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“My job isn’t always to keep you safe,” said her mother. “My job is to teach you to keep yourself safe. The ocean can be beautiful and serene, but it’s so much more than that, Augusta. It can be overwhelming. Sometimes it can be dangerous. Its complexity is what makes it so special. There is always another wave forming in the distance. Some turn out to be only ripples, but some may head toward you at full speed.”
If I had been born a man, they would have called me an apothecary. Perhaps even a doctor, if I’d had the training. But because I was born a woman, they called me a witch instead. To ignorant men, every gifted woman is a witch.”
“Must words be complicated or unusual for us to believe in them?”
“Words can do anything,” she said. “A kind word can fix a person’s spirit. A cruel one can break a person’s heart. Wicked words have caused wars, and honest words have made peace. Why shouldn’t they be able to heal?”
Augusta Stern knew exactly who she was—a woman of science like her father, an old-world healer like her aunt. She believed in medicine and in miracles. She believed in family and in love. She believed in the power of moonlight in kitchens, in the power of women, in the power of words. She believed that even on life’s darkest days, a bowl of chicken soup could offer comfort.
