“Oh, down south. Lived in Chicago all my life, myself. The windy city. Ever been here in the winter, when the wind blows?”

“No, I . . .”

“Terrible. Terrible. People freeze to death just walking down the street. It’s so cold their lungs just freeze up on ’em and they fall over. Dead. Just like that.”

“Well, anyway, back home, sometimes I can help people who are sick.”

“You a doctor?” Mrs. Stimson looked at her with a wary eye.

“Oh, no.”

“You some kind of a healer?”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure. Sometimes, though, when I put my hand on people . . .”

“You want money. How the hell does this hospital let people like you in here?”

“No, really. No money. Just let my put my hand on your legs, okay? Just let me try?”

The old woman’s face softened. This young thing seemed so sincere. What the hell. Couldn’t hurt.

“Sure. Go ahead. No money, mind you.”

Fern smiled at her. “No money. Just close your eyes and relax.”

“Close my eyes and you’ll probably steal me blind.” She took off her glasses and closed her eyes.

Fern closed her eyes and shut out all the distractions. Her right hand hovered over the woman’s knees. Instantly, she saw the trouble. The passages for the blood were twisted, knotted, dammed up in places, with reservoirs of blood pooling in pockets. They were discolored and sore. Fern raised her left hand to the sky, and a fresh sweet rain poured through her psyche and flushed out the veins. It ran pure and true, straightened out the twisted mess and reamed out the clotting collected on the sides. It emptied and sealed off the reservoirs, dissolved the little tributaries that had been formed out of necessity. When the veins looked fresh and clean, she moved her right hand to the toes, touched them gently, and all the bad blood flowed out of the toes, through her body and out her hand. Then she went back with another cleansing flush and was finished.

She opened her eyes. Mrs. Stimson’s face was pink, her breath came in short gasps.

“Mrs. Stimson?”

The old woman opened her eyes, then closed them again. “Just a moment. Let me catch my breath.” Slowly, her breathing returned to normal. She signaled for a sip of water. Fern helped her to it. She drank strongly, then fell back onto the pillows.

“Well, I never! That’s some power you got, girl. Took my breath clean away.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Well, yes, some of it hurt, but not like it’s been hurting. More like a good hurt. Not bad at all.” Her eyes opened wide with wonder. “My feet!”

Fern was alarmed. “What? What’s the matter with your feet?”