The Chronicles of Harold the Healer Ch. 07

"Her parents are Healer Leila and Healer Harold," replied Ms. Franklin, running her fingers absently through her short black hair. "Leila, I encounter frequently, and she always shows up for parent-teacher interviews, but I've only heard stories about Healer Harold and the things he's done when he's been in town."

"I have heard some of them too," the ghost replied as they peeked out the door, seeing that by now it was mostly clear of rampaging children. "I actually saw him at work once, when he stopped just outside of town to Heal a raven that had had its wing broken by a fox that had jumped it. He somehow did it while calming its mate who was trying to attack him at first, and it was amazing to watch the whole process. May I join you in the Staff Room for lunch?" she added as they stepped out.

"I think that everyone will be more than happy to see you," Ms. Franklin replied. "I presume that you know the way?" she added dryly, getting a laugh in return as they started down the hallway towards the stairs at its end.

Out in the schoolyard, before they could disperse to their homes for lunch, Marcie and Donna cornered as many of their classmates as possible to tell them of their idea and they promised to spread the word. As she turned the corner on the street that led to her house, she saw a tall man with a staff making great haste towards it and going into the backyard, which had to be Papa. Having left her school pack at school, she was unencumbered and took off a top speed for home. If anything was making Papa run, it had to be serious and she got there two minutes later. He was nowhere to be found, but Mama was standing by the open kitchen door.

"Mama, where is Papa? Is he all right?" she asked, a bit out of breath herself. Then she noticed his staff lying on the grass in front of the privy. "Oh, now I know why he was in a hurry," she giggled.

"I have a sandwich ready for you, sweetheart," said Mama, giving her a warm, loving hug.

"Nothing's going on in here!" said Papa's voice from the privy, followed by three loud, obviously fake, fart noises.

"One thing you need to learn about boys, Marcie," said Mama loud enough for him to hear, "is that they grow older, but they don't grow up."

"Hey!" complained Papa as they went inside.

"What did you do at school this morning?" asked Mama as the kitchen clock made a 'ting' to mark the quarter hour after noon and they sat down at their places at the kitchen table, where ham and cheese sandwiches with a glass of milk were waiting for them.

"The ghost of Ms. Tarken was in our classroom telling us stories about the past," she replied after swallowing her first mouthful. "Thank you, Mama, this is delicious! Ghosts don't like being ghosts because they are sad and bored a lot. The Wild Hunt will be by later this afternoon, and the Goddess has been telling the ghosts to come here so they can go with it."

"That's interesting. I've talked to a few ghosts this morning who were saying about the same thing. Let me check on the weather." She closed her eyes and reached out into the air to the northwest. There were definitely thunderstorms on the way. "I'd say around 5:00 is when to expect the storms. I don't know about any Wild Hunt, but if the Goddess has been telling people about it, I'm sure it will happen."

"We have to go out after lunch and start telling people to talk to the ghosts and learn about them so we can make a book for our class project," Marcie continued as Papa walked in the door, looking rather relieved. "They are also sad because the people they liked forgot about them."

"What's all this about ghosts?" he asked as he watched his wife and daughter eating their lunches. "I saw the ghost of someone's rabbit in the veterinary clinic, but that's all I've seen so far. By the way, Marcie, Frankie Ferguson's cat crossed over, which is why you would not have seen him in school."

"That's too bad," said Mama.

"He was really sick," said Marcie sadly. "He didn't want to play any more, only to sleep."

"I helped his spirit out," continued Papa, his eyes clearly looking elsewhere, "and he's now happy and keeping the Goddess company. Then I went with Dana to see Ed Morton's house just south of town, and it looks suitable for the new Veterinary Mage School. Dana bought the place and they should be headed for Havisham soon. There is a sad story." He paused. "But I never made it to the bank because there was a long, slow line, and also didn't make it to the stationery shop for the paper I wanted so that I can write up my final report to send to the Order of St. Thrimble." He paused again as the others kept eating. "Talking to the ghosts and getting their stories is an excellent idea. So many lives come and go without leaving something behind for them to be remembered. Once their family and friends have passed away, there is nothing left save a name carved in stone that has no meaning to anyone who reads it. For those lucky enough to have a grave with a stone." From his troubled expression, they could see that he was remembering unhappy times.

"It sounds like you had a tough morning," said Mama quietly. "Lisa Forster had a heart attack in Frankie's Produce and I just happened to be there to clean out her LAD artery and revive her."

"The Goddess made sure of that," said a wide-eyed Marcie, already nearly done her sandwich. Papa's eyebrows had risen at Mama's statement. "Ms. Tarken says that the Goddess loves us all very much and that Ms. Franklin is a good teacher."

"The Goddess is a very busy woman," said Papa, "and it's wonderful that she has amazing helpers like Mama and Ms. Franklin, whom I would like to meet someday. It just occurred to me that I should put my medals back in their boxes. If there are going to be ghosts running around, I don't think that I'll be getting to the bank today. Excuse me for a moment." He left the kitchen to return to the bedroom, where he relieved his pockets of their burdens, carefully folding the ribbons so that they were inside. "So many memories," he murmured, leaving the lids open. His attention was drawn to a cloth bag with his boots sticking out from it. "Hey, did you get my stuff from Pella? Thank you!" he called down the hallway.

"Yes, I did. She caught me as I crossed the street from the General Store." He quickly removed the dress shoes he'd acquired during his dressing at Pella's yesterday, slid his feet into his old familiar boots with a sigh, and returned to the kitchen. "If you have an extra notebook lying around, maybe I could do my work?" he asked his daughter hopefully.

"Sorry, Papa. Notebooks are now for ghost stories." Marcie darted to her room, gleefully dodging past an attempt to grab her and soon returned with two used school notebooks. "I have to go back to school now. Thank you for the sandwich, Mama!"

"I have an appointment this afternoon, so you need to make yourself scarce," said Mama, responding to a look from Papa, who pouted. "Why don't you go back to school with Marcie and see if you can meet her teacher?"

"Maybe Ms. Tarken will still be there and you can talk to her. She's very nice." Papa grabbed his hat and staff, then kissed Mama, and Marcie felt the warmth of their love. He whispered something in her ear and she gave him a push.

"Out!" she commanded, with an attempt at a stern expression.

"Yes, dear," he replied meekly, getting an eye-roll for his efforts. "Let's go, sweetheart. Adventure awaits!" Out the door they went. As they walked quickly towards her school, Marcie noticed her father looking around with a happy, peaceful look that she had seldom seen on his face. "I really love this time of year," he said quietly. "Everything is green, flowers are blooming, the temperature is just right, and the world is so full of promise. I'm beginning to realize what I've missed out on all these years. It is definitely time for me to stay here with those I love the most."

"Papa, why are those old men at Ms. Blandford's gate?" There were four of them at the gate to her backyard, including the two that he had encountered earlier. They happened to look behind them, saw him, and waved, with big smiles on their faces. Harold grinned and waved back at them. He could also faintly feel the presence of Lakash Moto, his former boss at the Order of St. Thrimble, who had suddenly decided to retire and take up residence with Ms. Blandford.

"Yesterday I shared an herbal remedy with Ms. Blandford that helps older men with a certain medical problem that they tend to get. I think that word is already spreading. I hope that she has enough of the ingredients." Marcie nodded.

"That is nice of her to help them. I wonder if she will want to teach me how to play Bridge."

"And miss a chance to corrupt a sweet, innocent soul with that infernal game? Oh, she'll be more than glad to induct you into her little cabal," he said cheerfully.

"You don't like Bridge?" Papa shook his head.

"Some demented clown took the perfectly good game of Whist and made it all competitive with crazy rules about bidding and scoring, and worst of all, a lot of people think it's the best thing ever. Oy." They were now approaching the schoolyard and Marcie had perked up and was moving about as fast as one could walk without jogging. "Is Ms. Franklin on yard duty? I don't know what she looks like."

"She's standing in the shade under that tree, and I think Ms. Tarken is with her."

"You run off with your friends and I'll go over and say hello." With her notebooks clutched in her left hand, Marcie took off like an arrow. Harold looked around in wonder at the level of noise and activity. The sheer joy of youthful innocence around him as he carefully made his way toward the tree stood in sharp contrast to the memories of his childhood, as well as everything that he had experienced since.

"You must be Healer Harold. I saw you arrive with Marcie. I'm Bertha Franklin." They shook hands and gave each other the once-over. He saw a somewhat plump, five-foot-ten woman with a round, caring face, intelligent brown eyes, a small nose, and a medium-sized mouth with full lips. She was dressed in a conservative, summer-weight white blouse, blue slacks and shoes, and a white hat. She saw a man just over six feet tall with a wide-brimmed, dark blue hat with a lovely red hatband and holding an equally tall ash staff that looked like it had seen a lot of hard use. He was wearing a loose-fitting, off-white, short-sleeved pullover shirt and light brown pants, below which peeked a pair of leather boots. His face wasn't one that would stand out in a crowd, with eyebrows, nose, and mouth that looked like they would fit in anywhere, but she could see that Marcie had inherited his eyes, which were an unusual colour of blue with hints of green, and had seen a lot.

"I am the late Betty Tarkin," the ghost introduced herself. Harold responded with Polite Bow #1.

"I'm Harold Moser, Healer at Large, now stationed in Magwitch," he replied. "If you wish, I can give you a charge top-up. The coming thunderstorms have more than enough electricity to spare."

"How can you do that?" she asked curiously.

"Mages have a built-in connection with Nature. Being able to read the weather is one of the first signs that a person is coming into their powers. I don't know exactly how we do it, but we can reach out and feel the air currents, moisture levels, and the electric field, and tell if there's a storm coming. It takes a good deal of practice to be able to tap into the power of a thunderstorm without getting yourself zapped. Right now, there is a lot of moisture in the air - it feels sticky and humid, despite the breeze, and that's what's fueling the storms."

"If you don't mind, I'd like a boost. I've spent the whole morning talking to Bertha's class and it was draining." He nodded and closed his eyes, and they could feel something shift as he reached out to check out the coming storms. They were definitely closer and quite active. He gingerly tapped into the electricity and channeled it to his right index finger.

"Pull my finger," he said mischievously, opening his eyes.

"Don't be rude," Betty chuckled, carefully reaching out to the extended digit and giving it a tap. "Yow!" she exclaimed as she flared brightly and shot backwards a couple of feet, but looked much brighter and more well-defined after the flare faded. "I feel like a new woman! Thank you very much!"

"You're very welcome," the Healer replied with a smile. "I'm always glad to help. But why is it so quiet all of a sudden?" In the country at night, it was always a sign of trouble when the insects went silent. They directed their attention to the schoolyard, which they should have been watching, and saw that the kids had stopped playing and were looking at a procession of twenty-two faint and tired-looking ghosts who didn't look like they were from the Westlands.

"Ex-coos me, sar," said the lead ghost in heavily-accented Kingdom Standard, "ar yoo the Heeler?"

"Wait, are you Argosians?" an astonished Harold asked in Argosian as another teacher, Marcie, and another girl her age with long blonde hair approached them through the kids, who were starting to gather around. The ghosts perked up and began chattering with each other in Argosian.

"Yes, we came here last night on a ship from Sidone because the Wild Hunt is coming here today and we want it to take us. We walked all night and got separated from the rest. Your Goddess found us and said that you would be here and would give us a boost."

"Papa! This is Mrs. Edwards, and my friend Donna. What did he say?"

"Folks," said Harold, raising and projecting his voice so that all could hear him, "these people are visitors from the Argosy Federation, which is a long way from here. They arrived yesterday and have been walking all night to get here to be picked up by the Wild Hunt. I will give them a boost because they are very tired, and then you can talk to them and learn something about Argosy. You won't mid telling the kids some stories?" he asked the ghosts in Argosian. They looked at each other, shrugged, and agreed. "Are you OK with having your lessons hijacked for a day?" he asked the teachers. It seemed like the whole school's population was rapidly congregating around the tree.

"For such an extraordinary occasion, I think that we can," said Mrs. Edwards. "I'm Nella Edwards, the principal of the school," she added, which Harold dutifully translated. The ghosts greeted her warmly.

"OK, I will hold up my end of the bargain," said the Healer, closing his eyes, once again reaching out to the oncoming storms, and carefully tapping into the large amounts of energy that were flying around. "I'm ready," he addressed the ghosts, extending his right index finger, which had started glowing green and turquoise. "Pull my finger," he added mischievously in Argosian, getting some laughs. They lined up, with the spokesperson first, and Harold aimed his finger at an angle to the line so that they wouldn't go flying backwards into the others.

"Healer Harold, we did spread the word to our parents about talking to ghosts and getting their stories," said Marcie's friend. "I hope that they can."

"Me too," he replied as one ghost after the other got boosted, flared, and flew off a few feet. "I definitely didn't sign up for this," he thought.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Well, that's eight more ghosts boosted and neither they nor I got electrocuted," said Mark Magnussen to Stella Webber, as the ghosts who'd hitched a ride on her father Ted's wagon walked down their driveway, smiling, waving, and thanking him. "It's the strangest feeling ever. Mmph!" Stella, the love of his life since yesterday afternoon, had wrapped her arms around him for a sizzling smooch that left him more dazed than his recent Magic.

"That was a wonderful thing you did, helping those people out," she said, heedless of the audience of her parents and grandparents, who were eyeing their partners and clearly replaying memories of their early infatuations.

"It was the least I could do," he replied. "There's much more energy boiling around in those storms than I'm used to dealing with and I had to be really careful. Mr., ah, Ted," he corrected himself, addressing Ted Webber, Stella's father, "maybe there will be fewer ghosts roaming around your company?"

"We have set up a transport wagon and passenger buggy for the Mortons. Your Mom came by earlier to tell us that she'd bought the place for the Veterinary Mage School or whatever they're going to call it and contracted us to move Cathy and the kids to Havisham."

"What a sad story," said Caroline Webber, Stella's mother. At Mark's questioning look, she told him how her husband Ed had been kicked in the head by a horse and had somehow survived, but had died later after the damage that the blow had caused had caused a decline into violence and insanity, despite the best efforts of Leila and some St. Thrimble Healers.

"We've already got someone there getting them loaded," Ted said. "Dana said that the storms will be here in the 4:30 to 5:00 range, and if they leave now, they will be close to or in Havisham by the time the weather gets bad." Right on cue, a four-seater buggy pulled by two horses and a larger cargo wagon covered by a tarpaulin and pulled by a team of four clattered past the end of the driveway.

"May the Goddess watch over and protect you," said the Healer in training, raising his right arm in a blessing that went unseen. "'Studies of the Brain and Mind' is a set of courses we do, one per year, starting in Sixth Year. Nobody looks forward to them because of their difficulty. Even now, what we can do to help with mental illnesses is limited. Only some have the true gift."

"You mean you still haven't figured out why love gets us so addled?" Sam Turner, Stella's grandfather and the retiring owner of Turner's Veterinary Clinic asked with a grin that rearranged the wrinkles on his face. "There's got to be something going on inside our heads."

"I'm not so sure if anything is going on inside your head," his wife Marjorie stated. He leered comically at her and she rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe there's one thing," she added, staring at his crotch and getting laughs from the others.

"Before I take you on the Grand Tour of Webber Transportation, I need some lunch and Benny could use some water and a snack," said Ted. He indicated a water trough with a pump on the long side of the barn. "There's a barrel with some oats in the barn, if you don't mind."

"Not in the least," said Mark. "I'll get him unhitched and freshened up for you." He patted the horse's head and gave him a scratch behind his left ear, which he leaned into.

"We'll get some tea ready," said Stella. The seeming innocence in her voice was not reflected in the hot stare that she directed at Mark, who reddened slightly. The three women and Ted trooped into the house, while Mark and Sam, who'd opted to remain outside, unhitched the horse, who moved to the water trough without direction. Sam filled it with several strokes of the pump handle, while Mark opened one of the large barn doors, found the oat bin, filled the large scoop that was in it, went outside and poured the contents into the other trough. He was followed by a large ginger tabby cat who seemed determined to trip him up by twining around his feet, purring and meowing for attention.

"That's Peanut," said Sam, grinning at the cat's antics. Mark gently applied Clean and Flea Buster to the medium-haired fuzzball and stood back. Peanut looked around, puzzled by the odd sensation that swiftly moved over his entire body, which was followed by his fur poofing out and several small sparks shooting away with small smoke trails. The cat shook himself, decided that he felt a lot better and that the human needed even more loving. "Don't ask. Stella named him when I brought him home twelve years ago. He's an excellent mouser, and I've never seen him be so friendly to anyone before."