He winked at Alison on his way back over. Alison thought of the man she had met just a few weeks ago when she first arrived at Herot’s Hollow, of how he had been trapped in the trauma and pain of his past, and of how far he had come since then.
She was unbelievably proud of him.
He would give her all the credit, of course, as he always did when asked. But although they had gone through their experience in a world built from old magic together, it was Keir’s bravery and willingness to accept his failures that pulled them from it. And it was his tireless work since then to heal not just his own heart, but the hearts and minds of the town he’d been estranged from, that enabled him to take back his place as the village doctor. To get back to work saving lives as he’d done for the baby dwarf girl today.
“They’re so beautiful,” said the mother as she received the second baby in her arms. “Thank you, Dorna, doctor, and especially you, my dear Alison,” she said. “I swear when you held my hand, it was like the pain was halved. I should be sorry to see you go.”
Keir gave Alison a puzzled look. The new mother was not the first person to say this.
“Call on me again if you need anything,” said Keir to the midwife. He led Alison from the room and into the living room of the hillside home, the only room of the house with a window.
“Well?” asked a dwarf man. He and several others sat around a table near the fireplace, a pile of cards and coin in the middle.
“A boy and a girl, both healthy. Minra is fine as well.”
“A boy and a girl!” shouted the dwarf, on his feet to shake Keir’s hand. “Oh, Durtaz is going to be thrilled when he comes up. Can we poke our heads in?”
“Yes, but only for a moment. They need their rest.”
“Will do, doctor. Will do,” said the dwarves, the friends of the father standing in for him while he labored deep in the mine.
Keir opened the door of the dwarven abode into the cool night air. The breeze felt wonderful on Alison’s skin.
He led her by the hand down the mountain trail towards Herot’s Hollow, pausing as they rounded a bend out of earshot of the dwarven settlement.
He took her in his arms, kissing her forehead lightly and brushing the dark strands of her hair away from her face.
“You were amazing,” he said. “How do you feel?”
“Euphoric,” she said. She knew the exhaustion would reach her soon, but her mind was still in the bedroom, hearing the sweet relief of the baby girl’s cry. “I’ve never felt anything like it. I know it isn’t always like that, but I see why you do it. Just one moment like that would sustain me for years. It’s a gift, Keir.”
Keir stroked Alison’s shoulder as he led her on. “I wanted to talk to you about that,” he said. “Gifts. What Minra said in there about you taking away her pain. Rory Wilson said that last week as well when I set his arm. Is that something people have said to you before?”
His face had an innocent, inquisitive look that Alison now recognized as hiding a deeper concern. She thought about the substance of his question before considering what he was implying. “I’ve been told I have a comforting presence, yes.”
“But taking away pain specifically?” There was a bit of tension in his arm that Alison felt was more than necessary to keep their balance on the steep road.
“What are you implying?”
“Nothing. Never mind. I’m just wondering how I got on without you. If you grow tired of your poetry, you should consider medicine. You’d make a fine doctor yourself, you know.”
Alison was dissatisfied by his answer, complimentary though it was, but in truth, she too was too tired to argue. As they made it around the final switchback, Herot’s Hollow became visible down in the valley below. The tiny hamlet lined the sides of the river with quaint stone buildings thatched with straw. In the still hours before dawn, the streetlamps were the only source of light, their flickers catching on cobblestones slick with the last of spring’s showers.
Alison and Keir walked hand in hand in silence through the empty streets. When they reached their turn, they continued past Alison’s cottage to Keir’s larger home at the end of the lane. Although Alison preferred her own bed to his, she did not protest. His well was easier to draw from, and they both needed washing up before going to sleep.
By the time Alison reached Keir’s bed, she was so spent that she nearly crushed Willow, their neighbor’s tabby who had come to split her time evenly among the houses in the neighborhood. The cat grumbled something about humans and their clumsiness, but Alison didn’t hear it.
She was out the moment her head hit the pillow.
Alison woke the next morning to a familiar banging sound.
“Use the flap, Dinah,” she muttered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and squinting as a bright ray of sunlight slippedthrough a gap in the curtains. Dinah had belonged to the distant relative Alison inherited her cottage from, and she wasn’t sure whether it was the cat’s city upbringing or just something contrary in her nature that made her resist anything Alison did to make her life easier.
One of the first things Alison had done to improve both her own cottage and Keir’s home was to install cat flaps in the doors. Willow had appreciated the effort immediately, but Dinah refused, even after Willow had explained that while it wasn’t dignified, it was better than having to beg to be let in and out.
The rapping on the door continued. Keir stirred next to Alison. “I’ve got it,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”
Alison nodded, never lifting her head from the pillow. She felt as though she had only been out again for a few moments when Keir came back, leaning over her and gently shaking her awake.
