Baby, Page 5

  Before long, Netty found herself running back to the hospital to refill the wheelbarrow and pick up lunch as Baby continued to do the planting. By late afternoon Netty dripped with exhaustion. She glanced at Baby, now curled inside the empty wheelbarrow grinning at her with his amazing eyes doing their usual flashing. As tired as she felt, she still retained enough energy to scoop him into her arms and rub her face on his. Holding him on her hip like a mother would a child, she swung around to admire their work; row upon row of glowing greenery, corn, tomatoes, squash, beans, peppers, radishes, onions, watermelon, and honeydew. Even patches of strawberries and raspberries. Hmm, Netty thought, the plants sure appear taller from where I stand.

  “Sister, eat,” came the whispered aura in her mind.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she laughed. “Soon Baby. Now we must be patient while we wait for the plants to mature. We sure did a good job.” Turning her back to the crops, she plunked Baby down into the wheelbarrow and started down the road.

  Her thoughts were happy ones, full of her hopeful future. Now, she felt they stood a chance. Funny, how she automatically thought in terms of they. Yes, they could be a family, the two of them.

  She took a deep breath, drawing in the sweet twilight air, reminiscence of apple blossoms. She stopped suddenly; apple blossoms? She turned her nose and sniffed, the smell, deliciously overpowering. Dropping the wheelbarrow, she sprinted up the hill that branched off the road. Yes, the road to the orchard, struck dumb by her discovery. Tall, with straight clean trunks, they stood, bursting with blossoms; apple, crab apple, pear and wild cherry, and her beloved black walnut grove. This was impossible. What is going on here? Her gaze thoughtfully fell on Baby, as he followed her to the top of the hill. She stared back at the orchard, dumbfounded by the impossibility yet acknowledging a slow dawning of outrageous gratitude and smug security creeping into her consciousness as she began to accept their assured future. Suddenly, she sobered, her joy vanishing. She felt a chill and shivered. Could this be magic or the devil’s work, after all? Subdued, she gathered her wheelbarrow and made her way back to the cabin while her mind spun with confusion and possibilities.

  Netty sat in her rocking chair, pressed up to the evening fire with Baby as he lay on his spot on the straw mat. It was time for her to make some decisions and put this issue to bed. She realized she was a simple woman, but she truly felt that all creatures, including people, were all created by God. Without warning, a sleepy singsong whisper sang in her mind, a golden aura suffusing her mind’s vision.

  “God is Father, Father is Womb.” Netty reached over to Baby, shushing him. She needed a clear mind as she sorted out her feelings. She knew the country was young, much of it still not fully explored. There were many creatures that probably had just been discovered but the knowledge not yet widely known; such as Baby. Looking closely at Baby, she realized he did not resemble in whole or in part, anything she had ever seen before. He could walk upright (and perpendicular, she thought wryly) and his hands were similar enough to hers that he could perform tasks; basically, fairly normal, although his eyes certainly were difficult to explain. What about her seeds and the miracle in the orchard? God does make miracles but the presence of Baby seems more than a coincidence. As an afterthought, she rubbed her nose. This morning, upon awakening, she noticed what appeared to be peach fuzz on her head, filling in her bald spots. What more good fortune could happen to her? Not suspicious by nature, her natural inclination was to accept what clearly was sent by God. Should she take Baby back to the woods? What would that prove? Maybe Baby portended a good luck charm. Her good luck charm; yes … hers. Netty lay down next to Baby on the straw mat, scooping him into her arms. His warm little body shuttered, seemingly with relief. Netty’s heart felt full and complete as she carried Baby to bed.

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  Netty and Baby’s days passed with plenty of hard work. Netty ripped down a shed next to the barn, using the material to build her fruit stand on the road into town. Her crops were coming in gloriously. Her blossoms in the orchard produced huge lovely fruits, ripening splendidly in the sun. Her fruit trees evinced an unexpected growth spurt, adding height and girth needed to support the huge luscious fruits they spawned. And her berry patches ripened up for picking, a mere half handful, all that was needed to fill a pie. It was an exciting time. Her berry pies, baked in her mama’s bread oven were selling like crazy. She could not make them fast enough. She constructed a special picnic basket for Baby to hide in while she spent time with customers at the fruit stand. Word of her pies and amazing fruit traveled to town. The owner of one of the popular local taverns took it upon himself to ride out in his shiny new automobile to see her. She was now his exclusive supplier of fresh fruit pies. And he wanted to be the first to see her vegetable crop come harvest time. Netty was so busy, she hardly noticed she had slimmed down to a hard and strong figure. Easy to miss since she still wore the same clothes as when she met Baby. Unnoticed, her eyes took on a golden caste. Her hair grew in, long and lush, always pulled back and swept up in a ponytail just like her mama. Oddly, her hair seemed to be changing color as it grew in. It looked like spun gold. Hard won pride left a pretty smile on her face. Her days just got better and better.

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  Baby stretched quietly in his picnic basket. He gave up trying to remember the purpose of his mission. He casually wondered about the whereabouts of his offspring. Not that it mattered. His species was fully prepared to face life upon Emergence, as they were born with the memory of their eternal history.

  His life with his new Sister passed quite pleasantly, his species not meant to be alone. He did not understand many of her customs, but not much seemed to be required of him, so he fell into an easy routine. Shockingly, he began to accept the fact that here on this planet, his physiology behaved differently. Luckily, it appeared he no longer ran the risk of expiration.

  Occasionally, his mind turned back to the moment he met his new Sister. He felt a twinge of fear as he realized the life force he called to feed on turned out to be a Sister, a grave mistake as it was always forbidden to heal a human. He should have waited before he sent her his grateful healing. He wondered if he angered the Womb with his carelessness. Unfortunately, he could not stop himself when she touched him; he automatically helped himself to her life force. That in itself was allowed. It was just the bad timing of the state of what Sister called eating, the unexpected changes to his molecular structure brought on by his penetration into this new atmosphere, and the shocking discovery that his tail had fully evolved. Only Elders sported fully evolved tails. Only Elders could heal other organisms. The control over his tail nonexistent, the ability to discriminate, temporarily arrested. He knew it was sinful to heal a Sister of this planet, so he carefully kept his eyes on her, watching for the signs. So far, her changes did not frighten him. If she began to develop signs of an Elder, he knew the Womb might decide to take action. He had no idea what the Womb might do to punish him. After all, it was well-known throughout most universes that the Womb resented the humans because of the defiance their creation represented.

  Addressing his attention to his tail again, he felt the weight of the new membrane, all doubt removed. It was fully mature and functioning. He tested it on the Sister’s trees that were dying and on the tiny buttons she called seeds. Some were already dead. No help for them. But the rest were easy to correct. A gift; he did it happily for Sister; she seemed so distraught over the dead ones. He recognized they involved something to do with her eating. He sure knew how important that was. Warily, he considered what the maturity of his tail portended. Surely, he was on his way to being the first Elder of his species in a millennium; and along with that came, of course, immortality. Did the Womb realize this would happen? Did it have anything to do with his long forgotten mission? Baby stuck his head out of the picnic basket, looked around, climbed out, shuffled his way behind the fruit stand, lay down, stretched out his extremities and started to eat.

  Chapter 4

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bsp; Wil emerged from his room for the last time. He saw that the sky was gloomy and overcast. He did not do well on days like this. He always felt depressed when the sun went into hiding. He already said goodbye to his pa and ma last night. His two brothers were not interested in his affairs, so goodbyes were not needed. He felt he was leaving very little behind. His pa and ma had income from the large boarding house that had been in his Italian father’s family for generations. Both of his older brothers still lived at home with no signs of wanting to take a bride. He knew his pa and ma would be looked after. He sure would miss his ma. He favored her with his bright clear blue eyes. She was Irish, from a big family. He had hopes that someday he would have a family full of healthy little boys and pretty little girls. He thought of all the time he had wasted on his halfhearted courting of Lexa, the only daughter of an Italian family from a town next to Boontown, where his family lived. More accurately, it really was a case of her courting him. She was a big unfortunate looking girl, very domineering, with a negative habit of constantly belittling him. Let’s face it, she was a beast. With him out of the running, he was sure she would have little chance of another suitor. Why he allowed himself to get involved was beyond him. His desire to have a family sure overruled his common sense.

  Wil Capaccino was a quiet young man of twenty-one years, medium height but well-built with strong shoulders. His expression was sober and guileless, but when he smiled and those beautiful blue eyes lit up, he could melt the hardest anvil. Of course, he was completely unaware of this. He thought himself a fair carpenter and was not afraid to put in a hard day of work. And he was funny. He loved to make his friends laugh. He would miss them.

  He saved much of the wages from the last few years, only spending for presents for his ma and the occasional outing with Lexa when he could not avoid her. His ma had a hard life, caring for both of Wil’s grannies, the boarders, his brothers and his pa. He would really miss her. But he knew it was time. If he was to make a stab at finding a full life for himself, he had to leave the small predominantly Italian town he grew up in. Norris County was not big enough to escape the wrath of Lexa’s Neanderthal brothers so he thought he would strike out for Sussex County. A man could find plenty of work in the farms that surrounded the country towns. Hopefully, he would find the right little valley where he could buy himself a few acres of good bottom land and settle down.

  Saddling up his mare Maggie, he checked his bed roll and camping supplies. He wondered if he should bring another blanket, for winter hovered right around the corner. Dismissing the necessity, he mounted Maggie, tipped his hat to his boyhood home and took off down the trail.

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  Events chugged along nicely for Netty as the end of the brutal winter neared. A single day did not go by for want of food to eat. Netty loved to go down into the deep root cellar she paid to have dug last summer. It was extra-large to handle all of the labors of her canning. She felt rich and accomplished. Her shelves gleamed with glass, reflecting the beautiful deep colors produced by her fertile field with her vigorous plants that amazingly produced sizes and quantities of fruits and vegetables never before seen in this part of the country, or maybe even the world. She prayed that the seeds she collected for next season’s planting would be just as prolific.

  As the news of her successful farming spread, townspeople would show up at her door looking to trade goods for a sample of her home cooked goodies. As a result, the cabin looked much warmer and more cheerful. Bouncy chintz curtains at her windows, braided hooked rugs on the polished wooden floor. A stunning quilt lay across her bed; a gift for herself that she purchased from the church ladies on her last trip into town. She now owned her own horse and wagon, a huge extravagance but a necessary one. She found it so much easier to carry her wares into town to sell rather than risk someone catching sight of Baby. It was bad enough she took chances whenever she traded her crops and pies for repairs or construction around the cabin. Baby developed a set of horns that were becoming more pronounced. Mature and elegant, they took on the sheen and hardness of solid gold. They sprouted up in such a growth pattern that they were growing through his crown of crystal antlers. When she stroked them, they felt warm and alive, way too tempting for many local hunters. She was afraid Baby might catch someone’s fancy and when she turned her back, he would be gone.

  Her relationship with Baby grew closer than ever. Most of the winter they stayed lost in their own world. Baking by day and enjoying the fire, curled up on Baby’s straw bed near the fireplace that roared all day into the night. There had been only one strange incident.

  It was the afternoon before the Sabbath. She dragged a rug outside to beat it over by the woodpile, sneezing as the dust rose from the rug to tickle her nose. Baby joined her, lying in the snow doing his normal eating. It seemed to be a common practice. She now took it for granted, realizing it must be necessary. Baby said he was eating and she believed him. She figured it must have something to do with the sun. Baby once sent whispers and golden rainbow colors to her mind, attempting to explain something about molecular biology, kinetic energy and the evolution of organic chemistry and electrical current conversions. The terms were so foreign; she gave up trying to understand.

  Completing the beating of the rug, she carried it back into the cabin. As she gathered up another rug for the woodpile, she heard a knock at the door. Opening the door, she stepped out to the stoop to see a trapper holding up a bloodied, wriggling snow rabbit. The rabbit’s legs were horribly broken, evidence of a cruel steel trap. The trapper offered the rabbit in exchange for some dinner and lodging in her brand new barn. Before she could respond, she felt the familiar pressure accompanied by the smell of sulfur. Glancing worriedly to the woodpile behind the trapper’s back, she saw Baby’s glorious tail at attention and the strange frightening membrane protruding. Before the trapper could question the sudden strange smell, his crippled rabbit jumped from his arms and quickly scampered down the road. Netty quickly shooed the trapper away with a gift of a golden raspberry pie. As soon as she saw him down the road, she gathered Baby up in her overcoat and ran to the cabin, quickly bolting it from inside, her heart beating uncontrollably. She shook her head at Baby. How to explain the danger and risk if Baby was not more careful displaying his more flamboyant talents?

  Her mind flashed with rainbows and whispers. “I am Elder now, Sister. Such is my imperative.” Elder? Has Baby gotten old?

  “Baby, how old are you? Where are your parents, your mommy and daddy?”

  “No parents, only Brothers and Sisters. I do not know old. I will be always.” Baby’s cryptic comments only befuddled her. No matter how she asked, she could not get clarification. So begging Baby to be more aware, she dropped the subject. She needed to get to the barn to milk the cows after collecting them from the fields.

  Netty’s new pride and joy was her fledgling herd of Jerseys. If four could be considered a herd. She had great hopes for spring calving. She would love to add butter, cheese and milk to her deliveries. Baby was an unexpected help at harvest time, but she could sure use some extra hands, she thought. It was clear she was spreading herself thin. Netty asked Baby to remain in the cabin while she milked the cows. She reached for her boots and her overcoat. Bending down to put on her boots, she winced, feeling her tail bone ache as if it was badly bruised. Feels a bit worse, she thought, having noticed the pain about a week ago. Straightening up, she buttoned up her overcoat and prepared to tramp through the snow along the winding path that the herd created moving back and forth from the field to the barn.

  The cold felt particularly bitter. Netty thought she should have brought the herd in earlier, but she dawdled, trying to conserve the herd’s hay, stored safely in the new barn. The more they grazed under the snow the longer the hay would last. As the little herd spotted her, they came running. They knew her appearance meant they were going back to their warm barn to be milked. As they ran ahead, Netty noticed a flicker of light through the trees. Was someone camping on her property?
She did not mind as long as they passed through quickly. She had to wonder if they were gypsies. Now that the farm was becoming prosperous, she was bound to become a target for petty theft. Glancing back at the herd, she saw they had disappeared from sight, well on their way back to the barn. Oh well, she thought. Better check this out. She regretted not bringing her Winchester with her. Shrugging to herself, she carefully made her way through four-foot snowdrifts to the woods on the other side of the field. Climbing the split rail fence, she listened for voices, trying to get an idea of what she was up against. She found the silence ominous.

  Creeping ever so slowly, she got nearer and nearer until she realized the light was not from a fire. On a rock near the fire sat a small kerosene lantern. A horse snorted at her approach, very skittish, very skinny. As Netty approached the remains of a fire, she knelt down to feel the burnt embers; cold. And very wet. She looked up and saw a fir tree standing over the fire. Who would be so foolish as to build a fire under a snow laden tree? Standing, she silently surveyed the clearing, her eyes coming to rest on a large dark lump in the snow. Cautiously, she approached the lump. She startled, suppressing a scream as the lump moved. It emitted a hack and a cough. It was a man; what appeared to be a solitary man. She could handle that. Gently, she poked him with her foot.

  “Hello there, sir.” With no reply she began to wonder if he was injured. Kneeling down, she took his arm and gently rolled him over. He was sick, that was for sure. She could see the fever, his cheeks flushed, his body shaking with chills and ice coating his dark mustache and beard. He appeared to be youngish but all further examination would need to wait. If she left him out here, she doubted he and his horse would make it. Well, she thought, if she had been able to cure little creatures as a child, why not a big one, now that she was a grown woman?