Page 48 of The Hearth Witch’s Guide to Magic & Murder (The Hemlock Saga #1)

Saga

Saga stood at the front of the chapel, looking over the photographs of the woman who’d been like a second grandmother to her.

She recognized a few from Mamó’s collection, including one of the graduation photos from Hult.

It was strange looking at it now, knowing Saoirse had been the one to hold the camera that day.

That surreal feeling only took greater hold as she came across pictures of Eira and Saoirse together.

It was impossible to fully grasp how much their lives had been intertwined through the years.

She even saw a few of herself with Eira.

It wasn’t until she confirmed that Hugh was not present in any of the photos that she realized she’d been holding her breath.

She knew many had been taken when they were still together. Clearly Saoirse had been looking out for her and had purposefully omitted those.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Elis Goff step up to look at the altar, examining the objects carefully arranged on top.

He was tall, lanky in form, but handsome—and tanner than she recalled.

He had the lean muscle of a runner. His square jaw was lined with a perfectly groomed beard which shared the salt-and-pepper shade of his closely cropped hair.

He reached a hand into the pocket of his black suit jacket, produced a small metal flask, and took a surreptitious drink.

Immediately following, another man in a suit stepped up beside him, his back blocking Saga’s view of both. He attempted to speak in hushed tones, but Fitzrovia’s walls were made for resonance.

Saga, pretending to be oblivious, inclined her head toward them while admiring the wedding photo on the altar.

“Must you? Here?” The stranger disapproved. His voice was a warm baritone with a lilting brogue.

“I’m in mourning, doc. Call it self-medicating.”

“Do you really think that’s wise? With your liver?” There was a strange weight to the man’s words. “Are you trying to press your chances?”

“You were my mother’s physician, not mine. And unless you want to press your chances with a malpractice suit, I’d keep your opinions about my drinking habits to yourself.”

The doctor breathed heavily and turned to go, but Saga couldn’t let him so easily.

“Excuse me,” she said breathlessly, catching him as he stepped of the dais. “I’m so sorry, but aren’t you…Doctor…” Saga laughed uneasily. “Oh, I’m so terrible with names, but Eira spoke of you fondly, Doctor…”

The man regarded her in confusion but warmed to mild flattery. “Campbell. Alistair Campbell. And you are?”

“Saga Trygg,” she answered, hoping her name would be enough to dismiss any suspicion around false familiarity. As close as they may have been, Eira was not the sort to ever discuss her own medical struggles.

The recognition in his expression abated her worry. “Of course. Eira spoke of you often and fondly, as if you were her own.”

“She talked about me during her appointments?” Saga asked surprised.

“Sometimes, but I’ve been a friend of the family for years. You’re Saoirse’s granddaughter, are you not?”

Elis turned, one thick eyebrow quirked as if he were prepared to make a sharp comment, but instead Saga caught him by surprise.

His mien softened and he laughed. “No, I’m sorry, you can’t be Saga Trygg.

” He leaned down slightly and placed a hand just a little below his sternum.

“You were but this tall last I saw you.” An impish grin formed beneath the mustache of that well-coiffed beard as his hand then raised to her current height.

“Though, on second thought. I suppose not much has changed.”

Saga rolled her eyes. “And neither have you, Elis.”

“I think Mother said you’re studying medicine at Oxford now.”

Saga hesitated. There was always the chance she’d go back. Technically, she was on a break for the summer. “Yes.”

“Really?” Doctor Campbell smiled broadly. “That’s no small accomplishment. Congratulations. How far along are you?”

“I just wrapped my first foundation year,” said Saga. Secular or not, the idea of blatantly lying in a chapel didn’t sit well with her, and so she was grateful for questions that allowed her to merely skirt the full truth.

“Those were the best days,” mused Alistair Campbell. “Getting a taste for the field—pulling back the curtain on the inner workings of each specialization. Do you know where you might want to land yet? Anything really pulling your attention?”

“Em…” This was an opportunity. Saga knew if she played her cards right, she could leverage this conversation into the information she actually wanted. “Well, right now I’m really interested in forensic medicine, actually.”

Campbell was genuinely surprised. “Really? Why is that?”

“I like the puzzle of it.” Again, Saga did not lie.

“That’s like… autopsies, isn’t it?” Elis asked.

“Autopsies are responsible for a myriad of medical advancements,” said Saga. “They help save lives.”

“Seems gross,” disdained Elis.

“They’re not gross, they’re helpful.” Saga turned her attention back to Doctor Campbell. “Was there an inquest after Eira’s passing?”

Doctor Campbell shook his head. “There was no need. I’d been helping her manage her heart condition for years, but even with her resources and modern advancements, heart defects can still be rather unpredictable.”

“Oh…” Saga frowned. “I didn’t realize Eira’s heart trouble had been going on for so long.” This time she did lie, but it was in hopes that Doctor Campbell might feel compelled to share something she didn’t already know.

“I’m not surprised. I don’t imagine Eira or Saoirse would have wanted to burden you with that knowledge… But as a fellow medical professional, you probably know heart defects are common with cases of lymphedema-distichiasis.”

Saga nodded, wishing she had her old school textbooks with her.

Lymphedema, swelling due to excess fluid.

Though didn’t congestive heart failure cause lymphedema, not the other way around?

Or did she have it backward? No, they were linked.

One could cause the other from either end, that was it. “I had no idea.”

“Even after hearing him say it, I still have no idea,” interjected Elis. “And my mother still died, so let’s be honest, how much of an idea can he really have?”

Doctor Campbell breathed deeply as if to assuage the rising irritation becoming apparent in his face. “I suppose it’s fortunate then, Mr. Goff, that you did not inherit your mother’s disease.” He nodded to Saga. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Trygg. Please excuse me.”

Saga watched him depart to give his condolences to Cousin Carys before she glared back at Elis. “That was rude of you.”

“I really don’t like him,” said Elis.

“You don’t say?” Saga scrutinized the man in front of her. “I’m pretty sure half the funeral overheard the malpractice threat.”

Elis shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

“What part of your mother’s care do you feel he was negligent in?”

“His nurse certainly did most of the actual care, for one.”

“That’s how live-in nurses work, jackass, that’s not negligent or illegal.”

“Why are you defending him?”

“I’m not defending him, I’m defending the medical profession from a tantrum with a pocketbook,” sniped Saga.

Elis glared briefly before it melted into something resembling a contrite expression. “So… What exactly is lympha…de…nomasis?”

“Lymphedema-distichiasis syndrome,” Saga corrected.

Elis tapped the bridge of his nose and winked. “That one.”

“You mean to tell me your own mother had been living with a disease for years and you never bothered to ask what it was?”

“You didn’t know.”

“I wasn’t privy to the information—” Saga exhaled a growl of frustration. His mother was dead and he was obviously drunk. She should be more charitable. “I’m not a medical dictionary, but I know regular lymphedema has to do with excessive fluid in your lymphatic system.”

“Right… And that would be…?”

“The system of tubes that carry certain fluids through the body. Lipids, proteins, vitamins, pathogens…that kind of thing. It basically helps balance your fluids.”

Elis nodded thoughtfully but Saga suspected from his expression he still didn’t quite understand what she was talking about. “And how exactly would you know if your lymphatic system was too…fluidy?”

“Well, untreated, excess fluid can cause swelling, among other things.”

“How does that cause heart problems?”

“Your heart relies on cardiac lymphatics to drain tissue fluid in order to maintain intestinal fluid equilibrium.” Saga surprised herself with the answer. It had come so simply as if she were back at rounds, answering rapid fire questions.

His eyes widened. “That sounds serious.”

“Yes.”

“And it’s hereditary?”

“It can be.”

Elis looked like she’d slapped him across the face, and to be fair, she had been tempted.

Saga exhaled and attempted to get ahead of any hypochondria that might have been trying to rear its head in his inebriated state of mind.

“If you had swelling, you’d know it, Elis, but if you’re really that concerned, you should see a doctor.

Like that nice specialist you just chased away with a malpractice threat. ”

He squinted at her. “You were less intimidating when you were twelve.”

“I would imagine so,” said Saga cooly.

“You look better now, though.”

Ew.

“Real good.”

Please go away. “Thank you.”

“Better than good,” he clarified. “You…wow. And a doctor? Just wow. Beauty and brains.”

“Thank you,” Saga repeated, trying to emphasize the finality of the word and that she was not open to continuing that aspect of the conversation.

A moment passed before Elis leaned in and whispered, “This is where you say I also look good.”

“I don’t want to lie, we’re in a church.”

“Wow,” said Elis flatly, leaning back on his heels.

“You do look like you’ve had too much sun lately. I have some lotion in my bag if you start to peel,” she offered.