Player made the introductions. “Anat, these are two of the women I consider family: Blythe, Czar’s wife, and Anya, Reaper’s woman. This is Anat and Zyah.” Where Anya was tall and dark, Blythe was tall and blond.
“I know Blythe,” Anat said. “Inez introduced us.”
Blythe nodded. “We did meet. It was quite a while ago. You have a good memory, Anat. You came to one of the classes I was teaching on spinning yarn. And, of course, Zyah and I met the other night. It’s so nice to see you again.”
“Lovely to meet you, Anya,” Zyah greeted. “Have you been here before?”
“I haven’t,” Anya admitted. “Blythe told us about it. I wanted to meet you, so I thought this was the perfect opportunity to get to do both.”
The women at once began to talk, laughing together as if they were good friends. Player found himself watching Zyah’s face, the way her eyes lit up. He enjoyed hearing her genuine laughter. After the fear in her from the night before, he was grateful that he’d thought to bring them to Hannah’s tea shop. There was something very magical about her shop. He couldn’t say what it was, but he felt it and knew the women did as well.
“Before I leave you to it, ladies, I want to ask Blythe a quick question,” he interrupted. “You know quite a bit about physical therapy, don’t you? At least Czar told me you do.”
She nodded. “I’m certified as a therapist. Hopefully, I can answer your question if you have one for me.”
“Anat has been doing therapy on her arm, and she’s been doing quite well. Before, she’d been doing therapy on her leg and it became very painful. When Zyah took her back in for more X-rays, they had to reset her leg. She’ll have to start over again and is about to do so. When she’d told the therapist that it was hurting her to do the exercises, the therapist dismissed her concerns and told her a little pain was necessary. She’s been going along all this time, doing great with her arm. I’ve stayed in the room with her. Lately, the therapist has been trying to get me to leave. She insisted yesterday, and I finally did, but then Anat told me the exercises were very painful and the therapist said the same thing to her—that pain was necessary for improvement. I didn’t like that she insisted I leave the room. Why would that be necessary when Anat always did the work with me there? And why is pain so necessary?”
Zyah leaned toward her grandmother. “You didn’t tell me about this.”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
Zyah sighed. “You should have told me immediately. You should have called me when I was at work. And, Player, that therapist can’t order you out of the room. If you feel something’s wrong, don’t leave her. The therapist can leave. We’ll find someone else.”
“Actually, Zyah’s right, Player,” Blythe agreed. “There is no need for Anat to hurt when she’s doing her exercises. And certainly no reason for you to be out of the room, especially when you’ve been there all along and she’s worked without a problem. I don’t ever want to say anything against another therapist, but she doesn’t seem the right fit for Anat.”
“I have to agree with that,” Player said. He smiled at the older woman. “You’re always so sweet to everyone, Anat. It isn’t that she’d get fired. She just wouldn’t work for you specifically. There are a lot of other patients for her to work with. She travels, remember? The clinic hired her to work with their overflow of patients. We’ll find someone much more suited to you, especially now that you’re going to start work on your leg again. Zyah can call your doctor for another reference.”
“I really don’t want that poor girl to lose her job, Player. She’s very nice. She just gets so rough at times,” Anat said. “She tells the most interesting stories. I really like her.”
“You like everyone, Mama Anat,” Zyah pointed out. “That’s why everyone loves you so much.” She covered her grandmother’s hand with her own. “My grandfather was so crazy in love with her, he spent months drawing her a picture for their anniversary. Months. It was done in charcoal. When she left everything behind and came to the United States, she brought me and the picture.”
Anat’s laughter floated through the shop, tinkling gently like the bells at the door. Player loved the carefree sound.
“He did. He was such a brilliant man, and yet at his heart, he was a poet. An artist.” There was such love in Anat’s voice.
“Did he work for the government?” Player asked. “Zyah tells me he was a renowned physicist.”
“He worked for them at first, but then he had a fallingout with them and quit his job. I was a little scared. In those days, it could get frightening to oppose the government, particularly if you were in the kind of position he was in. Thankfully, we were left alone. They came around occasionally to ask him back to work, but he always refused. He had friends who thought as he did, that the president was moving too far away from the needs of all the people. It was a time of conflict in my country, and he didn’t want me involved. It was one of the few times when we didn’t share everything.”