She had expected the words.
Still, seeing them written made her feel cold.
The physician examined the copper fragment beneath magnification.
He scraped corrosion with the tip of a blade.
A little more of the symbol emerged.
Black tree.
Circle.
“What is it?”
Clara asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Could it have broken off from a tool?”
“Possibly.”
He looked back at Elias.
“But there may be more inside the left canal.”
Elias immediately stood.
“No.”
The word came out rough and uneven.
The doctor froze.
Clara did not intervene.
This had to remain Elias’s choice.
The doctor wrote:
I will not touch you without permission.
Elias read.
His breathing slowed slightly.
The physician added:
But infection is present. If another foreign object remains, removing it may reduce pain and prevent worsening.
Elias stared.
Then looked at Clara.
She did not nod.
Did not tell him what to do.
She only signed one of the words they had practiced.
YOU.
Then:
CHOOSE.
He closed his eyes.
After a long time, he sat again.
The doctor removed a second fragment from the left ear.
Smaller.
Corroded nearly beyond recognition.
No visible symbol remained.
Elias gripped Clara’s hand throughout.
When it was done, sweat soaked his collar.
He looked exhausted.
But something in his expression had changed.
For the first time since Clara knew him, he looked not only frightened by his pain.
He looked angry at it.
As though the pain had finally become external.
Something done.
Not something he was.
The doctor prescribed treatment for the infection.
They stayed at a boardinghouse overnight.
Clara woke near dawn to find Elias sitting beside the window.
Snow reflected pale light into the room.
He had the copper fragment in one palm.
Clara sat up.
“Elias.”
He did not hear.
She tapped the bedframe twice.
The vibration made him turn.
She signed:
SLEEP?
He shook his head.
Then wrote:
I remember barn.
Clara’s heart tightened.
She waited.
He wrote:
Not clear.
Then:
Men. Father angry.
His hand paused.
Tree mark everywhere.
Clara looked toward the fragment.
Elias continued.
I screamed. Then no sound.
The pencil stopped.
His eyes shut.
Clara climbed out of bed.
She sat opposite him.
Not too close.
He wrote:
I thought dream.
Clara swallowed.
Maybe memory.
Elias looked at her.
Fear returned.
Clara signed:
TOGETHER.
He watched.
Then he reached across the small space and held her hand.
They returned to Blackwood the following afternoon.
The first person Clara sought was the oldest blacksmith in town.
He had been an apprentice when Elias was a child.
The smithy smelled of coal, leather, and hot metal.
The old man squinted at Clara as she entered.
“Mrs. Thorne.”