Eustace folded her arms. “Did our aunt have these headaches too?”
His smile puckered like it was screwed on. “Your aunt suffered debilitating migraines on the rare occasion she left her property. As did her father before her. Though I understand some in the family experienced other symptoms—clonic seizures, persistent emesis, serious arrhythmias, dangerous asthma attacks, and so on. Your uncle Claude, for example, was given to fits of such severe bronchospasms that he nearly died on two occasions. One when he attempted to go into town. Another when he wandered past the property line by accident during a walk in the woods.”
Cordelia felt her own airway tighten. “Our mother had the same headaches.”
“I am not surprised,” he continued. “How she lasted as long as she did is a mystery I would truly like to unravel. Within it lies the seed to understanding your family’s unique affliction.”
“You’ll pardon me if I don’t quite understand,” Eustace said. “It sounds like you’re saying you don’t medically know what’s wrong with us, but that all these disparate symptoms are somehow connected.”
Dr. Mabee slid a hand into the pocket of his coat. “That is precisely what I’m saying, Ms. Bone. And your reaction is not unlike my own when I first took over here for Dr. Welsh—a fine practitioner I had much respect for. I won’t pretend to know what’s at the core of your family’s issues. I have taken blood samples and performed as many perfunctory tests as possible, but I have only been allowed to prod so far. Nothing has proven revelatory. And it has not been my job to unravel your condition, but to treat it.”
“And how have you treated it?” Cordelia asked. “I’ve been prescribed medication, but the effects are limited.”
Dr. Mabee frowned. “Not surprising. I would assume that even if it is working now, the disease will eventually overcome the cure. My treatment, Ms. Bone, is simple enough. Have you ever heard the old saying about telling the doctor it hurts when you do this and the doctor then replying not to do that?”
Both sisters nodded.
“It’s that basic. A prescription of strict adherence to the confines of your own property. Think of it as modified bed rest,” he told her.
“You’re telling us not to leave the estate?” Cordelia was baffled. Were the town rumors true? Had their mother suffered needlessly because of a stubborn refusal to return home?Blood and soil,she recalled with disquiet.
But that did not explain the headaches she’d experiencedonthe property. She’d felt relief on the drive to Bone Hill, but that was shattered when she saw Morna on the stairs. And she’d suffered headaches when her sister was locked in the bathroom and during the funeral outside the crypt.
“Yes. That’s exactly it in a nutshell. On-site, you will find your energy and health restored, your symptoms will fade entirely, and you will excel in all manner of well-being. Off-site, there is little I can do for you.” He looked grave.
“But…” Cordelia looked into his face. “You don’t understand. I’m still having headaches.Here.Not just when I run errands. At the house. On the grounds. Worse than before. More painful, less predictable. They’re… changing.”
Dr. Mabee gripped her head and began palpating her skull, fingers prodding like sniffing dogs. Fully convinced everythingoutsideher head was normal, he dropped his hands. “That simply cannot be.”
Eustace glared at him. “But it is. You heard her.”
He shook his head worriedly, wringing his hands. “With everyone else in your family, I had only to come by twice a year to record vitals and give a routine exam. And though I was available for more, I must tell you, in all those years, I was rarely needed for it.”
“You’re saying they didn’t get sick?” Cordelia clarified. “Not a cold, not a stomach bug—as long as they were on the property?”
“No,” he told her. “Not a cold. Not a stomach bug.”
“But our aunt died,” Eustace countered. “Upstairs.Gordon made it sound like she suffered a stroke. If the property is so damn good for us, then how did she pass? And why are my sister’s headaches getting worse instead of better?”
Dr. Mabee lifted his brows. “I saw no signs of a stroke,” he told them, tucking Cordelia’s blood samples into his bag. “However, the natural course of life cannot be altered. There is pregnancy and its many issues to contend with, though I am told that most of your female relatives experienced little problem with that, home births being the order of the day. The occasions when that was not observed, unfortunately, were not so productive.
“And you will age, of course, and experience the usual decline of the body, though if your aunt is any indication, you should find yourself stronger than most throughout that process. And yes, you will die, like the rest of your family members. A sudden and easy passing, painless and without months of anguish and waste. At least, that’s how it should be.” He glanced at Cordelia, apologetic. “Why it’s not so for you, I cannot say. Perhaps your time away has altered the condition’s expression in some way.”
Cordelia pressed on the cotton ball tucked into her elbow.
“So that’s it?” Eustace asked. “We should be fine until we die as long as we don’t leave but maybe not and there’s nothing you can do or say about it?”
The doctor leveled a cool gaze at her. “I suggest, Ms. Bone, if you are so curious about your family’s syndrome and how it is or is not impacting your sister, that you seek answers among them. I have told you all that I know. I will run some tests, but my abilities are limited where the two of you are concerned.” He added in a low voice. “It is my observation that your family has certainabilitiesof their own. Perhaps it is time you employ those.”
“You’re telling me to ask the dead?” Eustace was apoplectic.
“And if we seek a second opinion?” Cordelia asked, taking a cup of tea.
“I don’t recommend it,” he said bluntly. “The risk will far outweigh the benefit. But of course, it’s up to you.”
“My sister has cancer,” she divulged.
“Cordy!” Eustace gasped.
