5. Three Birds

May 2021

Beth rests against my shoulder. I walk to the lake, swaying a gentle dance through the grass. Her blue eyes are almost closed. I see my grandfather in her eyes and my grandmother in her smile. Both girls have Adam’s ears and my large round eyes, though mine are brown. Beth’s hair is the color of sunshine now, and is growing in slowly. Jane’s curls fall haphazardly to the middle of her back in shades of gold with streaks of red, reminding me of a fire. Kaleidoscopes of genetics swirl together, making each child both familiar and new. Beth rubs her face and coos, snuggling into my neck.

“Mine,” I whisper, and stroke the back of her head while I watch two Sandhill Cranes walking slowly across the field, stopping to peck at the grass. A third crane lags behind them.

Jane and Adam play tag in the field. She whoops as she runs from Adam in a straight line, not entirely understanding the game’s intricacies yet. Adam grins and waves as he quick-walks his way to tag her, routing her away from the birds.

The sky is blue and clear. No signs of rain. Perhaps we will eat outside at the restaurant, I tell myself. I catch the edge in my laugh, thinking about how long it’s been since we ate out.

“Or went on a date,” I mumble and nudge the dirt with my foot. The pandemic was official at the start of last year, and then we learned I was pregnant in July. December came, and – I shut the rest of the thought out of my mind with a decisive turn of the key, locking it away. Then we isolated even further. Hibernating without any of the answers.

Jane is picking flowers with her father. Dandelions, clover, and violets fill her hands. Adam bends to show her how to pick them closer to the dirt. I circle the palm of my hand against Beth’s back, where her heart might be, soothing the two of us with a quiet hush. I sway my hips rhythmically and watch the birds as she sleeps.

I glance at my phone and catch a text from Jackie: “Checking in, Sis,” and send her a quick selfie with Beth and return to the blanket to pass Beth to Adam. He sits down to snuggle with her in the shade.

“Jane, let’s look for faeries,” I whisper to her for effect. She giggles and leans into my hip for a hug.

“Okay, Mommy,” Jane nods, and we walk toward the small patch of trees that line the lake. “Look,” she says, sniffing at the violets and gently petting the petals, “I picked some flowers for Beth. Maybe we can give some to the faeries.”

“What a great idea. Can I smell those?” I lean into the dandelions, and Jane laughs as I inhale deeply. Crossing my eyes for effect, I let the pollen remain on my nose, for Jane, who immediately rubs her nose in it and is dusted with yellow.

“Maybe this will attract the faeries to us,” I say.

Jane’s blue eyes widen, and she presses her face back into the dandelions, rubbing until she is a patchwork of pollen. We gather sticks and leaves and look for mushrooms and acorn caps on the ground.

“Sure signs of their homes,” I explain, handing her a cap and telling her it must be one of their hats. She stares at it reverently, letting it sit in her hand, curling her little fingers to form a cup.

“Mommy, when can we have parties again?” Jane picks up a small stone and puts it in her pocket.

“I hope we can have them again soon, sweetheart.” I pick a dandelion puff and hand it to her, hoping to distract her. Jane smiles at it and closes her eyes to make a wish. She blows at it and watches the seeds parachute to the ground. A few stick to her mouth. I brush them off her lips.

“I want a birthday party,” she says, courage mustering as the corner of her mouth quivers.

“I know, sweetheart. We are trying to be careful because of the germs. But we will definitely celebrate your birthday, my little Wildflower. You’re going to be four. What do you think you’ll want to do when you’re a four-year-old?”

“I want to ride a big girl bike!” I pocket the gift idea for later. “And have a party.”

“What sort of cake would you want for your birthday?”

“Chocolate with strawberries and a unicorn with faeries and flamingos on top. And a baby dragon sitting on a cloud. And lots of rainbow sprinkles. Is that a good idea, Mommy?” Jane peeks under a rock.

“Excellent idea,” I nod.

As we plan for August, we continue our search, picking up logs to check under them for signs of magic. I weave a story for Jane about faeries, toadstools, and dresses made of dark green leaves covered with moss and dewdrops. I pull on the tale’s threads for her, letting us slide into their world for a long time before we return to the car. Adam has already settled Beth into her car seat. Miraculously asleep.

“Find any faeries, Jane?” Adam whispers, kissing her head before he helps her into the car.

“No, but we found their hats and clothes,” Jane whispers, an octave above Adam. I shush them both and smile, checking his work with each kid’s seat and making adjustments.

“So they’re naked?” Adam’s eyes widen, making Jane laugh.

“Daddy,” she draws the word out slowly and rolls her eyes at him.

I shush them both but smile at them as I check Beth’s seat. Adam steps around to the back of the car, catching me in a hug on my way to Jane, and tickles my ear with his mustache.

“We could be naked later,” he whispers. I kiss him softly.

“Maybe,” I whisper.

I rest my hand on my stomach, then quickly drop my hand and step back as I am reminded of its shape in the mirror from earlier this morning. Adam pretends not to have noticed. He shifts his weight to his left foot and clears his throat before trying to smile quickly, but I see his fingers are already fidgeting with his phone.

“Let’s take them home,” I say.

Adam looks at me and asks, “No Luddy’s?”

I shake my head. He nods back at me. “Not yet,” I answer.

“Okay,” he looks at his phone.

I smooth the bottom of my dress with my fingers, pressing the dress to flatten it against my thighs.

“Beth’s asleep anyway,” he says, waiting for me to reply. I resist the urge to apologize.

“I’ll grill burgers,” he says, catching the look of guilt on my face before I can mask it.

I sigh and nod. “Let’s do a fire pit too. We have the s’mores fixings,” I add.

“Good idea,” he smiles.

“Only the best from me,” I quip, “Even when I’m exhausted.”

Adam’s brow furrows. “Right, burgers and s’mores. Pajamas for you.” He kisses my forehead.

I smile weakly, feeling like a coward for the play that I just made. It is true. I am exhausted. It’s just not the central theme here. I sigh quietly to myself as I make my way from Jane back to my seat, buckling myself into the car. A text from Jackie distracts me with a GIF and several heart emojis. We spend the ride home in silence, letting Beth sleep. I watch the world as we drive past it, and catch Jane peering out of her window. She looks lost in thought, as do I. Two girls at opposite sides of our lives. A bit too stuck in our towers for our own good, I lecture myself, while I read the latest message from Dr. Reynolds’ office, detailing Beth’s next appointment. I put the phone down in my lap, resisting the urge to read Henry’s last message to me from eight years ago. No point in doing so. I remember the words. I squeeze my thighs together, locking them at the knees. Adam’s hand rests on my thigh, as we wait at a red light, bringing me out of my daydream. I close my eyes and tell myself to relax.