Forty-six
It was raining in the forests below the cliff.
Thunder rumbled over the
land. The angel birds had taken refuge above the clouds and circled thick
overhead, filling the sunlight with the songs of their eerie harmonics.
A group of rabbits drew close to watch Wallace sew a
new leather sole to the bottom of his deerskin shoes. A continual
succession of petty chores awaited his attention during the course of the
day, and he couldn't remember ever being happier. He looked up into the
teddy bear faces of the rabbits and smiled his greeting.
Time had passed, more than enough time to heal all
wounds and diminish the bad memories and the nightmares that had arisen
from them. But he could hear Melanie and Sasha bickering in the hut
again. It was a form of play between the two, a constant swordplay of wit
by mock opponents that had firmly bonded the two together during the
course of the year. And all too often they dragged him into their spats
to serve as referee.
When he felt a hand touch his shoulder, he put down
his sewing and looked up into Melanie's pretty face. "Wallace, please
tell Sasha that it's our turn tonight, that she had her turn last when you
went with the cats to look at the new antelope herds."
Sasha sat touching at his side and gave him a radiant
smile. "Tell her, Wallace."
Wallace mocked confusion. "Tell her?"
"Tell her she's got antelope dung running out of her
ears, because if you'll remember, the both of you absolutely reeked of
antelope yesterday, so it's our turn tonight."
Melanie slipped in beside him as well, and Wallace
closed his eyes as the heat of the two left him defenseless. They were
toying with him again, because tonight was the one night out of three he
insisted on sleeping alone. The two had conspired to renege on their
agreement and entice him into the back bedroom in broad daylight. Wallace
put his hands to his face and let his laughter roll forth.
"Daddy, are you crying?"
Wallace lowered his hands in surprise. He looked
down into the solemn, dark eyes of Derek, Sasha's thriving four-year-old.
"Mommy and Melanie are picking on me," he said with a mock hurt tone.
Derek grinned sheepishly, mature enough already to
have seen through his father's playful ruse.
Deedee came rushing up alongside her half brother and
bumped him unceremoniously. She brought with her a litter of hard-playing
kittens that buffeted the four of them in a flurry of snarling, growling,
and playful wrestling.
"The mommies are being mean to Daddy again," Derek
informed the chubby and less coordinated three-year-old, but even
bright-eyed Deedee was on to their ploy. She shook her finger at her
mother in mock scolding, and then at Sasha. "Bad mommies! Bad, bad
mommies picking on Daddy again!"
The two ran off in bubbling laughter, surrounded by a
sea of pouncing kittens.
Melanie and Sasha took Wallace by the arm and lifted
him to his feet in the quiet aftermath. "Bad mommies," they both
whispered in his ear. Wallace went peacefully, always willing to do
whatever it took to keep the mommies happy.
