Dr. van der Berg brushed by Maria, barely glancing at her. At this moment his only concern was the patient he’d come to visit. He examined the girl, then went into the study, calling Maria to join him, closing the door so they might speak privately. Van der Berg’s brow was creased and he looked disturbed, not over the state of his patient, who was much improved, but rather in regard to his own apparent lack of judgment and expertise.

“I suppose you think I’m a fool.” He was certainly looking at Maria now.

“Not at all. I’ve had experience with this illness in Curaçao and merely recognized it for what it was. You cannot know what you haven’t seen.”

The doctor was grateful for her kindness, though he believed that in this case he had indeed been an ignorant fool. He was known to be a somewhat arrogant man, assured of his vast knowledge, but he now humbled himself and asked for her method of treatment, and she shared the curatives she’d used, all of a practical nature. Wet washcloths with apple cider vinegar, basil tea with ginger, fish bone broth, all simple enough, but most important was the use of Tawa-tawa tea, which she would be happy to supply if he came upon more patients with the disease.

“If she first became ill in Aruba, among her cousins, she was likely infected by them. It travels in the breath,” he concluded.

“No, by the bite of an insect. It is not like the pox. You cannot be infected by a person who is ill.”

“What was your name?” the doctor asked, quite taken with her.

“Maria Owens.”

“And mine—”

She stopped him there. “I know who you are, sir.” Everyone in New York knew of him, he was so esteemed, a friend to those in power and those in need.

The doctor poured two glasses of port from the minister’s glass carafe. “I celebrate you,” he said. People were usually so dull in his opinion, but not this woman. “I must say, I can’t help wonder what it is you’ll do next.”

Maria glanced at his hand. His fortune was changing as he spoke. She had never seen a man’s fate change as quickly. When she peered into her own palm, the same thing was happening, a twin to the pattern on the doctor’s hand. Their meeting had changed everything that was to come.

Fate is what you make of it, Hannah had told her. You can make the best of it, or you can let it make the best of you.

Maria and the doctor were now tied together, by choice, by intent, by happenstance. Fate had made it so, but Maria would make certain it continued to her benefit. When they said their good-byes later that evening, it would not be the last time they met.