Uprooted

Chapter 1

She laid the book on the table, upsetting the top, which fell to rest on its side. Skip set it up again as she opened the twenty-year-old edition of Modern Medical Practice, taking a moment to brush her fingers over the handwritten note on its first page even thought she'd long since memorized it.

D,

I hope you will accept this and make use of it. Please take care of yourself.

Yours,

M

She flipped then to the index, skimming until she found the listing for broken arms, and then turned to the right page. The clatter of wood on wood and Skip's sighs accompanied her reading until she nodded to herself and walked over to him.

"I need to see if your arm is really broken. It will probably hurt."

His eyes were wide and serious as he nodded, and she grasped his right arm. He inhaled but held himself still as she ran her fingers over the limb.

She had to agree with him about one thing: the bone appeared to be fractured, if not broken. According to her book, it would need a splint and a sling. He was lucky, as he'd told her on one of his many previous visits, that he was left handed. He was still practicing with the top when she spoke. "How did you manage this?"

"Fell out of an apple tree." The top was wobbling and falling almost immediately.

"You have to hold it very straight and control the motion when you spin it. Think very tight movements." He nodded and tried again. "What were you doing in the tree?" she continued.

"Picking apples." He pointed to the large basket he had dropped by the wall, half full with the shiny red fruit.

"Why?"

He shrugged, wincing again as it shifted his bad arm. "I want apple pie. Don't you like pie?"

Before she could answer, he let out a whoop of triumph, throwing his hands up and nearly hitting her in the face. "Stay still," she admonished and he sat back into his prior pose, biting his lip. He was silent. "Did that hurt?" she asked. He nodded. "Let me fix it, then. You can have the top but only if you can stay still."

"I can have it? To keep?" He grinned.

No. That was not what she had meant, but she held back the instinctive denial. If it kept him entertained while his arm healed, was that not worth giving up a memento she was really too old for anyway?

"Alright. But only if you promise to be still for now. And to be careful when you leave," she added.

"I will."

"Good," she muttered. "It'll save me a lot of work and headache."

He nodded. "Mom says I give her a headache too. That's why I got the apples, so she could make a pie. Pie always helps me when I have a headache."

She rolled her eyes and returned to her book. She had plenty of cloth for the sling but what could she use for the splint? Her eye was drawn again to Skip's basket. "Is that a tree branch?"

"Oh, yes," he replied, "it broke off when I fell, so I brought it back with me. Isn't it like I broke the tree's arm when it broke mine?"

She raised an eyebrow but only asked if she could use it for his splint, and when he agreed she fetched the branch. It was a two-foot length and about half as thick as her wrist. A spark of energy coursed up her spine when she grasped it. She dismissed it as the lingering traces of the tree's life force encountering hers. She snapped the branch over her knee, ignoring his gasp. Estelle began immobilizing his arm, binding it to one half of the stick and mostly tuning out his chatter as he became more and more adept at spinning the top.