It was three days later before the tribe finally knew the result of Mei-Lien’s experiments and could decide whether the trip to Eden had been worth it. Making the ether itself was an exercise fraught with tension and potential disaster. Ether was highly flammable, which meant all the heating required for the reactions had to be done without direct exposure to fire. The temperature had to be raised to about 140 degrees Celsius, meaning they had to use an oil bath to keep the liquid at the right temperature, as water would never get that hot. They also had to complete the whole process outdoors, to prevent the possibility of fumes building up, which could spontaneously ignite if the humidity was low enough. And once the whole thing was done, they then had to figure out how to administer it to Steve and hope that an accidental overdose didn’t kill him.
Steve, to Mei-Lien’s relief, willingly agreed to the whole operation, though his reasons for cooperating were not much of an encouragement. “I’ve got not a whole lot to live for anyway,” he declared, glaring at Whisper as he and Mei-Lien prepared for the surgery. “Take a man’s wife and child away, and life starts looking a bit meaningless. Wouldn’t you agree, mate?” Whisper, to Mei-Lien’s relief, had refused to rise to the bait. A fist fight in her surgery room was the last thing she needed, when she was already on edge and terrified that this might be the first time in her fledgling career that she lost a patient.
The surgery itself was a nail-biting experience, with a dozen people standing around outside the medical lodge waiting to hear the results. Whisper was the designated anaesthetist, and Hawk was called in to play nurse – steady hands and a strong stomach made him a suitable choice. There were a few moments of near-panic, when Steve started waking up in the middle of it, and they’d had to get Aidan and Torrent to hold him down until Whisper managed to stabilise him again. It was a fine line between keeping him asleep and sending him so deep that he stopped breathing, and Mei-Lien had never had a greater appreciation for the miracles of modern medicine than now, when they’d likely been lost forever.
Finally, Mei-Lien emerged from the cabin, wiping her hands on a towel. “Steve’s awake,” she said first, those two simple words causing a sigh of relief to ripple across the gathering. “His leg’s looking good. It’ll take a while to heal, but I managed to remove the shards of wood.” She looked self-conscious for a moment. “And with any luck, I didn’t cause too much extra damage along the way. So hopefully he’ll be back on his feet in a couple of days.”
There was a moment’s silence, as the tribe digested the news. And then one pair of hands began applauding. More people joined in quickly, until the clearing was filled with cheering, everyone yelling their congratulations and gratitude to this young woman who had never quite finished her studies at university, but who nonetheless represented the best and brightest hope for a doctor that the tribe had had in years.
A roaring bonfire was burning at the fire circle, and everyone was in high spirits as the tribe shared a communal meal in celebration of the successful surgery. It was a relatively low-key affair, but a few people had put in the effort to cook something special. Mario had decided to crack open one of the bottles of gin he’d looted from the house and share his spoils with the tribe. Tom had pulled a couple of helpers together and created eight decadent apple crumbles, and Torrent produced a batch of whipped cream to go with it. There was no meat to be had, but no one was complaining. Millet, lentils and potatoes formed the usual backbone of their meals, and Nicholas had made a mint sauce to add a dash of flavour and a touch of sweetness to the normal fare of vegetables.
“So, Princess,” Whisper said to Mei-Lien, as he took a seat next to her on the log beside the fire. “It seems your magic works after all.”
“Did you doubt me?” Mei-Lien asked sweetly, smiling around a mouthful of dessert. “Perhaps you’ll know better from now on.”
Whisper couldn’t help but laugh. Though she was still shy a lot of the time, Mei-Lien certainly knew how to find her voice when it counted. “We still have to tackle making penicillin,” he pointed out, only to be interrupted by Torrent, sitting on Mei-Lien’s other side.
“Give her a break,” he said, a good-natured reprimand. “One miracle a day should be enough. Don’t go pushing your luck.”
Mei-Lien smiled, happy enough to indulge them both. “Penicillin is a lot more complicated,” she said, knowing how important it was, but also knowing when to take a break. “Growing a single strain of fungus is a lot harder than mixing a few chemicals together in a jar. It’s going to take a lot longer than making ether, and I don’t expect it to work properly the first time. So, for tonight, I’m going to enjoy the party,” she said, accepting a glass of beer from Stick with a grin, “and then tomorrow, we can start planning the next project.”
“Fair enough,” Whisper said, sitting back and shutting his mouth, and Mei-Lien noticed for the second time that he wasn’t drinking. He hadn’t had anything to drink at the wedding ceremony either.
But before that train of thought could develop any further, she suddenly found another man standing in front of her – Mario, whose leg she’d stitched up after the trip to town. He cleared his throat nervously and held out a lumpy package. It was wrapped in paperbark, with a ‘ribbon’ holding it together that was made out of grass.
“Evening,” he said bashfully. “I just thought… well, I wanted to give you this. To say thank you.”
Mei-Lien took the package, both surprised to receive it and curious about what it contained, but before she could ask Mario anything about it, he was gone. Bemused, she undid the ribbon and unwrapped it… and she gasped as she stared down at a carved wooden horse, slightly bigger than her hand. She looked around for Mario, wanting to go and thank him, and to ask why he’d given her such a beautiful gift, but before she could move, she caught a glimpse of the expression on Torrent’s face, and immediately froze to her seat.
“What’s that about?” Torrent asked, clearly making an attempt to rein in his temper and only just succeeding.
“I have no idea,” Mei-Lien told him. “It’s beautiful, but I…” She trailed off as Torrent’s glare got darker. Nope, that hadn’t been the right thing to say. “Should I give it back?” she asked uncertainly, already starting to stand up.
“No,” Whisper said firmly, pushing her shoulder back down. “You keep it. You’ve earned it.”
“Why the hell should I tolerate other men giving my wife gifts?” Torrent demanded. “She’s my wife!”
“Because she saved Mario’s life by sewing his leg back together,” Whisper said, his tone clearly stating that he thought it was a stupid question. “Your wife isn’t just another member of the tribe,” he pointed out. “She’s not even just a female member, as much as they tend to attract attention. She’s a doctor. This is it, for her, and for you now. She’s going to be getting up in the middle of the night to treat fevers and bouts of gastro. She’s going to be helping women give birth – if, God willing, we actually get that far. She’s going to be doing surgery on people when they get back from fighting battles for the tribe and spending hours with Nicholas to try and improve the herbal treatments he doles out. So, you can either be there beside her, letting her lean on you when the going gets rough, or you can be sulking in the corner, complaining that other people are getting more attention than you are.”
Torrent stared at Whisper like the man had just hit him, and Whisper waited patiently for him to process what he’d said. It was only a couple of weeks since Torrent had quite unexpectedly found himself with a wife, and Whisper didn’t expect him to have it all figured out already. But if he couldn’t see reason when it was waved in front of him, he was going to have a hard time making his marriage a long-term success.
“Fair point,” he said finally, and Whisper breathed a discreet sigh of relief. Torrent smiled at Mei-Lien, an attempt at soothing her nervousness, though it came out looking a little forced. “You should keep it. It’s beautiful. And Whisper’s right: you’ve earned it.”
“Thank you,” she said, then glanced discreetly at Whisper.
“Okay, I get the message,” he said. “We’ll talk about fungus in the morning.” With that, he got up and wandered off, leaving Mei-Lien wondering whether she should be blushing at Torrent’s obvious jealousy, or fuming at him for thinking she would just run off with any other man who smiled at her. Dusk or Rochelle might have dealt with the situation by throwing their opinion around and demanding that people respect it, but that wasn’t Mei-Lien’s way.
“You know you have nothing to worry about,” she told Torrent, sliding her hand over to take his. “A little horse is all well and good, but you gave me half a cabin, an endless pot of cream and the best foot rub I’ve had since the world ended. There’s really no competition.” She peered at him from beneath her eyelashes, and then smiled properly when he visibly relaxed and leaned his shoulder against hers.
“I’m sorry. I’m not used to any of this.”
“I’m not looking for a different husband,” she whispered to him, pressing a mischievous kiss to his lips. “Maybe in a little while we should go back to our cabin, and I can show you what I mean.”