Sara Paretsky - Sisters on the Case

‘‘Take her out!’’ Elosa’s final words were a shriek. ‘‘It is the law!’’

Rogar turned and walked back to the water. Amaya still knelt on the sand, with Rogar’s mother and sister beside her. Tears were running down her cheeks. Tani saw her there and waved, a baby wave. Then she turned to look at the approaching water-still unafraid and still trusting Rogar.

‘‘Trust me,’’ Rogar had said. ‘‘Trust me.’’

If Tani can trust him, Amaya thought, I must trust him, too. And she stood up proudly, staring after her husband.

Now the sun had moved over the horizon, and it was hard to see what was happening with her eyes dazzled by tears and by the sun.

Again Rogar walked through the surf. Again he ducked into the water, playing a game with Tani. Amaya even thought she heard the child’s laughter over the sound of the waves. Then Rogar ducked beneath the water, and when he arose, Tani was gone.

Amaya did not allow herself to hope that the child would survive. No, the small one could not be lucky enough to be washed ashore three times. This time, she knew, Tani was dead. And that was good. If the child had to go into the water one more time, Amaya’s heart could not continue to beat.

Rogar came through the surf, and Amaya went to meet him. She put her arms around him and laid her head against his chest.

‘‘You tried, Rogar. You faced Elosa, argued with her. You tried your best.’’ She looked into his eyes. ‘‘I love you.’’

Rogar smiled. ‘‘And I love you, Amaya. Now we had better go to Tani.’’

He gestured behind her, and Amaya turned to see the same brown bundle tumble from the waves.

Tani!

She and Rogar ran down the beach, and she scooped the little girl up.

Tani coughed. She sneezed. Then she screamed.

Suddenly Amaya and Rogar and Tani were surrounded by excited people.

Rogar’s mother was embracing Amaya and Tani. ‘‘The witch is beaten!’’ she said. ‘‘This little one and my son have taken her power away!’’

‘‘What?’’ Amaya was amazed.

‘‘Three times! Three times!’’ Rogar’s sister yelled it out.

Rogar was smiling, and Amaya turned to him. ‘‘What do they mean, Rogar?’’

‘‘If the sea rejects the child three times, then the interpretation of the law is wrong,’’ he said. ‘‘Elosa condemned the child wrongly. So Tani will live, and another will be selected as shaman.’’

An hour later Tani had been fed and was asleep. Other women had come to marvel at the strong little girl who had survived the sea three times. They brought gifts to the child the sea loved. Now Amaya stared in awe at the little girl.

The others were taking Tani’s survival as a miracle. Were the gods of the sea showing that they loved her niece? Oh, it was easy to say that Elosa had condemned her wrongly and that the sea had rejected her. But it was hard for Amaya to believe Elosa had not condemned others wrongly, and her other victims had died. Amaya did not understand.

Outside, she heard a deep voice greeting Rogar, and she heard Rogar’s respectful reply. The headman had come. Would even the headman want to behold the miracle child?

But the headman was talking to Rogar.

‘‘The elders are going to ask you to join their council,’’ he said.

Join their council? Amaya took a quick breath. But Rogar was young! Too young to be an elder!

Rogar sounded wary when he answered the headman. ‘‘That is too high an honor for me. The elders must command canoes. I do not have the years-’’

The headman chuckled. ‘‘But you have the head, Rogar. And you have the knowledge.’’

Rogar did not answer.

‘‘And you used that knowledge to benefit your people. We are rid of Elosa.’’

‘‘If she had admitted she was wrong after the second time the sea refused the child-’’

‘‘But she did not.’’ The headman’s voice was brisk. ‘‘You gave her the chance to back down, to save face. She did not take it. You handled her wisely. The little one will be lucky to have you as a father.’’

‘‘The little one is already lucky.’’

‘‘Yes. She was lucky to have a man taking care of her who taught her not to fear the water. That is one reason we wish you to join the elders.’’

‘‘But-’’

‘‘Do not say no, Rogar! The other reason is more practical.’’

He dropped his voice to a whisper, and Amaya barely heard his final words.

‘‘We need all the men who understand the currents and tides as you do to command canoes.’’

I first met Dr. Randall McQuirter in 1965 over a kosher TV dinner.

Fresh out of college, I had been hired by a private Miami hospital to welcome patients and handle complaints and requests. My boss was Angie Winters, and in those days before Medicare, when some patients stayed in hospitals for months, Angie and I were the lubricant that flowed in graceful measure between them and any irritants that might mar their visit.

Angie was a platinum blonde seven inches taller, fifteen years older, and a hundred times more glamorous than I. She had selected the navy uniforms and three-inch heels we wore, and my first day at work, she called her own hairdresser. ‘‘I’m sending you a college student. Send me back a woman.’’ When I returned, I almost didn’t recognize my reflection in the plate glass doors.

Angie gave me an approving nod and sent me to the administrator, who fixed me with a steel gray gaze. ‘‘The motto of this institution is ‘For the common good.’ What is best for our patients is best for all of us. Therefore, the only question you ever need ask a patient is, ‘How may I serve you?’ Do you understand?’’

Angie worked eight to five. She comforted grieving families, helped choose nursing homes, and handled our Miami Beach celebrities. I worked from eleven until whenever, greeting new patients and visiting each one every second day to see if they needed any special attention. In my first week I fetched a mink jacket and false teeth from a beach hotel after an emergency admission, wrote a letter to children in New Jersey (tactfully revising ‘‘What the hell’s so important they can’t come see their dying mother?’’), and one evening solved the problem of an elderly man who hadn’t eaten for two days. He swore he had no appetite, but when I saw the Jewish Floridian on his bedside table and asked, ‘‘Did you know we offer kosher meals?’’ he clutched my hand so hard he nearly took off a finger.

‘‘You got kosher? Bring me some of everything. I’m famished!’’

I went down to the kitchen, asked the night staff to heat a kosher TV dinner, and offered to carry it to him myself. I was halfway to the elevator when a man strolled toward me. He had the dark eyes and hair of a Mediterranean movie star and the god-walk that proclaimed him a doctor.

‘‘Why, hello!’’ He stepped deftly into my path. ‘‘We haven’t met but I’d sure like to.’’

Next thing I knew I was backed up against the wall with nothing but a kosher dinner between me and…

I’ll never know. I heard my name and Angie-who should have gone home hours before-came swinging down the hall. ‘‘I wondered where you’d gotten to. Hello, Doctor. I need Celia up on three.’’ She put an arm around me and walked me toward the elevator. When the door slid shut, she murmured, ‘‘That was Randall McQuirter, head of our ob-gyn department. Don’t ever cross him. He’s got a real temper. But don’t get stuck alone with the man, either.’’ She spoke so casually, she could have been offering a remedy for freckles.

‘‘I can take care of myself.’’ I resented her treating me like a kid sister. The doctor was closer to her age than mine. I wondered if she wanted him for herself.