Page 245 of Phoenix's Fire

"Women," Helah fake-whispered as a reminder. "They just became official women today."

"Mine are all old men," a girl named Febee explained.

"Mm, means your mother was likely in quarantine," one of the wives pointed out.

"She was," Febee admitted.

That made a few of the wives nod. "Seems the daughters from quarantine are often listed to only the men with far too many children in the community."

"Like Mr. Saunders?" I asked.

"Exactly," she confirmed.

"I don't have him," Febee said.

"Then you're related to him," Helah said. "But who do you have?"

"Uh, girls, we should at least offer help to the women helping us, no?" I flicked a finger at the basins with water running through them.

That was all it took to get the nine of them up and headed for an open spot to assist with the washing. Beside me, Helah leaned in to rub my arm.

"You're a good woman, Callah."

"I'm just trying to figure out a way to use this change to our advantage," I told her. "I'm not sure how, but it feels like something has changed, and I don't see why we can't make that change work for us as well."

"Nothing works for us," Deenah called from where she was still washing.

That made the discussion of men fade as people looked at me. "But why can't it?" I asked.

"How?" the older woman asked. "You girls will be married. Within the year, you'll all be pregnant, and that's hard enough on us when we're twenty. Starting younger?" She shook her head. "I've had eight children. Eight! Two of them were stillborn. Three didn't survive the first few months. That leaves me with three children, and all but this one are living in the halls now."

She meant the boys' hall or the girls'. I nodded to show I was keeping up, but I wasn't sure what to say. I couldn't imagine losing a child!

"But isn't this helping the girls?" Helah asked. "We know the older men. Our husbands work with them, and we've often washed beside one of their wives. We know much more about them than girls in sermon would ever hear. Sharing itishelping."

"And when these men complain about it?" the older woman asked. "That's what I mean. For every good we do, our husbands find a way to punish us for it. Often, that's taking away our children, either by sending them to the nursery or bringing labor early with the rod."

Helah sucked in a breath. "They don't know about such things, Judith!"

"Maybe we should," I said calmly. "Maybe all the secrecy is part of the problem?" I gestured to Helah's head. "We hide our wounds. We don't discuss the waymen treat us. We shield their secrets, making it easier for another girl to unknowingly be harmed because of it. But what if we can do something else?"

"Like what?" Judith, the older woman demanded.

"I don't know!" I snapped. "That's the problem. I don't know what it's like to be a wife. I don't know how to help, but I know wounds are common, and I can fix those."

"Not after you're married," someone else said. "Your husband won't want to have your attention taken from him like that."

"Actually," I corrected, "Mr. Warren wants me to keep healing. He hopes I will become like Mrs. Worthington, because he likes knowing I will put him back together if he gets hurt while hunting."

"So what if one of us comes knocking at your door?" Judith demanded. "How much will he like it then?"

"Judith, her man is simple," Deenah said. "He'd be easily pacified."

"And I'd help," I told her. "If it's something sensitive, ask me to come help with a stain? Or beg a crochet hook? I don't know, but something that wouldn't make men take notice."

"The crochet hook is a good idea," Helah said. "Most of us have spares, and it's the sort of women's issue men would simply ignore."

"It's also a quick request," a girl added. "Ask for the hook, take one home, but know your friend will meet you later at an assigned time."