The Secret Path by Karen Swan (summer beach reads TXT) 📕

a possibility,’ she agreed, turning to him. ‘But it would need further tests to establish for sure.’

‘Hepatitis,’ the Awa repeated. And he walked over to the small stool and picked up the bowl Sarita had been working at when they’d arrived. He lapsed into Bribri again.

Tara waited for the information to be relayed – Sarita, to Jed, to her. ‘These leaves, when ground up, make a juice,’ Jed said. ‘For seven months so far, to purge the blood. No food.’

Tara’s eyes widened in alarm. Seven months with no food? Even manners couldn’t hold back her shock. He would die of starvation and malnutrition long before the disease got him. Little wonder he was skin and bone!

‘He needs nourishment, Jed, or he will die.’ Her voice was more urgent now, more insistent.

‘He says all the medicine we need is right here. The earth will heal us, we just need to know how.’

She watched as the Awa reached into a cloth sack she hadn’t noticed he had brought in with him. He pulled out a variety of leaves, still green, still fresh. He held them up as he began speaking again.

‘These ones – coffee leaves . . . are for headaches,’ Jed said, translating dutifully.

He put the coffee leaves back in the bag.

‘Oh God,’ she thought, watching in dismay as he brought out some others. Another perceived display of strength? He could show her the leaves of every plant in this jungle, but it wasn’t going to make that little boy better.

‘These . . . this is the Clorox.’ The Awa rubbed it between his hands and presented it to her to sniff. ‘We use this for washing our clothes,’ Jed translated.

‘This leaf . . . with the red spots . . .’ Tara waited as it was held up to show her. ‘Is for the woman’s menstruation cramps. You cook it up and drink it as a tea. See? It even smells like blood.’ Tara didn’t want to smell these leaves, but being polite, being British – an old joke, she vaguely recalled – she did. It did, curiously, have that ferrous tang to it.

‘And these ones . . .’ The Awa held up some glossy green leaves, shaped with three dips, and said something directly to Jed. ‘He does not know the word in Spanish. In Bribri is called curyho diwhipa. For curing the diabetes.’

‘Diabetes? Really?’

‘Bu he calls it men’s underwear.’

Tara frowned, as the Awa laughed suddenly, the sound cackling and ancient. ‘Men’s . . .?’

‘Yes. It looks like men’s underwear. He says.’

Tara looked at it more closely. She supposed the shape might, possibly, bear a relation to Y-fronts although she couldn’t be a hundred per cent sure, as she didn’t know any men who wore them. She gave a small, polite smile. This was a waste of precious time. None of it changed the fact that a young boy was slowly dying in the corner of this hut in the jungle.

‘Don Carlos—’ she began, just as the Awa stepped towards her and reached forwards, putting his hands on her ringing head – one hand over her forehead, the other behind, at the base of her skull. He closed his eyes.

Tara, though startled, fell still at the firm hold. It was so profoundly surprising and unexpected and . . . comforting. She listened to the hush grow like a suspense.

She waited . . . and began to feel a curious rush, as though something was shifting in her, unblocking dammed-up waters. Anger breaking past her manners at last, perhaps? It was a giddying sensation, but she didn’t stir. For half a minute, maybe more, no one moved at all. Then the Awa stepped back, his hands lifting off her and leaving heat imprints on her skin. The rushing sensation immediately stilled. He said something to Sarita, who passed it to her husband.

‘. . . He says the heart vibration is weak.’

‘Hearts don’t vibrate, Jed,’ she said in a quiet voice that refuted the assertion.

The Awa spoke again. This time, when Jed listened, then looked at her, he seemed both shocked and awkward.

‘He says you have lost a child. That is why you are here.’

The statement was startling, images of little Lucy Miller flashing through her mind, of blood in water—

She swallowed. ‘I am here to stop you losing your child.’

The man spoke again and Tara waited as the message was conveyed down the line to her. ‘He says you carry it in your heart,’ Jed murmured.

Memories clawed at her like spitting cats, the white noise of a fast-gathering headache turned up to maximum volume.

‘Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? The death of any child is devastating.’ But her voice was choked and she stepped back, out of their orbits, turning away. She didn’t want to be ‘read’ again. She didn’t believe in . . . this. ‘Which is why it’s so important we get Paco somewhere he can be treated.’

The Awa spoke again, but Tara felt her patience beginning to fray. This was ridiculous. Paco needed to get to a hospital, as quickly as humanly possible.

‘He says what Paco needs is the black star leaf.’

Tara blinked. ‘What?’

‘It is the plant which can truly cure him. But it cannot be found here, only in one spot of the sacred Alto Uren mountains. It is a two-day journey from here and the leaves must be picked by a woman at dusk.’

Oh, for heaven’s sake! A woman at—? Tara stared at him, struggling to contain her frustration. ‘Jed, your son could be in a hospital in San José in a few hours. If you could just steel yourself to get him to somewhere a helicopter could land, we could get him to full medical help tonight. Won’t you let me do that for you? Please.’

Jed stared back at her, hearing the glint of steel in her words. He could recognize the logic of what she was saying, she could see it, but he was conflicted, a husband and father torn. After several moments of protracted silence, he turned to talk to Sarita. Tara watched as she began shaking her head, stepping back and away, her eyes down, refusing to make contact with Tara again. Tara heard the shrillness in