Puddlejumpers (3 page)
Three weeks passed, and people up and down the Warbling River plateau were concerned that Russ, lost in his grief, still hadn't named the baby. Betty stopped over with strawberries and fresh cream, but her real purpose was to discuss the matter of the nameless baby. This indecision was so unlike him. Growing up, Russ had been the first at everythingâfirst to drive a tractor, first to win a blue ribbon at the county fair, he was even the first boy in their class to kiss a girl. She knew that because she was the one he'd surprised with a smooch when they were in the second grade.
Betty was mustering her courage to speak up when the wall ironing board swung down and plunked Russ on the head. It startled them both and they couldn't help but laugh. When the screen door mysteriously banged open and shut, they laughed even harder. It was a glimpse of the old Russ and she knew right then that he was going to be okay. They spent a fun afternoon trying out names. In the end, Russ decided to name the baby Francis, after his father.
But before going to sleep that night, Russ came upon the book Dolores had last been reading. Paging through it, he found a slip of paper with a list of names in her handwriting, one of which was circled.
Shawn.
It was as if Dolores were touching his shoulder and whispering the name in his ear. That was the last time he cried, thankful that he could fulfill her final wish.
The next morning, Russ bundled up baby Shawn and walked out behind the barn, where the elm and willow trees announced themselves, their buds a brilliant newborn green. Feeling the warmth of the sun on his face, Russ told Shawn about his mother as he gathered some flowers from Dolores' garden: wild violets, the first of the sweet peas, a few daffodils, and her favorite, the tulips. When his bouquet was complete, he buckled Shawn into the pickup, then traveled the road along the Warbling River into town.
Circle, Illinois, was a thriving place and well loved by its inhabitants. Located on State Highway 99, there were two churches, an elementary school, a Handy Hardware, and a bar called the Willow Lounge. The post office was on the corner next to a little dress shop, All Dressed Up, that Ginny Hawkins kept open when she could. The only restaurant was the Turkey Roost, known for its Thanksgiving dinners all year round, complete with live turkeys in the pen out back.
At the far end of town, Russ gassed up at the Sinclair station, where Roy told a knock-knock joke while cleaning the windshield. Russ returned the favor by narrating a diaper-changing adventure that soon had his friend bent over in laughter. Afterward, Russ went across the street to the Trading Post for groceries. Although it had only been a few weeks since he'd been in town, it felt like a lot longer. His friends, relieved to see him up and about, fawned over the new baby and did their best to act like nothing else had changed.
At the little cemetery just outside of town, Russ placed the spring bouquet on his wife's grave. He kissed his son on the top of his head and tried to be thankful for all that was good in his life. “Let's get home, little one.”
On the way back, Russ decided to do something he should have done weeks before. As he pulled into the Woodruffs' drive, Betty and Charlie came out to greet him. Betty rocked Shawn on the porch swing, while Russ and Charlie settled on the steps with muffins and fresh cups of coffee.
“Shawn and I have been wanting to thank you for that beautiful mobile you carved,” said Russ.
“Mobile?” asked Charlie, puzzled.
“Yeah, the one you left on my porchâlittle elves around an acorn. It's a work of art.”
“I'd like to see it, but I sure didn't carve it.”
“Well, if you didn't, who did?”
“Beats me,” said Charlie as he got up and went into the kitchen. “But we do have a little gift for Shawn.” He returned with a wooden rattle decorated with fanciful farm animals in pink and blue. “I carved it and Betty did the painting.”
“It's from that cherry tree Emil lost in the tornado last year,” added Betty.
Russ gave it a playful shake. “The tree lives on!”
Betty laughed. “If he breaks it, you can plant a new oneâthose are cherry seeds inside.” She kept Shawn busy with the rattle while Russ and Charlie continued to speculate about who else might have made the mobile, but the identity of the carver remained a mystery.
When Russ got home, he rigged the mobile to the crib rail. He jiggled it, and Shawn watched the elfin figures dance around the Crystal Acorn, just above his head. Russ was having so much fun playing with his son that he barely heard the knock. He went to the back door, where he found Betty holding up a small Snow White lamp. “Look what I found in my atticâa young lady on the lookout for seven little elves. Seen any hanging around?” she joked.
Russ laughed, welcoming her into the kitchen. “Now that you mention it, I have noticed some characters that fit the description. C'mon, let's introduce everybody.”
They whistled the chorus to “Whistle While You Work” while Russ clamped Snow White onto the crib next to the elves. The paint was a little tarnished, but when Betty popped in two double AAs and turned on the lamp, the bulb under Snow White's skirt cast a warm glow on Shawn's face and the soft red quilt his mother had made.
Now that he was a single dad with a newborn son, Russ found that working the farm was a lot more complicated. He usually tried to keep Shawn with him, toting him in a baby carrier on his back. On the days he couldn't, he left him with Betty. Each night, after the work was finished, Russ spent the whole evening with Shawn and soon learned to decipher every giggle, gurgle, and grunt. But even with Betty's contributions, raising a baby was more work than he could have imagined. Little did he know he was getting some help on the side.
Root and Runnel had become expert at secreting themselves under beds, inside closets and cupboards, atop curtain rods, behind furniture, and just about any other place an eleven-inch-tall Puddlejumper could think to hide. Whenever Russ was busy or distracted or asleep in the chair next to the crib, they were there to rock the baby to sleep or give him a fresh bottle, burp him, and even change his diapers.
Shawn's eyes always sparkled when they arrived. He loved the warmth of their tiny webbed hands, their earthy smell, and the melodic sound of their voices. Root and Runnel were part of his life, like his red quilt, toy tractor, and the mobile on his cribâand as much a part of his family as his dad.
Everything was going according to Puddlejumper plan, until the morning the baby inexplicably began to cryâ¦and cry, and cryâ¦that whole day and all through the night. Something was very wrong.
After a thorough examination, Doc Thorpe diagnosed colic. The gripe water he prescribed to settle the baby's tummy had no effect. Nor did any of the home remedies Betty suggested. Not knowing what else to do, Russ tried to comfort Shawn by gently rubbing his belly and singing old nursery rhymes. He spent hours carrying the baby around the house. Still he cried.
When the exhausted father finally passed out on the living room couch, Root and Runnel climbed to the peak of the house. Root pulled an acorn cap from a pouch on his belt and, forming a V with his thumbs, blew an urgent whistle to the horizon. Shawn's wail resounded from the nursery as they sat atop the old weather vane, and waited.
P
AV ARRIVED
just after midnight. She had a shock of white hair and piercing green eyes and, at fifteen inches, towered over Root and Runnel. She was the only Puddlejumper ever born without webbed hands and feet, and rarely swam because she couldn't keep up with the others. Instead she spent a lot of time in the Up Above collecting plants, roots, bark, and minerals. Whenever a Jumper was hurt or sick, she always knew the right combination of elements to make a curative salve or a restorative soak. She was like a spring-fed lake, calm on the surface with waters that ran clear and deep.
Pav immediately went to work inspecting the baby. He cried as she prodded and poked, peeled back his lids and read his irises, blew in his ears and looked up his nose and tweaked the joints of his fingers and toes. Cooing softly, she pinched precise portions of pollens and herbs from pouches on her belt. She added shavings of water moccasin skin and a mosquito stinger, then mixed everything in her chestnut urn. After dissolving the concoction in an acorn cap of milk, she used a hollow reed to blow the medicine down the baby's throat.
Before departing, Pav gave Runnel a poison oak balm for his diaper rash and an otter-milk formula for his daily feeding.
