Emily? Is that you? I said, halfamused, as the former schoolmate swung the door open.
We hadnt seen each other in about a year, yet shed called out of the blue and invited me over. Emily never had the delicate frame of a runway model; shed always been a bit roundboned and never minded it. Shed married the love of her life, had a child, and never known the word poor. So when she stood there, thin as a reed, eyes rimmed with dark circles, I blinked.
How many pounds have you shed? I asked, trying not to sound too nosy.
Twenty already, and the scale keeps dropping. Happy? No, thats why I called you, she replied, gesturing toward the kitchen. If you dont know whats wrong, you shouldnt have called me; you should have called Dr. Victor, our family doctor.
Emily poured tea, a forlorn look in her eyes. All the tests are normal, nothing shows up. Remember the story you told me about your university mate, Lucy, and what happened to her? The doctors found nothing there either, right?
Yes, I said, recalling the incident. But you never believed in that sort of thing, did you?
I didnt, until Im not sure what to believe any more.
Tell me then, I urged, keen to hear what had really happened to Emily.
It all started six months ago, she began, chopping cucumber for a salad just as I was. I was slicing away when suddenly time seemed to freeze. The cucumber never ran out, no matter how much I cut. You know Im not one for the supernatural, at least I wasnt.
Interesting start, I mused, a selfconfessed fan of oddities.
I hadnt even processed what was happening when the doorbell rang, dragging me out of my trance. I looked through the peepholenobody. I thought maybe the kids were playing a prank. I opened the door and found a parcel on the step. I nudged it aside, but some part of me urged me to peek inside.
Inside was an old icon, the kind youd see in an ancient parish church.
Seeing my silent question, Emily reassured me. Its definitely old. My uncle Peter runs an antique shop; he confirmed it and even offered a decent sum for it.
And you? I thought you never went to church, I said, surprised.
I remembered my grandmothers tale about a miracle icon by a holy spring. Supposedly it would appear at the spring, be taken to the church three times, then return to the spring on its own. So when this one chose me, I thought Id let it stay.
Remarkable, I said, genuinely impressed. Ive never heard of an icon picking its own owner in modern times.
Emily sighed. The strange things started about a week later. First, our cat Whiskers, a healthy, fullyvaccinated youngster, vanished. He used to chase a fake mouse around the flat every night, but one morning he didnt answer the call. We buried him in the pet cemetery.
Before I could finish my condolence, my motherinlaw called from the local urgent care centre: shed slipped on a level floor and broken her leg. I rang my husband, asking him to pick her up, but he told me hed just been made redundant from his wellpaid job and was offered a shabby new position.
Emily, I said, halfjoking, do you think the icon is bringing trouble into your house?
Everyone warned me, but I thought they were jealous, that Id found something valuable by accident, she retorted.
Accident? I questioned. Someone slipped that parcel under your door. Its a a cover, isnt it?
Can you really make a cover out of an icon? Emily wondered, It depicts the Queen of Heaven herself.
Thats what well have to find out, I said, leaning in. Now, what happened next?
Emily took a breath and went on. Our little boy fell ill and spent a month in hospital. I started dieting, thinking the stress was making me lose weight. I was running back and forth to the shop, cooking, and still trying to keep my job. My husband took a new job, but it pays half what he earned before. Vassilyour sonwas discharged, healthy as ever, but the pounds kept melting away. I thought of Lucys case again: doctors could find nothing.
I nodded. Tell me the Lucy story again.
Before our finals, my friend Tina and her cousin Nina organized a picnic. We each had a boyfriend, and the guys agreed to camp by the river that night. On the way we got lost in the woods. Nina sprinted ahead, found a silk scarf hanging on a branch, tied it around her neck, and suddenly the path to the river appeared.
Thats no ordinary scarf, she laughed.
Better not take other peoples, Tina warned. Who knows where it came from?
Someone must have dropped it, Nina shrugged, Its beautiful, Ill keep it.
We rested, caught fish, swam, cooked a stew, sang around the fire, and drank a little wine. The next morning we packed up, but Nina was pale, her head throbbing. We managed to get her home, and her boyfriend Kostya carried her the rest of the way.
Soon Nina grew gaunt, failed her exams, and was placed on medical leave. Doctors ran tests, found nothing. I went to Ninas mother and asked for the scarf; she gave it to me. I took it to the town of Whitby, an hour out by train, to see Aunt Ursula, who was reputed to cure the incurable when doctors gave up.
Ursula examined the scarf, the photo of Nina, and said, A bad thing has travelled through that scarf. Its a cover. The illness isnt physical but energetic. Since you brought it in time, we can help. She buried the scarfs ashes under a hedgerow, brewed a herbal brew, and gave it to Nina. She drank it, brightened up, and left the hospital.
Maybe we should take the icon to Ursula too? Emily said, a hint of hope in her voice.
We did, but Ursula had passed away. We arrived at her funeral, met her daughter, Sister Maria, a nun who had held the icon in holy water and prayed over it. She arranged for it to be taken to the parish church for blessing.
Thats how Emilys troubles stopped. She recovered, regained her health, and soon gave birth to a baby girl she named Molly.
