Judith Bowen - The Wild Child

“Doris?”

The housekeeper nodded. “I don’t know her well, of course, just to say hello if I saw her shopping or whatnot on the mainland, but I do know she had a bad spell earlier this spring.”

“She broke her hip but she’s doing quite well now. She’s in a nursing home in Sechelt. Seaview Lodge.”

“Is she? I’m glad to hear it,” the older woman said hastily, then glanced again at the doorway to the hall. “You’ll have a cup of tea?” she continued in a normal tone.

“Oh, no, thank you,” Eva said. “I’m just on my way—” She looked helplessly at her foot, immersed in the rapidly cooling water. “I’m just—”

“She’s got a sore foot, Auntie Aggie,” Fanny explained. “My dad’s gonna fix it up.”

“Silas should have told me you were here. Honestly!” The elderly housekeeper settled into a rocking chair by the window with her knitting. She took out a small piece, yellow, with blue ducks knitted into the yoke of what looked very much like the back of a child’s cardigan. The color was suspiciously familiar.

The clack-clack of the knitting needles filled the silence for a long minute. Eva desperately wished again that she’d just gone home. “Are you here for the summer?” she asked, casting about for something—anything—to say.

The housekeeper raised her head abruptly. “No, we’ve been here, me and my husband, for nearly three years now.” She sighed. “This latest time, anyway. I worked for Silas’s parents before, too, you know. Here and at their place in West Vancouver. That would be some years ago, of course.”

“I see.” So Fanny and her father—and the Klassens—really were living on the island year-round. What did one do here in the winter? “It must be lonely.”

“Sometimes.” Mrs. Klassen shook out a strand of yarn from her work bag. “Oh, but there’s always something to do and I go over to the mainland regular to visit our son—goodness, child, what are you after now?”

Fanny had opened the refrigerator door and was inspecting the contents. “I wish we had some of that fizzy water like Eva has in her fridge. Or pop.”

“So you’ve had a look in our guest’s fridge, have you, you nosy little dickens, you?” the housekeeper asked with a cheerful smile. “Come here, honey, I want to measure this on you again.”

The girl went obediently to the window, carrying a juice box, and stood quietly while Mrs. Klassen fussed with the garment, pulling and pushing until it fit, in a manner of speaking, on the child’s back, over her T-shirt.

“There! Thank you, dear.” The housekeeper flopped the piece she was working back to front and began on a purl row. It had been years since Eva had knit anything. Her mother had taught her. She’d knit a pair of slippers for Girl Guides, once. And a scarf as a Christmas gift for her sister Kate.

The Newfoundland’s sudden focus on the hall entrance alerted Eva to Silas’s return. He carried a towel and a handful of first aid supplies, including the tube of ointment he’d gone for.

“How’s the foot?”

“It’s fine, really. I feel rather foolish going through all this just for a sliver….”

“You can’t be too careful. We’re on an island here with no doctors, no nurses, no medical help of any kind. It’s best to avoid emergencies.”

“This isn’t an emergency,” Eva insisted.

“No. But if your foot had become badly infected, it could be. Would you have come to us for help?” His eyes, a stormy-sea-color, not blue, not green, were intent on her.

“My cousin managed,” Eva grumbled, realizing she was being difficult and not exactly sure why.

“Did she?” Silas’s look was challenging as he hunkered down in front of her and held out the towel. Obediently she raised her foot and he dried it gently.

“Yes. She was airlifted off, you know. She was a very resourceful woman. She used her cell phone to call for help.”

“Did she?” Silas repeated, not meeting her eyes. “So you’re related to Doris Bonhomme—”

“I’m her second cousin.”

“Sounds like you admire her.”

“I do,” Eva retorted hotly, realizing she’d just answered the questions Silas had posed in the orchard. “I’ve always admired her independence. I think she’s a wonderful woman.”

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