience in her past.”
“You may be onto something there.” His steps were slower than usual that morning and his joints ached from foretelling some form of precipitation coming up soon. He didn’t think it would be snow, but rather a light, dismal rain to match the heavens.
“I wonder if I’m being counterproductive with her.”
“How so?”
The sound of a squirrel throwing down a nut from a tree could be heard as she took time to think about her answer. As the silence stretched, it made Pastor Richmond wonder if she had forgotten the question. “I don’t know. In Dr. Thompson’s notes, it’s just listed about giving her strawberry jam sandwiches wrapped in a napkin. Now she’s digging, planted a strawberry so it can grow, painted a pot, and cried over candy. I’ve also talked to her about marking off days on a calendar to let her know which days her plant will need water.”
“How is her overall response?”
“She said three words in a row to me.”
Pastor Richmond’s eyes lit up as he remembered the way she seemed to enjoy digging. “There. You see? She’s progressing.”
“Her hair is horrible. I would like to have it evened out for her at the very least, yet don’t know how she would react if she saw scissors. Better to keep it the way it is than risk a setback.”
“Well. Why don’t you ask her?”
Amanda thought about the rest of the strawberries she had on the passenger seat in her car. “I could do that when we make jam today. I still have strawberries that need to be used up.”
“She’ll probably enjoy that a lot.”
Amanda’s feet stopped on the trail and she burst out laughing. Her obsession with strawberries was becoming an absurdity. She buckled over as she envisioned Samantha holding a Strawberry Shortcake baby doll and squeezing its middle so it would blow strawberry-scented kisses at her while she was tied to a chair. “With the way things are going with Samantha, I’ll be arrested for blowing up a shipment of strawberries.”
Given her character, Pastor Richmond was surprised to hear the sound coming from her mouth and nearly fell over when she made a joke. He wondered how often she laughed in front of Daniel and for what reasons. He also wondered if she knew she had a deep, unbidden funny streak that showed in her most serious moments. He chose his next words carefully. “Amanda, that is funny. I want to laugh with you, but I don’t want you to think I’m laughing at you.”
Amanda sobered. “I’m sorry. I just had an image.”
Pastor Richmond smiled. “Laughter is healing and clears an overburdened mind. You may want to consider trying to laugh more.”
She let his words sink in. Daniel laughed and smiled a lot. It was something she never gave much thought to and was dismissive towards him about it. If anything, she should not have to be told something like that, and began to wonder how much she laughed or smiled outside of what she found in a book. “I’ve been thinking differently lately.”
“That’s not a bad thing, Amanda,” David said walking over to examine the bark on the slender trunk of a red maple tree. He beckoned to Amanda and asked if she knew anything about it. When she shook her head, he explained everything from the leaves to the seeds was some degree of red. “They are also called scarlet maples.”
“You know a lot about trees.”
He chuckled softly. “I find the hobby relaxing and peaceful.” He snapped off a small twig and examined it. “Getting back to you thinking differently, Christ says one will be transformed by the renewal of the mind.”
“I’m sorry, Pastor Richmond, but I don’t believe – “
He interrupted her. “In a silly book of verses or a made-up savior who was found guiltless?”
“Both.”
“Yet here you are, admitting to change. Why don’t you come to a service? It may give you a sense of peace among the turmoil.”
A brief flash of crowded pews caused her to blanch. Her voice lost its life and became as stiff as the frozen soil. “I’d rather not.”
The sudden change in her character saddened him. “The choir practices on Monday and Thursday from 7:00 until 9:00.”
Amanda gave it some thought. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea. It made her wonder if the singers would sound similar to the harmonizing music Daniel sometimes played when Robert stayed for more than two days and she could read a book to pass the time. It also made her wonder why she didn’t listen to music more as well as when the last time she and Daniel had gone to an orchestra. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
--2--
The sound of young tears permeated the steady beat of falling rain on the hut’s thatched roof. The language was foreign and distant as Katie tried to catch an idea of the conversation even though she didn’t know what was being said. She stood in the doorframe and watched as a child of about ten sobbed next to a form sprawled out on the ground while another member of the Ytuwa tribe tried to pull her away.
The dark body was ashen in the sultry atmosphere while drops of water bounced off its skin and made Katie wonder what was going on. “Denise. Come here.”
Denise’s exaggerated yawn filled the domain as her flimsy cot protested her movement. Katie heard the shift, followed by feet being planted on the wooden floor. “What’s up?”
“It looks like a tribe member can’t get up. What were those two guys saying the other day about a disease?”
The cot seemed to shriek as Denise got up and joined her friend. She stood on the other side of the doorway and watched as two more Ytuwa women joined the small group and assisted the one lying on the ground to her feet. She could barely walk even with the support and her unhinged jaw released an insane sounding bray which caused the girls to shudder. “Do you think it’s the laughing sickness?”
Denise’s mouth opened and closed as she fought for words. “I don’t know,” she said in a voice soft enough to mirror Katie’s question.
The other night, they had been joined by a couple of Evangelicals who soon warmed up to Katie when she mentioned her father was a Lutheran pastor. Unlike World Horizons, theirs was a mission to save and preach the gospel through an interpreter they had managed to hire. She listened as they explained how the Ytuwa were being punished because of their past sins which involved the consumption of their deceased. Katie shuddered. “Why would they do that?”
The two men exchanged a look. “Well,” the one began slowly. “They stopped back in the late ‘50s and early ‘60s because a scientist figured out what it was that was killing them.”
Katie’s eyebrows rose skeptically. It sounded like the type of horrific tale a parent would tell one’s kid to keep him or her in bed at night. “I find that hard to believe.”
The other man nodded. “It’s true. Some form of Cruetzfeldt-Jakob disease which affects the nervous system. Then around 1961, it was linked to eating infected brain matter. Now it’s known as Kuru, because of the shaking it causes in an individual. The incubation period is very long. Anywhere from ten to thirty years, if not more.”
Denise’s ears perked up. “So what you’re saying, is there are still people here who have it. Is it contagious?”
They shook their heads. “Not unless you eat a piece of infected brain.”
No longer hungry, Katie put her plate on the ground. “Do you know why they ate dead people?”
“The interpreter said it was to show respect. They felt it best to eat their family instead of putting them in a hole for the bugs and elements. The women were also the ones who were thought of as being better to contain any demons the person may have had, so they ate most of the brain while the men were given more of the fleshy regions.”
Katie felt sick then grew pale. Her father had been to Papua New Guinea and had lived among the Ytuwa for half a year when he was in his late twenties. She did the math in her head and learned his time of dwelling among them was on the cusp of mortuary cannibalism. It made her wonder if he did witness a funeral. “I’m going to throw up.”
She got up quickly and walked down the dark path. It reminded her of her father’s warning about how starlight is useless if there is no moon, so she stopped by the first tree she felt. Her hand shook as she touched the bark before using it to steady herself then leaned over and wretched. She heard the snap of a branch and hoped it was from the fire they had built earlier. If anything, the sound invoked enough fear to settle her stomach and sent a chill down her spine.
Katie waited for the blood to stop pounding in her ears and listened closely for the sound of slithering. The last thing she wanted was for her father to learn was of her dying from a snake bite due to carelessness. The muffled voices of the men beckoned her and were soothing enough to calm her rattled nerves as she made her way back where she took her spot beside Denise. “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” Katie said. “I think the heat is getting to me.”
One of the Evangelicals looked at his watch. “It’s only 8:42. You figure it would still be light.”
The climate was something Katie was still adapting to. On one hand, the days seemed longer because back home it was dark before 6:00 now. On the other, they were going into summer and entering the rainy season. February seemed an eternity away and she hoped she could stick it out.
Coming out of her memory, Katie asked, “What did you think about all that talk about eating their dead?”
Denise shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought we were here to see what we could do to help, but maybe we should ask Dr. Timmons or Dr. West about it.”
They continued to watch as the laughing woman was led away. The brown garment she was wearing hung loosely on her wasted frame exposing the deep outline of her collar bones and sharp shoulders. Her facially proud demeanor was attached to a neck too weak to support it. The young girl clung tightly to the woman who had helped her up and followed the others back to their hut. “Jesus.”
Katie swiped at the tears which had managed to find her cheeks. “Let’s go look for them.”
Denise nodded. “The sooner the better.”
--3--
Dr. Blake stood in the cafeteria hulling the remaining strawberries while Samantha smashed them on a plate with a fork. When they were finished, Amanda was surprised to see they had about a cup of mashed berry to work with. She dumped it in a small saucepan added a cup of sugar, two teaspoons of lemon juice, and mixed it on low heat until the sugar was melted in.
Samantha hovered over the pot and watched Dr. Blake stir. It made her wonder if she would have to smack her patient’s hand for trying to put it in the pot. The last thing she wanted was to have Samantha being treated for scalding herself. “I need the plate, Sam.” After the jam was brought to a boil, Amanda stirred it often for at least ten minutes before putting some on the plate. “We need to put this in the freezer to see if it’s ready to put in the jar.”
Samantha seemed to guard the freezer while Dr. Blake watched the second hand on her watch complete a full circle. She took it out and had Samantha run her finger through it. As she stuck it in her mouth, Dr. Blake saw the white bottom of the plate poking through the streak. “Good.”
Dr. Blake looked at Samantha. “We can put this in the jar and refrigerate it.”
Samantha waited patiently while Dr. Blake turned off the stove. In truth, she felt a sense of triumph in Samantha’s response and added basic cooking to the list as something else to do with the patients. They could help with simple things like buttering bread or filling ice cube trays. It also made her wonder why it had taken her so long to see how much wealth in the facility was available regarding the patients. She also wanted to talk to Pamela and ask her about leading a story hour for them.
Dr. Blake gave Samantha a spoon and held the pot at an angle for her so she could get it in the jar. Her hands were clumsy as she seemed to try her best to get it inside the glass container. Dr. Blake was observant to see if Samantha would show any signs of breaking down as she did over the candy. Instead, she just licked the jam off her wrist as it ran down from the spoon. When she was finished, Dr. Blake wiped off the mouth of the jar and screwed on the lid. She rinsed it off and put it in the refrigerator and then went back to Samantha with a couple of washcloths so they could clean the counter.
Like when she was digging, Samantha’s approach to cleaning the surface was methodical. Dr. Blake rinsed their washrags so they could make one final pass then put the pot in the sink to soak with the few dishes. She took the jar of jam out of the sink and led Samantha back to her room.
“Strawberries,” she said showing Dr. Blake the calendar and pointing to the next day.
“Yes,” she nodded. “You water your plant tomorrow.”
Samantha beamed before sitting down on her bed and tucking her legs into an Indian-style position. Dr. Blake approached the foot of her bed. “Sam, would you like a haircut?”
Samantha shuddered and looked down. Her frame sagged in a combination of sadness and defeat as a hand stole up to feel her shorn head. “No cut.”
“It’s OK, Sam,” Dr. Blake said as her patient’s chest began to hitch. “You’ve got to water your strawberries tomorrow.”
Samantha perked up. “Water strawberries.”
She went back to looking at the plain calendar she had been given and touched symmetric squares. Her voice was almost as sweet as the jam they had just made as she made note of which days her plant needed to be watered and which days it didn’t. Dr. Blake turned and left to look for Pamela.
“Yes, Dr. Blake?”
“I would like to speak to you.”
Pamela was coming out of a room when she spied Dr. Blake. The look on the medical director’s face said as much about wanting to speak with her. She nodded and followed her to her office. Amanda touched the back of one of the chairs in front of her desk for Pamela then poured her a glass of water. She sat down and folded her hands in her lap. Although she was no closer to feeling relaxed in her superior’s presence, she didn’t feel the overall looming sense of dread. Dr. Blake seemed to be changing in small ways that came out in overall interest for the patients. “Pamela, I’d like you to start a story hour with the patients. I’m thinking two days a week, preferably consecutively so it’ll be easier to see if there is some benefit. Preferably after lunch because they’ll be quieter, from 1:30 to 2:30 and if they respond well, we can discuss adding more days.”
Pamela’s mouth opened and closed as she wondered once again who was the stranger who replaced Dr. Blake. “I…I…”
Dr. Blake rolled her eyes. “If you don’t want to or know someone else who would rather do it –“
“Of course I’ll do it, Dr. Blake!” Pamela calmed down as a look of surprise swept over the medical director’s face. She blushed and took a deep breath to gain control of her excitement. “I think the patients would benefit from being read to.”
Dr. Blake nodded. “Thank you, Pamela. I’ll have a book for you by Monday. Please continue.”
Pamela hesitated. “May I ask what type of books?”
“Books like the Chronicles of Narnia, Little House on the Prairie, and A Wrinkle in Time. Beverly Cleary is a good author as well. I want to keep them on a child’s level, but not with picture books. Dr. Suess would be insulting.”
Pamela nodded before retreating. She managed to make it to the end of the hall and out of what she hoped was earshot before laughing. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought Dr. Blake was being funny in regards to the picture book reference. She never would have thought the medical director was familiar with the list she had rattled off with ease. Pamela returned to the nurse’s station with a lighter step and sat down behind the desk.
