Lindsay McKenna - Hangar 13

“You were taught to be generous.”

“Exactly. Being a healer means you live in the community and are a part of its fabric. I have another client who is very poor, but she came over and helped me plant my garden one evening. It was her way of paying me back for my services.”

“I wish the rest of the world could operate on that kind of generosity.”

“Like you said,” Ellie murmured as she walked Mac to the front door, “the electric company doesn’t want jars of fruit for payment. They want cold, hard cash.”

Mac turned as he stepped out onto the front porch. “I like the world you live in.”

“At least, that part of it.”

Mac nodded and smiled slightly. “There’s a lot to like about you, about your style of living,” he told her seriously. “I may not believe in what you do, but I can respect you for it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“Then,” Mac said, opening his hand toward her, “I’d like to ‘pay’ you for your services by taking you out to dinner sometime afterward. What do you say?”

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