Chapter 3

3: 3

3

I went to the village office to fetch water.

Through the window I saw her sitting across from the official, her tongue running a mile a minute.

"Sir, Felicia's mother practicing without a license was against the rules to begin with. If you hand the welfare quota to someone who just got investigated, doesn't the village carry the liability? When the higher-ups ask later and it looks like we're covering for unlicensed practice, who takes the fall for that?"

The official's pen paused mid-air.

Winifred switched to a tearful register.

"And think how hard things are for my Delia. She just had a boy, her milk's come in poorly, we can barely scrape together the money for formula, never mind that she wants to start something, open a clinic here in the village, treat people for their ailments..."

I stood outside the door with the empty bucket in hand.

Wind pushed through the gap in the door, and Winifred's voice came thin and shrill, like a rusted wire scraping at your ears.

Right as she was talking, Cedric came in, leaning on his cane.

"Sir, I owe my life to Felicia's mother. Fall of '73, I had dysentery so bad I was wasting away, dehydrated. The town hospital wouldn't take me. She sat with me three days and three nights, fed me the medicine one spoon at a time. You won't find that in any file, but you go ask anyone over seventy in this village who hasn't been helped by her."

The official's face pinched. He hemmed and hawed, unable to get out anything proper.

Winifred jumped in at once, her tone earnest, every word closing the trap tighter.

"Cedric, now that's not fair of you to say. These days it's about helping the most deserving. Delia is a proper medical school graduate. She can work with the village on health outreach and help folks get treated the right way."

"Felicia's mother was mixed up in illegal practice before. That was against the rules to start with, so how can she take up a welfare quota on top of it? If the higher-ups catch wind, the whole village gets dragged into it."

A few sentences, and just like that, my mother's years of silent sacrifice were branded a stain on the village.

More and more people from Whitney Hollow crowded into the council office.

Delia spoke up at the right moment, her voice cool, carrying a fairness that looked down on everyone.

"Uncles, aunties, I'm not fighting for a handout. It's just that rules come first, feelings second. Reporting her, going after the quota, it was all for the good of the village."

"I just had a baby, things really are hard at home, and I really can put proper medical training to work for everyone. Giving me this quota makes sense, it's fair, and it's within the law."

I nearly laughed listening to it. Now I finally understood why Delia had reported my mother.

I pushed my way through the huddle of people, stepping up to stand in front of Delia,

every word clear, neither cowed nor overbearing.

"Fair and reasonable? When you reported my mother, where was your sense of fairness then?"

"My mother practiced her whole life without taking a cent, and you stand on her kindness to collect a subsidy. That's your idea of fair and reasonable?"

Delia's face stiffened, then went cold again in an instant, her tone turning to a lecture.

"Felicia, I already told you, these are the rules. Personal feelings can't override regulations."

Winifred backed her up right away, pitching her voice higher, making sure everyone heard.

"My Delia is just too honest! Not like some people, leaning on guilt and morals to strong-arm their way into public benefits!"

The crowd went silent for a beat, then a low murmur rose.

"The rules did come down from above, they can't just be broken. Delia's educated, she knows the policies. Give her the quota and she can steer the village's health guidance the proper way. That's surely safer than handing it to someone who doesn't know the rules."

"Felicia's mother got caught practicing without a license. Give her welfare and it'll only bring trouble down on Whitney Hollow!"

"At the end of it, Felicia's mother was practicing without a license and using us as test subjects first. We can't go making a model out of someone who broke the rules. Delia may have reported her, but she went by the policy, and I hear the higher-ups even handed out a reward for it."

The resident official paced back and forth three times with a cigarette between his fingers, then sighed.

"The welfare quota touches on policy red lines. Felicia's mother's situation... it really is contested. Let it go to Delia for now. She just graduated and came back to the village to start something, she's from a medical university, she fits the new direction for rural medical welfare."

Winifred squeezed to the very front of the crowd, wiped at her tears, and bowed.

"Thank you, sir! Thank you to the leaders for looking after us! My Delia will work hard, and from now on when folks in the village need to see a doctor, they can all come to her, twenty percent off, every time!"

She bit down on those last words, twenty percent off, loud and heavy.

The villagers gathered at the door froze for a moment, and then someone said quietly,

"Delia's clinic is going to charge us? Felicia's mother saw us free of charge for decades."

Winifred turned back at once. "Folks, that's different. Delia's clinic measures up to the town hospital and the county hospital. Her treatment process is proper and sound, and her medicine and methods are all approved from above. Don't you go lumping the two together."

Once she said that, everyone's doubts vanished.

The look on every face seemed to say the same thing: free could never be as good as paid for.

I looked at this crowd of neighbors past all saving.

I didn't argue anymore. I turned and left.

Three days later, Imogen Finch from the neighboring Finchville came to our house.

Her cloth shoes were caked with mud, and the moment she saw my mother, her knees buckled and she dropped down.

"Auntie! I'm begging you, save the people in our village. Everyone's come down with the flu, and calling 911 gets you nowhere near the front of the line!"