Mahrree was in a deep sleep when she felt a presence hovering over her. She opened her eyes and gasped.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” Deck said in a low voice, uncomfortable to be in his in-laws bedroom. “It’s Jaytsy. She thinks the baby’s coming, but she’s not sure. She wants you to come over so I can get Mrs. Braxhicks.”
Perrin mumbled into his pillow as Deck dashed out the door, “Did Deck hit his head again?”
“No,” Mahrree said, quickly getting up. “It’s Jaytsy.”
“Jaytsy hit her head?”
Mahrree put her lips next to his ear. “No, Grandpy.”
Perrin’s eyes opened at that. “Finally?”
“Maybe,” Mahrree said, dressing hastily. She glanced out the window. It was still dark, but dawn would be coming soon. “Come over later to find out. I might not be able to leave.”
“I’m not catching anything wet and slippery.”
“Trust me, no one wants you to.”
She jogged over to the Briters and opened the door just as Deck was coming out to retrieve Clark.
“If this isn’t the real thing, I don’t want to be around when it is!”
Mahrree found Jaytsy sitting on the sofa, momentarily fine.
“It’s Shem and Calla’s doing,” she said. “The baby’s always most active when Shem’s around, but last night it could barely move when he put his hand on my belly. Calla rubbed her hands, put them on my belly next to his, and said, ‘Time to come out, little one!’ She said she does that for her sisters when they’re expecting, and if it’s a girl it’s born by the next day. Boys take another week before they come.” Jaytsy started to laugh, but her face contorted as a wave of pain overcame her.
Mahrree nodded encouragingly as Jaytsy breathed through it. “Worse than when we were in Edge?”
“Much,” she gasped.
“Good!”
“Must also mean it’s a girl,” Jaytsy said when she could speak again. “Deck’s little insulter is coming to live with us today.” She struggled to get to her feet. “What’s the date? The 59th Day? Guess you were right—it’s about four weeks later than when I last thought I was ready to birth.” She winced and held her back. “Well, today’s the day. Let’s take a walk, watch the sunrise, make Father nervous and scare Peto. Maybe we can even make Deck lose consciousness over and over again. Full day ahead of us, so I hope you’re ready, Mother.”
Mahrree whimpered. There was no place she would rather be. Salem was filled with people who knew all about birthing babies.
---
Perrin looked out the side kitchen window to the Briters’ house. The midwife had arrived on horseback and hadn’t left. That was half an hour ago. Deck hadn’t come out of the house either. The sun was starting to rise and the cattle would need attending to. That’s why Peto was drooling sleepily through his breakfast.
As much as Perrin wanted to know what was going on, he also didn’t want to. For a man so accustomed to bloodshed, the idea of being within earshot of his daughter birthing was quite unnerving. He couldn’t imagine how Deck was taking it. And that’s who he was most worried about.
Everyone had come to Salem and found family, except for Deckett Briter. He had no blood relatives anywhere, according to the few names he knew and the records they could find. All he had in Salem was his wife and her family, and by association, Perrin reminded him, their very extensive family as well. Still, that didn’t replace Deck not having a father to support him on a day like this.
Perrin knew what he needed to do this morning, but it was more unpleasant than the idea of saluting Lemuel Thorne.
He put down his mug and nudged Peto awake again.
“I’m going over there. Deck may need . . . holding up. I don’t know. You get to the cattle, all right? Maybe find a Zenos or two to help you. If you don’t, I’ll have you trade me places.”
Peto pried open his eyes with his fingers. “I’m going. I’m going.”
Perrin took a deep breath and walked the very short distance to the Briters. He gritted his teeth, waiting to hear terrifying screams or blood-curdling shouts as he approached the front steps. Instead all he found was Deck opening the door.
“I just need a little air. That’s all she said I needed.”
“Let’s take a walk,” Perrin suggested. “Give you some time—”
“Oh, there’s no time.” A woman, older than Mahrree, appeared by Deck’s side. “Jaytsy’s progressing quite nicely.”
Perrin squinted. She seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place her. “But Mahrree took nearly a full day to birth her babies.”
“Every woman is different, Mr. Shin. By midday meal you’ll have held the baby, announced the arrival, and planted an acre of corn.”
Suddenly Perrin knew, and his breathing quickened as panic rose in his chest. “Edge! I saw you in Edge!” The world had felt so far away, and now suddenly here it was talking to him.
“Yes, you did, briefly. I’m Mrs. Braxhicks. I returned just last week, Colonel.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shin. Or rather, General Shin? I was in Idumea for retraining when your family ‘vanished.’ Imagine my surprise when I returned to check on Jaytsy and instead found soldiers rummaging through the house.”
Out of the corner of her eye she spied Deck sagging. With a brawny arm, she grabbed his collar, pulled him upright, and propped him against the door frame.
“Stay with us, Deckett. That Genev is a real beast, I’m telling you,” she said to Perrin, not missing a beat. “He was stopping people and grilling them on what they knew. I had received a message that I would be escorted to the fort in the next morning to meet with the Administrator of Loyalty. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when Jothan came to take me home the night before!”
Perrin relaxed until he remembered something. “So you heard the official story then?”
“Yes, I did,” she said soberly, but the corners of her mouth began to twitch. “And I have to confess that as I stood at the message board reading it, I started to laugh so hard that people asked if I was all right. What a fabulous piece of fiction! Of course I knew then that your entire family was safely here. Why else would they create such a tale? My inappropriate outburst was probably why Genev wanted to question me.”
Perrin smiled. “Do you know what others thought of the story?”
“No, sir, I don’t. Doesn’t matter now though, does it?”
“No, not at all,” Perrin said. He could see why she’d been allowed to go to the world; for a Salemite, she was a decent liar.
Mrs. Braxhicks turned to Deck. “Enough fresh air? Good.”
“I can’t do this,” Deck said to Perrin. “I mean, Mrs. Braxhicks has been preparing me, explaining things—the other day she even drew diagrams,” he winced.
Mrs. Braxhicks smiled proudly.
“But it’s not like cattle at all,” Deck trembled. “It’s my wife. Your daughter. You should see what she’s going through—”
“He can if he wants, and if Jaytsy doesn’t mind,” Mrs. Braxhicks nodded at Perrin. “Often maternal grandfathers assist. And I still have the diagrams.”
Perrin’s eyes doubled in size.
“How could I ever suggest we have more children, seeing what’s happening to her?” Deck said miserably.
The midwife turned to him and held him firmly by the shoulders. “As enormous as the pain is now, much of it will be forgiven and forgotten as she holds that baby. There’s no great reward without a great sacrifice. It’ll be worth it, a dozen times over, even. What she needs most of all now is you.”
Deck was ashen.
“There is strength in a man that every woman yearns for,” Mrs. Braxhicks told him, “and that every baby needs.”
From upstairs, Mahrree’s voice traveled down, slightly panicked. “Mrs. Braxhicks? Jaytsy says she feels nauseated?”
“That’s what we’ve been waiting for,” Mrs. Braxhicks said. She turned to the stairs and called, “Be right up! Jaytsy knows what to d
o. Give her the bucket and tell her to pant.”
“There’s no strength in me right now,” Deck’s voice quavered. “I promise you.”
“Yes, there is, Deckett,” the midwife told him. “She’ll need your strength to help her find hers. Newborns behave differently in the arms of their fathers. They feel protected and secure. While a mother prepares a child to enter the world, a father gives him the courage to actually face it, starting today. Let’s go be a father, Deck. Besides, someone needs to hold the newborn while we take care of her mother afterward.”
She tugged on his arm and led the stunned almost-father back into the house.
Perrin sat down hard on the steps of the front porch and held his head in his hands.
The sun slowly crept up over the mountains, but Perrin didn’t watch it. He just stared at the steps and slowly rocked, praying everything would go all right as he felt the minutes, maybe even an hour, pass. At one point he heard Mrs. Braxhicks’ voice come muffled to his ears saying, “Push, push, push!”
He also heard a long grunting noise that would have been very loud upstairs in the bedroom.
He pressed his hands to his head and waited to hear the thudding of Deck hitting the floor. Or Mahrree.
But the loud wail that reached his ears instead was chilling.
His daughter.
He rubbed his forehead furiously trying to erase the sound of her in agony, but it was no use. Some sounds are never forgotten.
Jaytsy wailed again, this time longer, permanently sealing the horrible cry in Perrin’s mind. There was nothing he could do to help her. Nothing.
Perrin rocked harder.
Another wail, this time fainter and higher pitched, came to him.
It was also unmistakable.
He stopped rubbing his head and looked up.
He glanced at the sun that now hovered fully over the tall peaks and wiped away the wetness that was falling from his eyes. He stood up, turned to the door, stared at it for a moment, then walked into the house.
Grandfather Shin—
No, no, no, much too formal.
Grandpa Perrin—
No . . . closer, but not quite.
Certainly not Grandpy . . .
Whoever he was now had someone to meet.
He tiptoed through the gathering room, listening for anything that might suggest everything hadn’t gone as it should, but soon he heard the distinctive giggle of his daughter.
Just moments ago it was soul-wracking cry that ripped through his heart, and now she was giggling?
He heard his name mentioned and a moment later Mahrree was coming down the stairs.
“You’re here!”
Perrin nodded.
“For how long?”
“Long enough!”
“You’re a little pale,” Mahrree said.
“So are you.”
“I know,” she laughed shakily. “I didn’t think I’d make it. Thank goodness the baby came so quickly, or I would have been flat on the floor and Jaytsy would have had to hold her own hand.”
“Everyone all right? So how was it?”
“Amazing! You have to come see,” she said reaching for his arm.
“Now?”
“Jaytsy’s insisting. We’ve already moved her to the bed. She wants you to hold the baby.” Mahrree’s eyes filled with tears as she pulled him up the stairs and into Deck and Jaytsy’s bedroom.
Perrin tried to ignore the bloody cloths Mrs. Braxhicks was putting into a bag, but his eyes lingered on the considerable mess until his daughter called to him.
“Come meet your granddaughter: Salema!”
Perrin shifted his gaze from the bag to his daughter sitting partly upright in bed under a blanket, with Deck sitting next to her. They were both contentedly gazing at the tightly wrapped package of blankets in Deck’s arms.
Jaytsy beamed at her father. She looked exhausted but ready to climb a mountain if someone dared her.
Mahrree whispered into Perrin’s ear. “She’s still a bit messy from the birth. You didn’t see our babies until they were cleaned up. Just look beyond the clumps and smears.”
Perrin did his best not to cringe but walked quietly over to the bed, expecting the worst.
“Just for a few minutes,” Mrs. Braxhicks said. “We’re not exactly finished here yet.”
Perrin nodded as he leaned over to look into Deck’s arms.
Deck sat up, in surprisingly good color, and held up the bundle. “Take her,” he whispered. “If you’re holding the baby, you don’t have to dance, right?”
Perrin smiled and took the tiny package.
She didn’t look so bad. Not worse than any soldier after a battle. And that’s what she had just gone through—a battle.
Mahrree leaned against him as he cradled the newborn.
“She’s so quiet,” Perrin said softly, concerned.
“One yell was all she needed, then she settled right down. Must be a Briter trait,” Mahrree suggested.
“I don’t remember them being so small,” he whispered.
“They make them smaller now,” she told him.
Perrin chuckled.
The baby opened her eyes at the deep noise and tried to focus on him. Her little lips parted as she searched his face. As she worked her new muscles, one of her eyebrows arched.
Perrin sighed.
She could call him anything she wanted. Even Colonel Cuddly.
---
By midday meal Perrin hadn’t planted an acre of corn, but he had figured out how, in the future, everyone in Salem would know a baby had arrived. Among the many banners he was designing, one would be pink striped, like Hycymum had made him years ago in Edge. The dozens of towers which would be positioned throughout Salem could fly the banner as a signal that a baby had been born in the neighborhood. Message boards at the base of the towers could provide the details, the kind which Perrin was on his way to deliver right now to Guide Gleace. Gleace wanted daily reports of Salem’s “Comings and Goings,” as he put it.
At the Gleaces’ front porch, Perrin found three more new grandfathers. It was a pleasure to swap stories with them, a fraternity he was now the newest member of. It was more gratifying than exchanging battle tales with other commanders, and although there was as much blood and yelling, the outcomes were far happier.
One man was bringing Guide Gleace news of his 78th grandchild, and he easily recited the names and ages of every last one. “My own army, General Shin,” the elderly man smiled at him. “Glad to hear you’ve begun your own.”
---
Back at the Briters, Mahrree served as the messenger, gatekeeper, and proud grandmother.
Grandma.
Grand Mama.
Well, something.
By afternoon the food and supplies began to arrive, filling the spacious kitchen and eating room with promises that meals would keep coming for several weeks.
Mahrree had a speech she recited for women who came by, providing the details of the birthing and her new granddaughter in a one minute presentation which she delighted to repeat to Zenos women and their neighbors.
During a lull, Mahrree looked at the table full of food, blankets, and clothes, and whispered, “Just like Edge used to be, but better.”
---
“So that’s where you’ve been hiding,” Deck chuckled as he found his brother-in-law pitching hay in the barn. “You’ve moved enough for four days. It’s time to quit.”
“School doesn’t start for another hour,” Peto said, not looking up.
“True, but it’s time for me to get something to eat, which means it’s time for you to keep your sister company for a few minutes, and to meet your new niece.”
“Uhh . . .”
“Don’t worry, she’s all cleaned up and wrapped in blankets. Nothing will squirt at you. Come on, Uncle Peto. It’s your Salem duty, you know.”
Grumbling, Peto followed a chuckling Deck to his house, washed his hands, and
trudged up the stairs while Deck chatted with more squealing women.
“Peto!” his sister cried, albeit quietly, and gestured for him to sit down next to her on the bed. “You’re going to hold her. Come on, Salem tradition,” and she placed the tightly wrapped bundle in his rigid arms.
He gulped. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“And I’ve had lots of experience?” Jaytsy chuckled. “We’re all figuring it together.”
“Am I doing this right?” Peto asked stiffly.
“Just support the head and let her snuggle in,” Jaytsy showed him, shifting the newborn in his arms.
“I’m not the snuggly type,” Peto said, trying to position the baby closer to him.
“You will be, when it’s yours.”
Strangely, Peto didn’t find himself disagreeing with that idea, but instead did his best to cuddle Salema.
Jaytsy nudged him. “Sniff her.”
“What?”
“Her head. Sniff it. Trust me. She smells really sweet.”
Peto shrugged and sniffed her. “Maybe that’s what the soap in Paradise smells like. Scrubbed her up before they sent her down.”
Jaytsy smoothed the baby’s thick, black hair. “Just like silk.”
“Looks like Father’s hair, doesn’t it?” Peto said as he tried smoothing it himself. “Just needs touches of gray here and there.”
Jaytsy giggled. “But she yelled like Mother.”
“Like you, then,” Peto said. “But I think she has cow eyes.”
Jaytsy looked at him. “How do you know about cow eyes?”
“I did my share of spying on you and Deck. Mother said it’s too early to tell, but I think those gray eyes are going to go big and light brown like Deck’s, mark my words.”
“How would you know? How many newborns have you seen?”
“Might as well start now to make predictions about all your children.”
“Don’t talk to me about another baby yet!”
Peto smiled. “So how many do you think you and Deck will have, now that there are no limits?”
Jaytsy shrugged. “All my life I knew I could have only two children. Just weeks ago I learned I could have as many as I wanted. That’s a little hard to imagine, especially having just gone through the process. But we’ve talked a few times, maybe having six, or even eight children.”
Peto blinked rapidly. “Really?”
Jaytsy smiled shyly. “I love watching the Zenos family. There’s so much life and fun and—”
“Noise! Can you imagine the volume of our family if there were half a dozen of you and me?”
“Wouldn’t it have been fun?”
“Are you serious?” Peto stared at her.
“I am,” said Jaytsy soberly. “All right, I admit there also would have been a lot more arguing. And more chaos. But Peto, I know you can’t imagine it right now, but however many children the Creator wants to send us, I want to try to take. He’ll make us strong enough for whatever He sends.”
She ran her finger over Salema’s small ones.
“At one point, when I was trying to push her out, I really panicked,” she said quietly. “I was so scared. I knew I couldn’t do it. I imagined myself dying right here and wished that I could, just to end the agony. But then suddenly I knew I could push her out. I had to do it. Not for me, for her. For those who follow her. Oh, I wish you could understand. The whole world is different today!”
Peto watched her carefully. Now wasn’t the time for a smart remark. Jaytsy wasn’t quite herself anymore, because something weird and motherly had happened to her.
“You should envy me, Peto,” his sister declared. “I was sure I’d die, but instead I made a new person! Isn’t she incredible? Oh, I feel like I can do anything today! Why, I could march back into the world and take it over!” she exclaimed. But she fell back into the pillows which propped her up. “After I have a very long nap, which I understand won’t happen for a very long time . . . Hmm. Maybe the Creator designed it that way, so that all new mothers wouldn’t be taking over the world . . .”
Instead of staring at the strange creature who had taken over his sister, Peto looked back down at the baby who was opening her mouth and craning her neck.
“I think she wants to go fishing. She’s got a trout mouth.”
“I hope you take her someday. But actually that means she’s hungry, that I’m not about to get that nap yet, and that it’s your signal to leave for a little while.”
“Absolutely,” Peto said, gingerly handing Salema back to Jaytsy. He stood up and watched her fix the baby’s blankets. “Best thing you ever baked, Jayts. I think you should really shock our parents and make it an even dozen of those.”
“Thanks, Uncle Peto,” Jaytsy grinned as Peto left.
“Only if he has a dozen as well,” she whispered to her daughter.
---
It was Shem’s reaction everyone was waiting for, and mother, father, grandparents, and uncle were all there as Shem and Calla arrived in the late afternoon to meet Salema.
Mahrree wished Davinch could have dropped by, just to sketch the scene.
Calla emitted a tiny squeal as she sat down on the edge of Jaytsy’s bed. “It worked again! It’s a girl. I have some of nature’s power, I just know I do. Can I see her toes, please? I love newborn toes.”
“Of course!” Jaytsy pulled a tiny foot out from under the blanket.
“Look at the nails,” Calla whispered in awe. “Hardly visible. Shem, come look at these little things. They’re miraculous!”
But Shem just stood at the door, his chin trembling as he watched his future bride holding the newborn’s foot.
Calla noticed. “Isn’t he adorable?” she said to Mahrree.
Mahrree nodded. “And sweet! I always thought so.”
Perrin scowled.
“He is adorable,” Calla said firmly to Perrin, demonstrating considerable bravery in light of his continued frown. She stood up, took Shem by the hand, and pulled him over to the bed.
He sat down and took Salema’s tiny foot in his big hands. “You did it, Jayts,” he whispered. “I’m so proud of you!”
“I want you to hold her, Uncle Shem. You did so much for us as well.” She passed the baby over to Shem who took her expertly, despite the tears in his eyes.
“Welcome to Salem, Salema,” he said holding her up to get a good view. “I hope you never see Edge.”
“Yes, ‘Salema’ is a much better name than ‘Edgia’,” Peto decided.
“Deck and I decided we wanted our firstborn to be named after Salem,” Jaytsy explained. “Shem, we liked how your father incorporated it into your name.”
“I love Salema!” Shem said. To the baby, whose eyes were open but hazy, he said, “A lot of people worked very hard to get you out of Edge. Your mama the most.” He kissed Salema’s cheek.
“Shem, please don’t drown my daughter,” Deck said as the tears trickled down Shem’s face.
“Deck’s daughter,” Shem sighed as he tucked the newborn close to him. “Deckett has a daughter. Doesn’t that sound great?”
“Yes, it does,” Deck smiled.
“And Perrin’s a grandfather! What are we calling you?” Shem asked him.
“Perrin.”
“I mean Salema,” Shem clarified. “She’s not going to walk up to you and say, ‘Perrin, I need a kitten.’”
“Sure she will. Why not?” he said, folding his arms.
Jaytsy turned to him. “Because you’re a grandfather! Salema’s not going to go to her grandmother and say, ‘Mahrree, make Perrin get me a kitten!’”
Mahrree put on a thoughtful face. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not right!”
“According to who?” Mahrree asked. “Those titles—are they rules or just customs? We can change customs. And rules!”
Perrin smiled appreciatively at his wife.
“Ah, not again,” Peto sat down on the floor. “Get comfortable, Calla.
Mother’s on one again. I haven’t seen that look on her face since we got here. Must have been building up.”
“I think she has a point,” Calla said. “Why not do what’s best for your own family? That’s Salem’s way, after all. Maybe she just doesn’t like the idea of being a grandma.”
“Oh, she likes the idea of being grand, all right,” Peto assured.
Mahrree went pink as Calla laughed.
“It’s just the feel of the word grandmother,” Mahrree said with dramatic flair. “Grandfather,” she tried again, and Perrin shuddered at her pronunciation.
“We’re just not old enough to be grandmother and grandfather,” Perrin said, and immediately pointed a warning finger at Peto.
“So choose your own titles,” Calla said. “Come up with your own nick-names, or whatever. Was there anything they called you in Edge that might be appropriate?”
Mahrree smirked. “Colonel Cuddly comes to mind.”
Perrin jabbed her.
Shem smiled. “General Giggles? I think that was my suggestion.”
“Definitely not, Sergeant Major Sniffles,” Perrin said.
“Now that has potential—Uncle Sniffles,” Peto pointed at Shem.
Shem sniffled on cue and laughed softly as he rocked Salema.
“Sergeant Major of Snuggles,” Calla whispered, but not quietly enough. Immediately she turned red when she realized her mistake.
“Really?” Perrin said, scowling. “I’ll have to remember that.”
Calla looked apologetically at Shem, but he just winked at her.
“Mama Mahrree,” Deck suggested.
“What?” Perrin turned to him.
“Mama Mahrree. Wouldn’t that work?”
Mahrree bounced her head back and forth. “Maybe. Maybe. So what’s Perrin?”
Deck smiled. “Papa Perrin?”
Perrin held up his hands and shivered. “Let’s just leave it at Mahrree and Perrin for now. When Salema’s big enough she can give us our own designations. Then the next baby can give us different titles if he wishes, and so on.”
“You could end up with a dozen names,” Shem pointed out.
“So?”
Mahrree nodded. “I agree. Let the babies name us.”
“Pop-Pop Perrin!” Calla offered. Her smile faded quickly as Perrin glared at her.
“You’re forgiven, Calla,” Perrin assured her. “After all, you gave me Sergeant Major of Snuggles to hold over his head.”
---
It was late in the evening, but Salema’s parents had no comprehension of time. They were on the baby clock, and Salema wouldn’t understand the motions of the sun and what it meant to the rest of the world for a while. The new parents laid on their bed in a foggy bliss.
Last night two of them went wearily to bed after the big family dinner, and now tonight three of them lay in utter exhaustion with unconscious smiles on their faces.
“Is it time for bed yet?” Jaytsy asked Deck, whose eyes were closed. His daughter slept peacefully on his chest. “Mrs. Braxhicks said she’d be by again at bedtime.”
“Does it matter? We’re already here. Let’s just close our eyes. Wait. My eyes are closed. Aren’t they?”
Jaytsy giggled and rolled slightly to watch her husband run a finger down their daughter’s back. “I can’t believe she’s finally here.”
“Oh, I believe it!” Deck exclaimed. “I saw her come. If you need any reminders, I can give you plenty. Not like I can forget any of that any time soon. At least I didn’t have to do any reaching. By the way, happy anniversary.”
“What are you talking about? We had our first anniversary weeks ago.”
“The anniversary of when we met,” Deck clarified. “It was two years ago that you showed up at my parents’ kitchen door with a basket of food from your mother.”
Jaytsy thought about that. “Are you sure?”
“When I arrived that day at my parents’ place after burying them, I knew nothing would ever be the same again. I couldn’t even think of a good reason to continue. I had no hope. No purpose. Then you showed up at the door. Now I have a wife, a big house, my own herd, and a daughter. I was right. Nothing is the same. It’s better.”
“Oh, Deck, that’s really today?”
Deck sighed. “Actually, no. It’s not for a probably another nine or ten weeks yet. I just figured we’ll be too busy to remember it then, so I brought it up now. Still a good story, right?”
Jaytsy snuggled into her husband. “The day I learned your parents had died, I told my mother it wasn’t fair. I went on and on about everyone who had died. She said that someday all of it would make sense, and that every story has a happy ending. I just had to wait long enough for it.”
“So are you happy today?”
“Completely!”
---
“There you are.”
Captain Thorne bristled when he heard the sneering voice, and he closed his eyes. He wouldn’t be out of pain for a while yet. Sitting on a bunk in the surgery wing, he took a deep breath and waited for the throbbing in his right arm to ease.
“I still don’t understand why you just don’t have the surgeon cut the hideous thing off,” Commandant Genev hissed. “And look at me when I address you, Captain!”
He opened his eyes, as slowly as he dared, to give Genev his coldest glare. “I want to keep it,” he said steadily. “To remember.”
Genev scoffed. “Remember what, Captain? Your failure? Your ineptness? The surgeon says he can amputate—”
“NO!” Lemuel bellowed. He was always brashest before the next dosage of the pain mixture took effect. “I refuse to go through life as an incomplete man!”
“So you rather everyone sees you as an impotent man? You can get rid of that pain, and get rid of that stench, too.” His lip curled as he stared at the captain’s dying arm.
Lemuel was sliding a glove over his shriveled hand.
“Oh, yes. The glove,” Genev said. “That makes everything look normal again. No one can tell . . . or smell.”
“The smell is easing. Once it’s completely . . .” Lemuel couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘dead’ in reference to his arm, “there should be nothing left to draw attention to it.”
“Except that it never moves unless someone bumps it.”
Lemuel seethed with fury. Commandant Genev took sinister delight in daily tormenting him.
“Is there something you require, Commandant?” the captain said coolly. The throbbing was beginning to subside, promising another few hours of reprieve. “I’m not on duty for another half hour.”
Genev clasped his hands behind his back. “Yes, yes there is. I want to know why you destroyed the message from your father insisting you be reposted to the garrison in Idumea.”
Lemuel clenched his jaw.
“Because, as you are fully aware,” Genev batted his eyelids annoyingly, “I am the commander of this fort. All requests and communication, from anyone to anyone, pass by my desk first.”
“The communication was between my father and me,” said Lemuel flatly.
Genev ignored that. “The response you sent out this morning was, ‘I am staying in Edge.’ Why?”
Lemuel swallowed hard.
“Surely you don’t prefer Edge over serving with your own father, now, do you? The High General requests you to be by his side, and you turn him down?”
Lemuel stared into Genev’s eyes. If he could block this roach of a man from reading him, he could block anyone, especially his father.
“I have yet to conquer the forest, Commandant. I promised myself I would remain here until I found the Guarders, until I destroyed those who stole away my Jaytsy—”
Genev’s short bark of a laugh stopped him. “She’s gone, Captain. Forever. She was killed by the Guarders, remember?”
“She wasn’t with them,” Lemuel whispered, making sure his eyes were still hard as stone. “It was just the Shins and Briter. No one saw Jaytsy. She may still be out
there—”
“Her corpse rotting as disgustingly as your arm, Captain!”
Onions. The man always ate far too many onions, Lemuel thought. Talk about a stench.
“Until I have proof, I refuse to believe that—”
Genev got right up into his face, his midday meal nearly overpowering him. “You better believe, Captain! The entire world does. They have all mourned the tragic deaths of Perrin, Jaytsy, and Peto Shin. They’ve wept over the loss of the grandchild that never took a breath. They’re dealing with the knowledge that the Shin family is forever and completely gone. Now, if the entire world can accept that truth, why can’t you?”
Because it’s not the truth! Lemuel wanted to scream. If only he were stronger, more able to ride, and less needy of the surgeon’s mixtures that kept him going each day, he would have been back on his horse Streak and in that forest finding her.
Almost Lemuel convinced himself they all died in the forest.
Almost he believed the story that Chairman Mal had published to the world. But when he believed it, he’d have to accept that Jaytsy had died, too. As much as his mind was willing to embrace the new truth that allowed Lemuel to be a hero because he destroyed the traitor Zenos, a small portion of his heart simply couldn’t.
Where was Jaytsy? They must have just left her, large with expecting.
It gnawed at Lemuel every time he thought of it. He would have found her, rescued her, cared for her and the baby, raised up Perrin’s grandson to be greatest soldier the army had ever seen. Perrin Shin’s legacy could have been Lemuel’s legacy.
It still could be.
She still could be out there, held captive by the Guarders who were waiting for the opportune moment to demand a ransom for her and her son.
His son—
“I ASKED you a QUESTION, Captain!”
Captain Thorne blinked out of his private musings and met the glare of Genev. He didn’t have a ready answer. Then again, since when did Genev require the truth?
“I accept your truth, sir.”
“See that you do.” Genev cleared his throat and glanced to the door to see a surgeon’s assistant coming in.
When the young man recognized Genev he paused, as everyone did in the presence of the Administrator, before continuing to the captain. “Sir, the surgeon has a new salve to try on your arm. With your permission, I’ll remove your jacket—”
“Absurd!” Genev announced. “Why all of you try to pretend nothing is completely wrong here!”
Lemuel stared at him and the irony of his statement. He turned to the assistant. “Yes, take off my jacket.”
“Can’t even dress and undress yourself,” Genev snickered. “In any other profession you would’ve been kicked out as useless. But the Army of Idumea still sees you as valuable for some reason. After four weeks I still fail to see why. Maybe someday you’ll prove yourself of worth. So, Captain, are you requesting to remain in Edge? To ignore your father’s insistence that you serve under him?”
“I’m staying in Edge,” Thorne said as he struggled to get out of his jacket with as little help as possible.
“You are to request it of ME, Captain!” Genev snapped. “I decide who stays and who goes. You are NOT the commander, nor will you be for a very long time. Is that understood, soldier?”
“Yes, sir,” Thorne responded tonelessly. “Sir. May I continue to serve at Fort Shin. Sir.”
Genev stood at his full, squat, height. With a thin smile he said, “Yes. Of course, Captain Thorne. You are, after all, my favorite officer. I will send a message to High General Thorne myself, telling him how important you are to Fort Shin.”
He nodded curtly and strode out of the surgery.
The assistant applying the salve sighed in relief, but immediately tensed up again when he noticed Thorne watching him. “Sorry, sir.”
Thorne nodded once, and grimaced as he watched the assistant apply the sweet-smelling concoction to the charred and shriveling flesh of his arm. He would keep that arm, to remember what he was, and what he was about to become. Yes, he would become the most impressive soldier in the army, and with only one good arm. And it wouldn’t be because of High General Thorne’s leadership, or Commandant Genev’s guidance.
Lemuel Thorne would become the greatest officer the world had ever seen by his own making.
And when that time came, Commandant Genev would be a disgusting corpse rotting in the forest.
---
A few weeks later, Deckett Briter stood in front of their congregation on Holy Day. In his arms was his little girl, dressed in a simple white gown, to announce to everyone her name and to ask the Creator to bless her. He tried not to be nervous as hundreds of eyes gazed adoringly at the young new father cradling his tiny baby with black hair that stood straight up.
But it wasn’t the pressure of so many people that worried him. Nor was it even the fact that he’d never prayed out loud in front of so many people before, even though Rector Bustani had given him some suggestions, and he’d heard a few other fathers publicly ask blessings for their newborns since they’d arrived in Salem.
He wasn’t even trembling because his wife stood by his side, or that he’d asked his father-in-law to stand with him as well, not so much as a distraction, but as a backup.
No, what most concerned Deck was that Salema would start wailing again, as she was prone to do when she was on display. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was feeling exposed and open, as he did right then, or if she was hollering so that everyone would hear her, which Deck suspected was a Shin family trait, but he’d never admit that in front of anyone.
Right now, he had the swaying and bouncing down pretty well, but only Perrin seemed to be able to master the Hifadhi pat.
They’d discovered that technique when Salema was a week old, and Jothan and Asrar Hifadhi came to visit them. As soon as the front door opened, somehow Salema knew and she began to exercise her lungs.
Jaytsy looked at the Hifadhis apologetically. “Still trying to figure her out,” she said. “I just changed her, and I fed her half an hour ago, but we can’t calm her down—”
But Asrar took Salema and said, “Don’t apologize, and don’t let anyone try to tell you newborns are easy. Most aren’t.” She bounced Salema gently up and down. “I’m guessing a gas bubble is lodged, and this poor girl doesn’t know what to do with it. When you consider that she’s a full-grown spirit crammed into a tiny body, and she’s been working it for such a short time, and she can’t quite remember anymore where she came from, and what she’s supposed to be doing now, it’s no wonder she’s confused by all these new sensations. Wouldn’t you feel like wailing a few hours each day in her situation?”
“I never thought of it that way before,” Jaytsy said. “I guess I would.”
A moment later Salema released gas from both ends, and relaxed slightly in Asrar’s arms.
“It’s just so exhausting, isn’t it, Salema?” Asrar crooned as if the now-quiet baby could understand her every word. “I think some of us come to the world more anxious to get on with things than others. Some folks are fine with enjoying this time as a baby, but not you. You have so many plans, don’t you? And you want to do them all right now, yet you can’t even hold up your head. You’re not even sure what I’m saying, either, but you want so much to respond. It will all come in time, little one. One day, one step at a time. You’ll get it all sorted out, so be patient with yourself.”
Salema stared at her as if she did understand, while Deck and Jaytsy watched in wonder.
“Yes, she looks exhausted now,” Jothan observed. “May I?” and he lifted Salema from Asrar. “And now, little one, would you like to take a nap? Every day you get bigger and stronger, and napping helps. So, nap time?”
Jaytsy leaned over to Deck and whispered, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she answered him.”
Jothan fitted the tiny baby on his shoulder, allowing her to snuggle in to his thick neck. He closed his eyes for a
moment, as if waiting for something, and then he started patting.
But not any timid, soft patting. He clapped his hand so loudly on Salema’s back that Jaytsy couldn’t help but lunge forward. “Oh!” she began, but recognizing that the Hifadhis had some gift with newborns, held herself back and said instead, “That’s . . . rather hard, don’t you think?”
Deck had gone to the other side of Jothan to see his daughter’s face. “Apparently not. Her eyes are closing!”
“My grandfather Tuma discovered this,” Jothan said. “And I understand he once quieted your brother Peto to sleep, when he was in Edge for the afternoon to meet Perrin and Mahrree. Babies don’t need tiny, useless pats. They need to really feel that pat, throughout their whole body.” Jothan’s voice was deep and soothing, yet he fairly rumbled as he said quietly, “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving bruises, and her back won’t even be red. First, feel the rhythm of the infant, such as her heartbeat, or her wailing. Then match your patting to her rhythm. She needs to feel peaceful consistency, to feel in harmony with the world she’s now living in. She needs grounding.”
Deck didn’t understand most of that, but somehow it worked. “She’s falling asleep!” he whispered in astonishment. “Jothan, can you please come over every night?”
He smiled as Salema released a shudder and a sigh. “If you’re absolutely desperate, of course I will. But how about I just teach you the technique instead?”
So after they laid Salema down for a nap, Jothan made Deck feel completely ridiculous by patting him on the back in the same manner, then making Deck pat him back to judge the force and to try to find Jothan’s “rhythm” while Deck pretended he could. By this time Perrin had come over, and soon the three men were patting each other on the backs, while Jaytsy and Asrar giggled and guessed who’d burp first.
While Jaytsy did better with it, Deck almost had the technique down, but he was sure his daughter could feel his hesitancy whenever he took her in his arms. Occasionally neither of them could calm her.
But she always settled right down whenever Perrin took her and started what Mahrree called the “Hifadhi beatings.” She wasn’t too sure about the force, either, but she couldn’t dispute the results as Salema soon fell to sleep as deeply as Peto had so many years ago.
Deck decided that Salema just liked massively built men. She’d likely marry one in twenty years.
No matter the time of day, Perrin was willing, and would quite often say, “I’ll just keep her for her now. I can work and cradle a baby at the same time. Come by again after you two have dozed.”
That’s why Perrin stood near Deck, smiling proudly yet keeping his hands behind his back, because for now little Salema was silent, bright-eyed and watching the crowd that beamed back at her, and for once Deck was feeling confident in his ability to be a father.
After the congregation ahh-ed appropriately at Jaytsy’s explanation that they wanted Salem in their firstborn’s name, Deck bowed his head and offered a prayer, thanking the Creator for their new baby and asking for blessings on her life.
He wasn’t sure what he said, because he tried to follow Shem’s advice, who told him that he wasn’t so much asking for blessings, but receiving hints from the Creator as to this child’s potential. It was his right as patriarch to be inspired to know how they should raise their child, and to have glimpses into who she already was.
That morning Deck had asked Shem, “Couldn’t Perrin do it? He’s a patriarch, right? And he certainly knows how to listen to the Creator.”
Shem had bobbed his head and said, “Well, yes, grandfathers can do it, but Deck—you listen just as well as he does.”
So, filled with anxiety, he tried his best to say the words that came to his mind, and not substitute his own ideas. Finally he ended the longest prayer he’d ever said out loud.
His shaking didn’t subside until they sat down again with the family, and Perrin put an arm around his shoulders. “Well done, Deckett Briter,” he whispered. “I know Mahrree took notes as to what you said, but one thing stood out to me.”
“What was that?” Deck whispered back.
“That you blessed her with a ‘boisterous spirit.’”
“Did I really?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry if you heard my response to that.”
“You responded?”
“I couldn’t help it. I accidentally whispered, ‘Oh, no.’”
Even though Perrin chuckled quietly, Deck didn’t know whether to join him or begin shaking again. Still in his arms, his little girl looked up at him with her big gray eyes, turning light brown. They weren’t drifting and hazy, but fixed on him intently.
An idea was shared, between his eyes and hers, and the message was, The first of many.
He began to tremble again.
Chapter 26--“I think he’s found his
calling.”