The Four Winds

Elsa smiled at masked patients as she passed them. Most were either very young or very old.

Ant sat up in his narrow cot, pretending swordplay with a fork and a spoon. “Take that, matey,” he said, clanging the fork into the spoon. His voice was still rough and the gas mask sat in readiness on the small table beside him. “You’re no match for the Shadow!”

“Hey there,” Elsa said, sitting down on the edge of his bed. He looked so much better today. For the past ten days, Ant had been lethargic and had remained listless even when someone came to visit. Here though, finally, was her boy. He’s back. Elsa’s relief was so sudden and staggering she felt tears sting her eyes.

“Mommy!” He launched himself at her, hugged her so fiercely she almost fell off the bed. She had difficulty letting him go.

“I’m playing pirates,” he said, grinning at her.

“You lost a tooth.”

“I did! And I really lost it. Nurse Sally thinks I swallowed it.”

Elsa lifted the basket she’d brought with her. Inside was a bottle of orzata, the sweet syrupy drink they made each year from almonds purchased at the general store. This was the last precious bottle they had, made years ago and hoarded for special occasions. Elsa added a splash of it to a bottle she’d filled with canned milk and shook it to make bubbles, then handed it to Ant.

“Jeepers,” he said, savoring his first sip. She knew he would try to drink it slowly and make it last, but he wouldn’t be able to.

“And this,” Elsa said, producing a single sugar cookie glazed with sweet icing.

Ant nibbled the cookie like a mouse, starting around the edges, working his way in to the chewy center.

“It looks like one lucky little boy has a mom who loves him,” said the doctor, stopping by the bed.

Elsa stood. “He looks better today, Doctor.”

“He must be improving; the nurses tell me he’s becoming a handful,” Dr. Rheinhart said, ruffling Ant’s hair. “His fever finally broke last night and his breathing is much improved. He is absolutely on the mend. I want to keep an eye on him for a few days, but that’s just to be safe.”

Elsa offered the doctor a cookie. “It’s not much, I know.”

The doctor took the cookie and smiled, taking a bite. “So, Ant, would you like to go home soon?”

“Boy, would I, Doc. My toy soldiers miss me.”

“How about Tuesday?”

“Yippee!” Ant said. A little cough accompanied his enthusiastic cry. Elsa’s heart clutched at the sound. Would she feel a rush of fear at every cough from now on? “Thank you, Doctor,” she said.

He gave her a tired smile. “See you Tuesday.”

Elsa sat back down beside her son. His favorite book lay waiting for them. The Tale of Little Pig Robinson by Beatrix Potter. He could listen over and over to the story of Little Pig’s escape on a rowboat to the land where the Bong-Tree grows, loving it anew each time. Or maybe it was the familiarity he loved, the idea that every time it ended in the same way.

He snuggled into the crook of her arm, eating the cookie while she read to him. Finally, she closed the book.

“Yah gotta go?” he said, looking forlorn.

“The doc wants to keep you here for a few days, just to make sure you’re well, but in no time at all, we will be off on our adventure.”

“To California,” he said.

“To California.” Elsa pulled him into her arms and held him tightly, then kissed his forehead and whispered, “’Bye, baby boy.”

Leaving him was always hard, but finally, there was hope. Ant would be coming home soon.

Outside, she glanced down the street and saw people coming out of the school. A glum, quiet gathering. She saw Tony exchange a few words with Mr. Carrio, then shake his hand.

Elsa waited for Tony on the boardwalk. He moved slowly toward her, looking beaten.

“How’s our boy?” Tony asked.