Holiday Reading
a variety of herbs, applied both inter- would come back and claim what was “I have not cured you for this.” Fab-
nally and externally. He spooned thin mine. He feared that greatly. When we rizio stood and shook his head, a
soup into the patient, kept him cool took ill, my father and I, I was too pained expression on his face. “No. I
when he was hot and warmed him weak to resist when he dragged us to have not cured you for this. You must
when he was cold. the cart, and my father … my father, not kill. I have not cured you so you
One morning the stranger awoke, his where is he?” can take another’s life.”
eyes wide and clear. “I believe you have “Gone to God, my son. He died in Rodolfo spoke calmly. “Padre, the
saved me, padre. I must thank you.” the reeds where you were left.” cure is a gift — once given, it no longer
“It’s nothing,” said the priest. “What Again he gazed out the window. belongs to you.”
is your name?” “I see.”
“I am called Rodolfo.” “Rest now. Rest. I will get you some Mark Frutkin
“Tell me what happened. Who left soup.” Novelist and poet
you to die in the reeds, and why?” Ottawa, Ont.
Rodolfo turned his pockmarked ***
The author adapted this story from his
face to the window. “My brother. For
novel, Fabrizio’s Return (Knopf Canada,
years he has longed to keep our fa- A day later, Rodolfo stood at the 2006), which received the Trillium Book