Sage did not miss a stroke as he took in what she had said. At first he thought she was talking about Runner, but when he reflected for a moment, he realized that she had said that the child would make everything perfect. He stopped abruptly, his eyes wide. “Child?” he said, his heart thumping. “What child do you refer to?”
Leonida giggled. She reached for one of his hands and placed it on her tummy. “That child,” she said softly. “The one growing within the walls of my womb. Our child, Sage. Yours and mine.”
The blissfulness of the announcement momentarily rendered him silent. Then he pulled her against him and gave her an excited hug. “We will be true parents this time,” he said. “The child will be borne of our love. It is something so wonderful it is hard to imagine.”
“It is wonderful,” Leonida said, placing her hands on his face and drawing his lips down upon hers. She gave him a sweet kiss, and when he thrust himself within her again, this time he gave her a slow and leisurely kind of loving, and her gasps of pleasure became long, soft whimpers.
Chapter 33
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine
With pulses that beat double.
—ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
Several Months Later
A fire was burning low in the fire pit. A large black pot hanging over it gave off delicious fragrances of onion, carrots, and various other vegetables cooking with chunks of rabbit mixed in to make a stew.
Outside the hogan, corn, the silks just showing against the sky, was aplenty in the large, communal garden. The seedling peach trees that had been set out in the fertile valley close to the village were sprouting from the soil, the promise of fruit now a reality.
It was early morning. The fire was welcome to Leonida, for the night had been cooler than usual. She was sitting on a mat beside the fire, Runner squatting in front of her with his back to her. She was brushing his hair with a sheaf of straw after having shampooed it with yucca-root suds.
“Ouch,” Runner complained. “You pulled my hair.”
“I’m being as careful as I can,” Leonida murmured. “Just sit still for a moment longer and then you can go and join your friends at play.”
“Please hurry,” Runner whined. “I don’t want to play with my friends. I want to go and look for Chips. She’s been gone for days and days.”
“Your chipmunk has just gone away long enough to have her babies, and then she’ll come back and be your friend again,” Leonida said softly. “And while we’re talking about your chipmunk, don’t you think it’s best to change her name to something more ladylike now that you know she’s a she? Chips sounds too boyish to me.”
“I like the name Chips,” Runner said stubbornly. He shrugged. “Anyhow, she doesn’t know the difference. She’s used to being called Chips. Another name might confuse her.”
Leonida smiled. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said, laying her brush aside. She pulled Runner’s shoulder-length hair back and tied it in a Chongo.
Then she turned him around to face her. “There. It’s done,” she said. “You can go now. But don’t go far looking for Chips. I cannot tell you often enough about those dangerous cliffs.”
Runner nodded and bounced to his feet. When he started to rush away from Leonida, she grabbed his hand and stopped him.
When he turned around, frowning, she gazed up at him. “Did you hear me clearly enough about not going far?” she said flatly.
“Yes, ma’am,” Runner said, looking soberly down at her. Then his gaze shifted, stopping at the swell of her stomach as it pressed tightly against the inside of her cotton skirt. He fell to his knees and looked up at her for approval. Every day he listened at her stomach to see if he could hear the baby’s movements.
Leonida was always touched by his interest. She placed a hand at the back of his head and smiled down at him as he scarcely breathed, his eyes curiously wide. She was well aware of her baby moving around inside her, for her ribs got an occasional kick.
She had to believe that she was going to have a boy. Surely a girl would not be as active or as strong. She recalled one day when she had rested a bowl on her round mound. Suddenly the child kicked so hard inside her, it knocked the bowl to the floor. Another time she had felt the perfect shape of a knee or an elbow. Those times she would cherish in her storehouse of memories forever.
“Do you hear anything?” Leonida murmured. “You’d better watch out,” she then teased. “You’ll get kicked.”
Runner giggled.
She moved her hand away from his head as he leaned away from her. “I could hear some strange sort of sounds today,” he marveled.
“Yes, the baby is quite active this morning,” Leonida said, splaying her own fingers over the large ball of her stomach. “It’s a wonderful feeling. I know the child is healthy.”
“Will it be a brother or sister?” Runner asked for at least the hundredth time.
“Well, I hope it’s a boy,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t want a daughter of mine running around with such a name as Chips.”