10 Kena

The next day, the river still hadn't receded. They gave up on waiting and prepared to cross the paddocks. The ponies tossed their heads and stamped their hooves, restless. In the driver's seat, Vardimann looked up to see a tall, rugged silhouette standing in the distance.

"Whitlow…"

Next to the fence, Whitlow turned. "He's the owner?"

Vardimann nodded. "Yesterday, I told him we might be passing through. I guess he's here to see if we did." The stoic, unmoving figure made him uneasy for some reason. "I even apologised in advance."

"Then let's get going." Whitlow pulled up a fencepost.

Leaving the shadowy figure behind, they made good progress. Even with the two of them constantly jumping up and down to remove and replace the fences, they still reached the next town just before sunset. When Vardimann climbed into the wagon for bed, he was met with a glare.

"The ground here is dry and I am completely fine. You have absolutely no reason to share with me tonight." Whitlow ignored his crestfallen face and rolled over. Vardimann sighed and went to pitch his tent.

"In the morning…

Can you hear the tui calling,

Can you hear the tui calling,

Can you?..."

Whitlow awoke to a gentle baritone voice singing. He opened his eyes.

"When the sun goes down,

And the moon is out,

Hold my hand…"

Whitlow propped himself up to have a look. He saw Vardimann sitting on the damp ground, cradling a baby girl and singing softly. The girl had her eyes closed and her lips smacked unconsciously.

The doctor climbed out of the wagon, careful not to make too much noise and wake the child. He grabbed some bread for breakfast and sat next to Vardimann, who nodded in greeting.

Whitlow waited for the song to finish and spoke in a whisper. "What's a too ee?"

"Tui. I think it's a type of bird."

"I didn't know you could sing."

"It's been a while. The last time I really sang was.. six years ago?"

Whitlow raised his eyebrows. "Really? I'm impressed you still remember the lyrics."

Vardimann smiled. "I have an excellent memory for songs." He stroked the girl's nose. "I used to have a friend, who taught me those songs. He also taught me how to play the lute. I knew him for seven years." The smile faded. "But for some reason, I can't remember his face or name."

Perhaps sensing the mood, the baby yawned and opened her eyes. Blue eyes gazed at the two men. Two chubby arms reached out. Vardimann chuckled and lifted her up. "What's your diagnosis, doc? Cornflower or forget me not?"

Whitlow started. He looked the little girl's eyes and said, "I think it's cornflower blue. Though it's rather pale for cornflower."

Vardimann had a look as well. "Yeah, you're right. It'll get darker as she gets older."

The baby dangled from his hands unprotestingly. Whitlow frowned. "Is she all right? Children are normally more active than this."

"Oh, she's fine. It's normal." Vardimann lay her down in his arms again. "When babies and toddlers see me, they go quiet and stare."

Whitlow imagined a crowd of children, silently staring. "That's creepy."

"Not for me. It's nice that I don't have to deal with their screaming or tantrums."

A young woman carrying an overflowing laundry basket hurried over. "Lukin, you're awake!" Her hair was rumpled and there were bags under her eyes.

"Mary." Whitlow frowned. "You look awful."

Mary dropped the basket. "You'll never get a girl if you're that honest." She sat down and held out her hands. Vardimann passed the baby over. "Thank you for looking after her."

Whitlow patted her shoulder. "The baby's yours? Congratulations." He had seen her last year, exchanging blushing glances at an apprentice carpenter around her own age. He was glad things had worked out for them.

Mary smiled tiredly. "A happy accident. We were going to get married soon anyway." The little girl made some noises and pawed at her clothes. The mother sighed and loosened her corsetry. "Here you go, missy." She leaned against the doctor and closed her eyes. "I've been so tired, I haven't even named her."

Whitlow scowled. "Your husband should be helping you."

"That's…" She buried her head in his shoulder. "There was…an accident…"

He patted her head. "I'm sorry." If he had been there…

It was like she could read his thoughts. "It wouldn't have helped if you were here. He, um." She choked.

Vardimann saw that the baby had finished eating and was in danger of falling off her lap, so he took her into his embrace. Mary sat up and wiped her face. "It hit his head. He was in a coma for a while, then just…" Whitlow could only rub her sympathetically. She looked at her daughter, asleep again. "If she was a boy, I could have named him after his father. But now I have to think up a girl's name and I…I don't know…"

There was a long silence. Vardimann rocked the nameless baby. "Hey, Whitlow. You two seem pretty close, why don't you name her?"

Mary smiled briefly. "That would be nice. Or maybe you could name her, since she seems comfortable around you." The child snuggled in Vardimann's arms.

Whitlow was struck speechless. Since when was a name something chosen so lightly?

Vardimann shook his head. "I'm no good with names. I mean, look at mine." He freed an arm to poke his friend. "Witty Whitlow, use your wits and think of a name."

Whitlow grabbed the poking finger. "Stop calling me that. I can't name her. The only ones I would think of are all stereotypical princess names from home. They would sound weird here."

"The fist female name that comes to mind for me is Pokani, my little sister. You think you can do worse?"

Whitlow sighed. "Fine." He thought for a bit. "What about Kena? It's the name of a flower."

"Kena?" Mary nodded. "I like it. It's short and easy to remember." She leaned over and stroked the girl's face. "Nice to meet you Kena, I'm your mother." The newly named Kena sleepily grasped a finger and smiled. The lines on Mary's face were completely wiped away by that smile.

Mary stayed for a while longer, then had to leave to do the laundry. She asked the men to look after Kena until she came back. "I'll only be gone for an hour or so."

There were a lot fewer patients than normal, perhaps because Whitlow had started charging them. After the third one, the line was empty, so the doctor looked over at his assistant. Kena was quiet, but also smiling and grabbing at Vardi's fingers. Vardi was teasing her, moving them in and out of reach, occasionally letting her catch them. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Vardi."

"Hmm?"

"You said you have a sister. How many siblings to you have?"

"Eight." Vardimann let Kena catch him. "Four brothers and four sisters."

"Eight!" Whitlow was incredulous. "And I thought my family was big."

Vardimann looked up. "How many siblings do you have?"

"Four. An older brother and three younger sisters." Whitlow became a bit nostalgic. "All my uncles' families live at my father's estate. When I was little, I thought I had over a dozen siblings. I was so disappointed to learn that most of them were my cousins."

"I guess you're the type who likes having a lot of people around. No wonder you were uncomfortable when it was just us two."

The was a break in the conversation as there was another patient. Talking about his family reminded Whitlow of something he had forgotten a few days ago. Or was it a week?

"Vardi, you never actually told me about your wife. If you have one?"

Vardimann paused. It was then Whitlow remembered how uncomfortable he had been last time. "Oh, I'm sorry. You don't want to answer that, and you don't have to. It's fine."

Vardimann rolled his eyes. "If you already know that, then it kind of defeats the purpose of staying quiet." He sighed. "I had an arranged marriage when I was fourteen. I suppose I am still technically married. We rarely met, except when required."

"I see. But why was that something to hide?"

Vardimann gently released Kena's hand. "I wanted to be more…normal. A bride at fourteen isn't exactly normal. I think."

Whitlow nodded understandingly. There were still things he wanted to ask, but Vardimann had started singing to Kena again. It seemed he didn't want to talk any more.

Some time later, Mary returned, minus her basket. She was genuinely pleased to see them again, cradling Kena in her arms. "I'd invite you to dinner tonight, but I've got too much going on."

Whitlow shook his head. "It's fine. You should spend some time your daughter." They waved her off.