An apothecary should never be out of spirits. —  Richard Brinsley Sheridan

The pounding of pestle on mortar filled the medium-sized cottage.  

Paloma dipped a finger into the smooth paste and grinned in satisfaction. It was a job well done. She tipped the mortar over and an evergreen liquid flowed into a glass cylindrical bottle.

"Why don't you ever use the blender?" An exasperated voice sounded from the doorway. 

"Because according to the myth, blending the herbs can jeopardize their potency." Paloma looked at her elder sister and grinned. 

"Pffft, I don't believe it." 

"That's you and many others." Paloma laughed. "Anyway, how was work today?" She plucked off leaves from their stocks and placed them neatly in the mortar. 

"Stressful," Iris replied and moved closer. "The parents came to complain about the increase in the school fees." She plucked off one leaf and rolled it between her fingers. 

"Oh no, that's no fun!" Paloma scowled.

"I know right? They need to understand that with the rise of the tax rate, the price of everything will increase." Frustration filled her voice. 

Paloma heaved a tired sigh."It is truly a trying time for all of us." Her brows scrunched up. "But I know the Lord will see us through." Her lips curled into a smile.

"Yeah, that's the comfort." A mixture of weary and hope was visible in Iris's tone. "Anyway, I better go prepare Lunch." She wiped her hands and picked up her bag.

"Yeah; Mamá should be rousing from her afternoon nap." Paloma's eyes drifted to the egg-shaped clock that hung on the opposite wall. 

"Yeah, she should. See you soon." She smiled and turned to go. 

The door clicked shut behind Iris. And Paloma was left in silence. The chirping of birds filled the background. Minutes turned into hours and she continued her work of pounding herbs and transferring them into jars of various sizes and shapes. 

However, suddenly, a loud bang shook the walls of the cottage. 

"Miss Paloma!" A panic-ridden female voice called from the door. 

Paloma looked up and worry filled her eyes. She rushed out of her chair and raced to the figures at the door. 

"What happened to him?" She asked as she wrapped her hand around the boy who was hunched over and groaning in pain. 

"I don't know," The woman's voice cracked. "We paid a visit to my sister's and we had some pies. After eating it he complained about a stomach ache. And the pain grew worse." She sniffled.

Paloma's mind raced with different thoughts. "What other symptoms does he have?" 

"He vomited twice after getting home. And he said he had difficulty breathing." 

Paloma silently nodded with furrowed eyes. She led the boy over to the bed that stood in the left-hand corner of the cottage. A groan escaped the boy's lips and Paloma's heart squeezed in pain. 

"Please have your seat," She told the woman after she laid the boy on the bed.

The woman took a seat on the chair next to her desk and Paloma took her place by the boy's side. "What were the pies made with?" She asked after examining the boy.  

"Cinnamon."

"Has he had them before?" 

"No, that was his first." 

"Hmm, it probably didn't sit well with him." She gave a thoughtful look. Compassion filled her as the boy writhed in pain.

"Is he going to be okay?" Fear filled the woman's eyes.

"Of course." She smiled, crossed over, and opened the cabinet filled with various bottles and jars. "After having a bit of my special Butterbur extract, he will be good as new." A kind smile appeared on Paloma's face.

"Oh, thank goodness." The woman breathed a sigh of relief. 

Paloma turned around and produced a little round bowl and spoon. With utmost expertise, she filled the bowl with the right amount of liquid needed. The bed dipped as she took a seat beside the boy. 

With gentility and care, she raised the boy to a sitting position. His face contorted with pain from the movement. "Here you go." She raised a spoonful of liquid to his lips. 

After a moment of hesitancy, he sipped and swallowed it. 

"Ahh, it's bitter!" He shook his head and his lips formed a scowl.

"Most medicines are." A chuckle escaped Paloma's lips as she brought another spoon to his lips.

He huffed in response and begrudgingly took the next spoon. Minutes later with a few more complaints, the bowl was emptied. 

"Good boy!" Paloma smiled as the boy turned, curled on his side, and closed his eyes. 

"He will be a lot better when he wakes up." She turned to the woman and gave her a reassuring smile. 

"Thank you so much."

Paloma smiled again and went over to the sink. She washed the bowl and spoon and put them away. She whirled around and connected with the woman's eyes. 

"Are you alright?" She asked as the woman stared at her with fear and misery.

"I have something to say," she said and diverted her eyes away. 

"And what is It?" Paloma moved closer to her.

"Well, um. . ." she paused and wrung her fingers. "Well, I have no money to pay for the treatment." Tears of defeat filled her eyes. "So you may have to stop his treatment." Her voice cracked at the end. 

Paloma's eyes glistened and a frown marred her face. She set her jaw and placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "No need to worry about it. His treatment will continue." Her eyes filled with determination, "and without any payments." 

"Oh my God," the woman breathed out in shock. "Thank you!" Tears of gratitude spilled out on her cheeks. And she stared at Paloma with awe."You are a lifesaver, do you know that?" She reached out and gripped Paloma's hands. "You and your parents are the best." 

Paloma smiled. "Don't mention it! I am only doing my duty." She squeezed the woman's hand and let go. 

Satisfaction brimmed within Paloma because she had yet again fulfilled the vow she made to herself, her parents, and most especially God. She aimed to help the sick and she would do it without thinking of payments. 

"Let me make a cup of coffee for us while we wait for the chap to wake up." She grinned. 

"Thank you," The woman whispered with a voice thick with emotion.

She smiled and moved across to the stove and placed a kettle on it. A few minutes later, both women held a steaming cup of coffee. To fill the silence, the women engaged in conversations that revolved around the activities and events that had taken place around the town recently.

The afternoon passed and the sun began to fade away. A ruffling sound alerted the women.

"Tommy!" The woman cried out with joy.

Paloma turned and watched the boy rise from his sleep. She grinned as the boy effortlessly dragged himself into a sitting position. 

"How are you, dear?" She walked over to him and examined him. 

"Fine, ma'am," he muttered with a hoarse voice. 

"Good; have this." She handed him a glass of water she filled from the jar she placed by his side while he slept. 

"Any tummy ache?" 

"No!" 

"Do you feel like vomiting?" 

"No!"

Paloma grinned. "That means you are almost as good as new." 

The boy nodded and looked at her. "But I feel a little weak."

Paloma smiled again. "That's understandable. Everything took a lot out of you." 

"I am so glad you are okay." The woman came over and hugged him. "I was so scared." Her voice filled with anguish. 

Paloma smiled as the mother and son clung to each other. No one wants to be in pain—and a mother never wants to see her child in pain.

And so they spent the next few minutes going over the precautions they had to take from that time onwards. Paloma slipped a bottle of butterbur extract Into the woman's hand. The boy was to take two spoons for the next two days and the thought of doing that caused the boy to grimace. 

With a few words of farewell, the mother and son strolled out leaving Paloma behind to close up the shop. 

                       ★★★★★

White sparkles dotted the sky and the white globe cast a silvery glow on the objects on earth. Darkness had descended over the earth. 

Paloma climbed up the steps leading to the front porch of her house. The heavy oak door creaked as she pushed it open. Golden streaks of light welcomed her and illuminated the figure in the middle of the room. 

Timothy Jaramilo sat on the couch engrossed in the town's newspaper—The Fort's Times. A cup of tea sat on the stool beside him. 

She shut the door and walked further in. "Good evening, Papa!" Paloma crossed over and placed a kiss on his cheeks. 

He looked and smiled. "Evening, Cupcakes!" Dimples appeared on his face as he smiled. "How was it?" He closed the newspaper and folded it.

Paloma's eyes sparkled. "I enjoyed inhaling the different fragrances of the herbs." A happy smile spread across her lips. 

"Of course, you did." He chuckled. "That was what drew you into the medical business, wasn't it?" 

Paloma laughed."You got it!" Her eyes gleamed with mirth. 

Timothy chortled. "Did anything eventful happen today?" 

"Not really!" However, she stilled and her shoulders slumped as something came to mind. And she said, "Mrs. Bailer brought her son, Tommy, today; he reacted negatively to some cinnamon pies he had."

"Oh?" Worry clouded the man's mind. "I hope it wasn't too serious?"

"No; it is under control now!" 

"Ah, I thank the Lord for that!" Relief sounded in his voice. 

 
"But something else happened, Papá!" She looked at her father. "Something that saddened me." 

"And what was it?" The older man looked at her with curiosity and maybe fear. 

"Mrs. Bailer said she didn't have money to pay me so she thought I would stop the treatment." Her eyes filled with tears as the look of defeat in the woman's eyes flooded her mind.

"Oh no, that's not good at all." A deep frown marred his face. Then he turned to face her and leaned closer. "I hope you didn't stop the treatment because of that?" He stared at her with a mixture of fear and hope. 

"Of course, I didn't, Papà!" she exclaimed. "I could never do that!" She shook her head at the thought of doing that. 

"Good; that is good!" He patted her hands softly. "I am proud of you!" A smile cracked on his lips.

Paloma looked at her father whose eyes shone with pride. And a sense of accomplishment washed over her. 

"I am just following the teachings of you and Mamá."

Timothy's smile grew wider. "I am glad that you are." 

"How was work? Were the rumors true?" Paloma asked after a few moments of silence. 

"Oh yes, they were. It caused quite a stir." Timothy chuckled. 

"Oh? How so?" Paloma shifted in her seat. 

"Well, excitement bubbled in the hearts of the workers at the expectation of meeting the anonymous owner of the company." A thoughtful look crossed his face. "Everyone strived to impress the person who controls their paychecks."

"That's understandable! I would have probably glued my eyes to the window with the hope of catching the first glimpse of him." Paloma laughed and pictured herself doing as she said. 

"And I don't blame them; with the way things are, people don't want to risk losing their jobs."

"Well, I do not doubt that you would have done that." Timothy grinned at her. "You have always been fond of finding out new things." His eyes sparkled with affection. 

"And true, true; I agree; with the influx in things, a job is a precious gem." 

Paloma gave a satisfying grin in response. "Anyway, tell me—what's he like?" Her body leaned forward and she gazed at her father with eyes gleaming with excitement and curiosity.

"Well, what can I say? Mr. Newt, as we call him, resembles the animal in many ways." Mischief sparkled in his eyes. 

"Oh my word, that is so hilarious!" Paloma said as her shoulders shook with laughter. 

"Ahh, I am glad my boss could make you laugh." His cheeks puffed up as he struggled to hold his laughter in. 

But he couldn't help it and soon both father and daughter fell into a fit of laughter. 

Several minutes later with only the chirping of crickets in the background, the duo yawned in unison. Their eyes connected and they grinned. 

"I guess it's time we head to bed," Paloma said and swiftly rose from her seat. 

"You got that right; my old bones need some rest." He smirked. 

Paloma giggled. "Oh come on, Papá, you are not so old."

"Well, yeah, true; I am not too old to get a good night hug from my daughter?" His eyes danced with mirth.  He spread out his arms with a smile. 

"Of course not!" She grinned and gladly went into his arms. 

"Good night, Papà," she said as she released him. 

"Night, night, Cupcakes." He pressed a kiss on her forehead and moved back. 

With one more smile, they went their separate ways. Timothy to the west of the house and Paloma up the stairs. 

Paloma trudged up the steps and entered her room. She scanned the space to make sure things were the way she loved them—neat and clean. With one more thing to do, she went about her night routine and finally found herself in front of her bed. 

With a tired sigh, she dropped beneath the covers, said her night prayer, and slipped into a world of dreams. A world where there was unlimited happiness. A world where the fear of the unknown didn't reside in the hearts of the people.

               ★★★★★★

Ayy, we finally met Paloma as an apothecary. And I must say she is good with her job. XD

But aww, poor Tommy. I feel bad for him because cinnamon is such a wonderful thing. Don't you think so?

Anyway, don't forget to 👇
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Until next time, remain in high spirits 😁