The crackle of the radio yanked Jack out of a dream filled with water that burned. He jerked upright, looking around in confusion until he realized he’d fallen asleep at his desk again. So much to get done, so many changes coming, so many decisions to make. The radio crackled again.
“Jack, this is Thomas. Come in.”
Jack fumbled for the radio, clearing his throat, still froggy when he spoke. “This is Jack. Go ahead, Thomas.”
“Jack, we’ve got a young man here you need to talk to. We’re at location Juliet. He’s asking for Martin, and he has an infant with him. Over.”
Jack swung to the map. Location Juliet was near the old middle school, at the junction of Rampart Range Road and Maplehurst. It marked the most likely point of entry for travelers coming in on one of the dirt roads. He keyed the radio. “Do I need to bring Rowan with me? Over.”
“Negative. She looks to be in really good shape.” Instead of “Over,” Jack distinctly heard Thomas coo something like, “Aren’t you? Yes, you are!” He shook his head.
“I’ll be there in five minutes. Out.”
The cool morning air washed the rest of the sleep from his brain as he zoomed towards the middle school on his ATV, though flashes of dream images continued to haunt him: flaming water lighting a dirty, night-time sky, and of all people, his sister, punching through that wall of flame in a boat that burned all around her. Jack scrubbed a hand over his head, as if he could rub away the unsettling images. He hadn’t seen Caroline in years and did his best not to think of her. Even before the plague, he hadn’t been sure whether or not she was still alive.
He pulled up at the checkpoint and took a moment to take it all in. Thomas was cradling a dark-haired infant in his hands, smiling and making exaggerated facial expressions at her. The baby appeared for all the world to be chatting right back, cooing and gurgling, her dark eyes serious in her tiny face. Nearby, two horses were cropping at the springtime grass, one of them saddled, one of them loaded down with gear, including a brightly colored crib mobile that sprouted crazily from the top of the rolls and bundles. And a few feet from that, a teenage boy was…milking a goat? The boy looked up as Jack shut the ATV off, and Jack revised his assessment: a boy in years, yes. A man, judging by the experience in his eyes and the maturity Jack could feel emanating from him.
Thomas tucked the baby in the crook of his arm and walked over, tilting his head in the boy’s direction. “Jack, this is Quinn Harris.” The young man nodded but continued with his task. “He’s originally from Limon, he says. He traveled to the Springs with Martin’s daughter, Grace, but they got separated. Ran into trouble with that gang Anne told us about.” He tilted the baby up, and she gazed at Jack with ancient eyes. “And this young beauty is Lark. Quinn said he helped the mother give birth, but she didn’t make it.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. A thread of disbelief ran through Thomas’ words, and at the mention of the mother, he felt a spike of betrayal surge in Quinn. There was more here than met the eye. There was also plenty of time to sort it out. He smiled at Quinn.
“You’re welcome here. I take it you’ll need a place to stay where you can keep the animals near?” He gestured to the goat. “I assume she’s the baby’s food supply.”
“Yes.” Quinn stood, and ran a hand down the nanny goat’s neck, murmuring to her. She pressed into him for a moment, bleated, then trotted over to join the horses in their grazing. “Lark stays with me, too. She’s mine.”
Jack and Thomas exchanged a quick glance; neither had missed the fierceness in young Quinn’s declaration. Jack smiled again. “Of course. We wouldn’t take her from you; that’s not how we operate here. There will be plenty of help with her, though, if you need it.”
Quinn nodded, and Jack felt relief surge and settle in him. He walked to the horses, and poured the goat’s milk carefully into a container hanging from the pack of supplies. Thomas returned the baby to him when he was finished, and Quinn deftly tucked her into the sling across his chest.
Jack looked at Thomas. “I’ll take him to the church and send someone to bring Ignacio in. We’ll see if he and his daughter can put Quinn up, at least for the time being.” He looked at Quinn. “While we’re waiting, we can have our healer check the baby, if you like. You, too, if there’s need.”
“I’m fine, but I’d like her to look at Lark.” He rubbed and patted the baby’s back as he talked, swaying in the age-old dance of a parent trying to get a baby to sleep. “She had a rough start. She wouldn’t take any of the formulas I found.” A storm cloud passed over his features. “The mother nursed her once, but then she was gone. If not for Alice and her milk, we’d have been sunk. Huh, bunny?”
As if in reply, the baby’s arm shot out of the sling to pat against the front of Quinn’s t-shirt. He picked her tiny fist up and kissed it, and the love binding them was a tangible, visible thing. Again, Jack and Thomas exchanged a look. Strange, the way Quinn had phrased the information about the mother: “She was gone.” Definitely more there than he was telling, but until Jack had a reason to push the young man, he wouldn’t.
Quinn remounted his horse, and they caravanned in with Jack leading the way. People were out and about now, and they stopped to stare at the newcomer and his menagerie. Jack glanced back, noting that Quinn’s face was burning a dull red, his eyes fixed on the back of Jack’s ATV. He didn’t appreciate the attention, that was for sure. When they arrived at the church, Layla’s class was in the meditation garden, though Layla was nowhere to be seen. They were working with Carla, helping to prepare the ground for the fledgling herbs and vegetables they’d been nurturing as a class project.
Jack shut the ATV off, and Quinn dismounted, moving to hold his big quarter horse by the bridle. “Is there somewhere I could water them? We’ve been riding since before dawn.”
Before Jack could answer, a squeal pierced the bright morning. “Oh my god, is that a goat? She’s so cute!”
Karleigh led the charge. As the entire class abandoned Carla to converge on them, Jack felt a spike of pure panic from Quinn. The baby startled into wakefulness, going from peaceful sleep to screeching banshee in less than a second. Huh, Jack had just a moment to think. She was sure sensitive to her young protector’s feelings. Interesting.
He stepped in front of Quinn and held his arms wide, shielding the boy from the charging herd. “Could you guys chill it? In case your ears are stopped up, let me point out that you woke the baby.” Over his shoulder, he muttered to Quinn. “Don’t worry, I can hold them off. Just keep breathin’, buddy.”
He felt Quinn relax a little, even when Karleigh met Jack’s words with a much softer though no less excited squeal. “Oh, he’s got a baby with him, too! Can we see?”
Jack fixed the group with a stern glare. “Take it down a notch, all of you.” He met Karleigh’s eyes. “You especially. Why don’t you tell me how he feels about this onslaught?”
Karleigh’s eyes went unfocused for a moment,
then her expression dropped into sheepish, apologetic lines. “I’m
sorry, Pastor Jack,” she mumbled. “I didn’t think.”
“Don’t tell me, tell this young man.” Jack stepped to the side.
“His name is Quinn, and if you don’t mob him, I’m sure he’d be
pleased to meet all of you.”
Karleigh stepped forward. “It’s nice to meet you, Quinn. I’m sorry we all came at you like that. We haven’t seen someone from the outside in a long time, and we – I – got a little too excited.” Her eyes fell to Lark, who had subsided into little complaining noises against Quinn’s neck. “Is she your daughter?”
“She is now.” Pride. Quinn tucked the baby in the crook of his arm to show her off, looking at her instead of the other kids. “Her name is Lark.”
Coos and cries of delight met his pronouncement. Quinn’s face was still flushed, but he seemed to be holding his own, especially with the baby and Alice the goat acting as buffers. Jack moved to where Carla was watching, and cut right to the chase.
“Where’s Layla?”
Carla frowned at him. “She’s been out most of the week. Owen said she hasn’t been feeling well. Anne and I’ve been keeping the kids busy – there’s always plenty for them to help with. I thought you would have known.”
It was Jack’s turn to frown. “I haven’t been taking the kids to the gym. We’ve just got so much going on. Water issues, which I’m sure you’re aware of. There’s talk of moving the whole community to Carrol Lakes, with Naomi.” He felt for the link that was always open to Layla, but hit her wall of ice instead. He rubbed at the sting in the center of his chest; she had a little push-back going on with her defenses these days. “And with Martin gone, there’s just a lot of extra.”
Carla nodded and accepted his excuses; Layla would have recognized them for the half-truth they were. The real truth was that Jack had been avoiding contact with any of the women who shared leadership of this community; Layla, of course, Rowan and Verity as well. He’d had all he could stomach of their honesty and opinions. His duties had multiplied since Martin left, and he’d made the absolute most of that excuse, putting in monster long days, working at whatever tasks needed doing, taking refuge in constant motion.
Unfortunately, though, the luxury of avoiding Rowan was no longer his. He left Carla monitoring Quinn and the kids and went to his office to radio Rowan as well as send a runner out to Ignacio’s ranch. When he returned, Quinn had unloaded and picketed his animals in a shaded patch of grass, and some of the kids were just lugging in buckets of water for them. Viola was smiling down at little Lark, who was kicking on a blanket in the same patch of shade. Some of the younger kids surrounded them, and some had returned to helping Carla.
The older kids, Karleigh, James, Ben and Dylan, were all grouped around Quinn, who once again looked like he’d prefer to sink into the ground. Karleigh was smiling up at him through her eyelashes, twisting a lock of her dual-toned hair around her finger, her expression reminiscent of a love-struck Disney fawn. The boys were all eyeballing the newcomer with varying levels of hostility, depending on their relative fondness for Karleigh. Jack bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. Lord, he loved these kids. He had missed them, so much.
“Pastor Jack!” Karleigh scooted towards Quinn, gesturing for Jack to join their circle. “Quinn came from out on the plains – he said the city is totally dangerous, that there’s a gang that does all kinds of horrible things!”
“I heard,” Jack said calmly. What was romantically dangerous to Karleigh made misery bleed from Quinn. She had no idea how fortunate she’d been, and Jack prayed she’d never have to learn. His heart hurt for this young man, whose very energy spoke of his gentle nature. He held his hand out, gesturing to Quinn. “If you’d like to bring the baby inside, we can get you some food. Rowan should be here shortly.”
Quinn ducked his head, hurrying to gather Lark, as well as the container of goat’s milk, a bottle and a diaper from the depths of his supplies. He nodded and mumbled goodbyes to the kids, oozing relief as he followed Jack into the cool darkness of the church. Jack spoke as they walked, headed for the library.
“They’re good kids, but they can be overwhelming.” Quinn nodded, and Jack went on. “Most of them have been here since the start of the plague. Dylan and Evie were in Cascade, but they’ve been with us for nearly a year. None of them were on their own for long, if at all.” Another pause. “I take it you and Grace weren’t so lucky?”
“No.” Quinn cleared the hoarseness out of his voice. “I lost my whole family. Gracie did, too, but she didn’t know about her dad. I was sure glad to hear he made it. I just wish…” His voice trailed off, and the roiling emotions that Jack felt from the quiet young man were as complex as they were powerful: betrayal again, and disappointment, but also admiration, friendship, and a deep and abiding love that belied his youth.
They settled into the library to wait for Rowan, and when Judy arrived with a tray of food, Jack offered to hold Lark while Quinn ate. As she had with Thomas, she cooed and chatted in response to his baby talk, but even when she beamed her gummy baby smile, there was something in her eyes that made Jack’s heart ache. Rowan came bustling in a few minutes later, and Jack settled into a chair to watch as she examined the baby, asking Quinn questions about her birth, her eating and sleeping patterns. Jack curled his fingers over his lips to hide another grin as he listened to Quinn discuss the infant’s bowel movements with great seriousness and authority. He was going to like this young man very much. He was sure of it.
Exam finished, Rowan took a few moments to tickle Lark’s plump little legs, smiling when she was rewarded with a gurgling coo. “She’s fit as a fiddle, Quinn – you’ve done a great job. You let us know how much and what kind of help you want with her. No one goes it alone here.”
Quinn’s shoulders slumped, and he heaved a great sigh. “I’m so glad. I was so worried about her. I couldn’t stand to see her suffer, or die. It wasn’t her fault she…” He folded his lips into a tight line over the words he’d been going to say, then went on, “Anyway, there’s been too much death.”
“That’s for sure. And there’s nothing that brings more hope to a community than a healthy new baby. One day, little girl, I’ll introduce you to my nephew, Oliver.” Rowan scooped Lark up and tucked her against her body, expertly slipping the nipple of the bottle between her lips. The baby curled towards her, eyes already drooping. “If you like, Jack and I can babysit while we wait for Ignacio. Maybe you’d like to take a break, visit with the other kids for a while?”
Just the thought made Quinn’s whole body radiate alarm. Jack spoke. “Or maybe you’d like to take a few minutes to yourself, get cleaned up, that sort of thing?”
Quinn looked like he was about to refuse, then cocked his head to the side, considering. Jack felt the longing in him for a minute, just a minute or two to rest, to put it all down. This young man had been carrying heavy burdens, alone, for too long.
“Well, I could probably use a quick wash. I can’t smell me, but after a few days on the trail, I’m sure you can.” He moved to stroke a finger along Lark’s forearm. Even though she was nearly asleep, her mouth curved in a brief, milky smile. “Are you sure?”
“Go.” Rowan waved him along. Jack led him down to the church basement, showed him where the water was stored and where to dispose of it after he was done, supplied him with toiletries and a clean towel, then left him to his own devices. By the time he returned to the library, Rowan was curled in one of the wing chairs with her eyes closed, the baby sleeping on her chest. He was about to sneak back out when she spoke.
“There is nothing that knocks me out faster than a sleeping baby. Little Oliver and I have taken some excellent naps together.” She slitted her eyes and gazed at him. “Quinn seems like a good kid. It was hard for him to leave this little girl, even I could feel that. There’s something he’s not telling us about the baby, though.”
“Yeah, I got that, too. If I felt any kind of threat from him, I’d push it.”
Jack settled in the other wing chair and stretched his legs out. Rowan’s eyes were shut again, though he could feel she wasn’t sleeping. She was relaxed, her guard was down, and it wasn’t in any way ethical to probe her for information right now. He probed anyway.
“So, I’m glad to hear Layla’s starting to feel better…” He let his voice trail off conversationally, and pitched it just so – friendly concern, just making idle chit-chat, nothing more.
“Is she? Well, then you know more than I do.” Rowan snorted, but didn’t open her eyes. “She’s blocking me with that ‘wall of ice’ thing she does. Says I don’t need to be worrying about her, with everything else I’ve got on my plate.”
“Mmm.” He kept his tone light, in spite of his intense concentration. He couldn’t quite get a handle on Rowan’s emotions. She was both concerned and excited. “Well, she does have a point…”
Rowan sighed. “I suppose. Pregnancy isn’t an illness, after all, but she is older and it’s been a rough start. I’m glad she finally told you.”
There was no longer any air in the room. Jack couldn’t suck enough in to even attempt a reply. And yet, he’d known, hadn’t he? Before he’d even asked, he’d known.
“Why, you sneaky bastard.”
Jack looked over to see Rowan glaring at him. The baby stirred on her chest, suddenly whimpering and discontent, and Rowan patted her gently even as she hit him with enough anger to punch the wind out of him, if he’d had any wind to give. She opened her mouth to give voice to that anger just as they both heard the foyer door open and Ignacio’s voice.
“Hello in the church,” he called.
Still glaring at Jack, Rowan called back. “We’re in the library.”
A moment later, the rancher appeared in the doorway, holding his battered cowboy hat in his hand. His face lit up when he spied Lark, and he tiptoed over to stand by Rowan’s chair. His eyes flickered between Rowan and Jack. Even someone with zero intuitive ability could read the murderous look she was blasting him with, but Ignacio was no fool. He kept his attention on the baby, reaching out a brown, knotty forefinger to stroke the baby’s forearm, just as Quinn had done.
“I heard there were some folks with animals that needed a place to put up. Is she with them?”
“She is.” Rowan eased to her feet and smiled briefly at Ignacio. “Would you like to hold her? I’ve got to be on my way. I can lay her down on her blanket, if you’d rather –”
Before she had even finished speaking, Ignacio was carefully gathering the sleeping baby from Rowan’s arms, tucking her against his chest and murmuring when she stirred. He patted her little back with his big, work-weathered hand, and in his face, Jack saw the agony and joy of his memories.
Ignacio closed his eyes, but moisture leaked out anyway. He laid his cheek against Lark’s head. “They’re small like this for the blink of an eye,” he murmured. “You should always hold a sleeping baby, every single minute you can.” His chest lifted in a shuddering sigh, and his face twisted for just a moment. “Before you can’t hold them anymore, not ever again.”
Rowan squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks for helping them, Ignacio.” Then she knifed Jack with one last glare. “You and I will talk later. Bet on it.”
Jack didn’t answer. He watched her gather her things and leave, watched Ignacio bounce and sway around the room, but he couldn’t seem to form words, or even a thought, other than Layla is pregnant. It beat in his head, rhythmic and relentless as a heartbeat, all-controlling, over-riding everything else.
Quinn returned, and he had to focus all his concentration on keeping the words from coming out of his mouth. He introduced Quinn and Ignacio, helped Quinn repack his horses, and saw them on their way, and still those words grew in his chest, pressing on his heart and lungs until he felt like he had to gasp for each breath of air.
Layla is pregnant.
They were the first words he thought when the radio crackled again later that evening, followed by Thomas’ excited voice informing him that Martin and Naomi were back and that they had Martin’s daughter with them. He knew he should go to them right away, explain about Quinn, find out what they’d learned, but he couldn’t devote enough of his mind to the task to accomplish it. In the morning, he told himself. In the morning, when he could think.
Dreams again, awful dreams. His eyes shot open to early morning light, and the damn words came at him again, like torpedoes: Layla is pregnant.
He didn’t snap out of it until mid-day, when an awful knowing overrode his preoccupation and drove him out of his office. He headed towards the foyer, his footsteps gradually picking up speed until he was jogging. Something was wrong. Something very close. He and Judy nearly collided in the foyer, and in her face, he saw the same trepidation that was making his heart pound and his palms sweat.
She wrung her hands, peering out the glass doors. “There’s something…I don’t know what it is…” Judy saw possible paths, and had always maintained a pragmatic, “what will be, will be” attitude about it. Jack had never seen her this distraught and sudden terror for his community iced his spine. “Something or someone is coming,” she continued in a rush. “It’s…big. Bah! What a stupid word! Significant. I don’t want to say ‘bad,’ but…”
“I know.”
Movement outside caught Jack’s eye. He crouched, peering out the glass front doors, and what he saw sent fire and ice chasing along every nerve in his body. He caught Judy’s wringing hands and stilled them. He ducked his head to lock eyes with her, commanding her to calm, swift obedience.
“Slip back to my office and radio Naomi at her cabin. If she doesn’t answer, try Martin’s.” His eyes swung back to the people gathering in front of the church. “Tell her Piper’s here.”