“Alright, but we do this carefully with my wife present and we stop if anything feels wrong,” Maxwell decided. The boy nodded immediately and agreed to the terms.
Inside the house, Bridgette looked at Maxwell with total disbelief. “Maxwell, he is just a child and we do not know him,” she whispered.
The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn notebook filled with careful drawings of plants and pressure points. “My grandmother wrote everything down and you can read it,” he said.
Bridgette flipped through the pages and saw that the instructions were written in neat, practiced handwriting. “Where is your grandmother now?” Bridgette asked.
The boy lowered his eyes and explained that she had passed away a few months ago. He said she told him to keep helping people, and Bridgette eventually agreed to let him try as long as she stayed in the room.
That afternoon, they placed Penelope’s feet in a basin of warm water mixed with fresh herbs from the garden. The boy worked gently by pressing small points along her feet and ankles while Maxwell watched closely.
“Do you feel anything?” the boy asked softly. Penelope closed her eyes and then said it felt like tiny bubbles inside her feet.