Christmas Grace, Signing Seeds

by Lynn Donovan

  He built their cabin with his own two hands and the timber God provided. None too soon, too, because Anna had told him she was with child. He and Anna loved God with all their hearts, all their minds, and all their souls; just like the Holy Bible said. Anna read to him from the blessed book every evening. He loved her more than the air, the stream, and the mountain.

  But today fearful torment weighed down his heart like the merciless wind and wet snow of the overwhelming blizzard.

  They were starving.

  He had to kill something to eat.

  The creek’s life-blood gurgled and raced under the sheets of ice, solidifying across the surface of the rocks. Unrelenting layers of snow quickly piled up around him. With both fists pressed against his quivering lips, he begged God to hear his plea. Brackish tears and salty sweat blended on his face. The cold steel of his Henry rifle burned against his skin. He had three cartridges. He needed one kill.

  “Lord, please,” he prayed. “Help me. You are the provider. You provided for Elijah when there was nothing. Please, God, show me a rabbit, a deer, an elk, anything, so I can feed my family. Anna’s got to eat, Lord, or she’ll loose the baby.” He sucked down air and terror.

  “I can’t lose her. Dear God, please, please don’t take her from me.” The storm in his heart swept his soul deeper into despair than this harsh blizzard could ever do. He squeezed his eyes closed. Saliva slipped from his grimacing mouth and formed crystals in his unkempt beard. He reached with a bare, dirty hand to a dormant aspen and pulled himself up to stand. He had to keep moving or he’d be swallowed up by the storm and freeze to death.

  A miracle. That was all he asked. A small miracle. Game don’t roam the woods during storms like this. They hunker down, like he should be doing. But he couldn’t wait out the storm. Anna looked like death. Her dark, sunken eyes warned her health was failing, fast. The baby drew its life from her, but she had gone far too long without food. Water alone wasn’t going to sustain her and the baby much longer. This was where he needed to be in order to save his wife and unborn child. But, God was silent. The miracle Aleksandr sought was not being provided.

  Anger roiled in his gut. Where was God? The escalating rage shook his whole body. He pressed his lips together and scanned the woods. Words ripped from his heart, clawing at his throat, “Where are you!”

  Dozens of crows startled and flapped their wings to escape Aleksandr’s sudden outburst. An ominous sensation of fear cascaded through his chest as he watched the black contrast against the snowstorm’s white veil. Could he shoot the birds? If he didn’t kill something, he was going to starve to death. And so was Anna…

  A rustle in the tree line brought his sight down from the sky, the snow crunched under the weight of something approaching on the other side of the creek. His desperate glare focused through the whitened sheets of horizontal raging snow. He snapped his rifle to his shoulder, and then lowered it. A dark silhouette stood between a ponderosa pine and a clump of aspens. Aleksandr bowed his head against the pelting ice and stared.

  Was it a man? Had Aleksandr been out too long, hallucinating? He had heard the eyes can make a man see things that are not there when they were freezing over. Before they go blind. What was this he now saw?

  “You fool!” The dark form spat the words.

  Aleksandr’s eyes popped open, his head shot up. He ground his teeth.

  Across the creek, the dark, hooded figure stood, veiled by the evergreens, the barren tree trunks, and the dense, blowing snow. “What have you ever done to deserve the Father to hear your pathetic plea for your whore?”

  “She’s my wife!” Aleksandr declared through clinched teeth. “She’s with child. It’s my fault she’s dying.”

  He slammed his fist against his chest.

  The Shadow’s chuckle, whipped by the abusive wind, barely reached Aleksandr’s ears. “Perhaps, it is as it should be.”

  “No! I don’t believe that.” Aleksandr shook his head. His knuckles blanched as his grip on the sapling tightened. “Abraham prayed to God for Sarah’s sake, Isaac prayed for Rebecca’s, Jacob prayed for Rachael’s. God heard their plea. Anna, she read it to me. God’ll hear me, too!”

  Pelting snow swirled against his raw, freeze-burned cheeks. He bowed his head, pressing against his fleece-lined collar and swallowed hard. Who was this terrifying form and why did it mock his feeble faith?

  An oil-black, pointed tongue slipped across its thin lower lip. “Has He heard you, then?” The figure rotated and moved deeper into the woods.

  Aleksandr stared as the snow engulfed the dark shadow. He stepped closer to the murmuring creek. “Wait—”

  The figure stopped. It twisted its head to meet Aleksandr’s eyes. A pale indigo smile separated its lips. The wind howled through the trees. The water gurgled underneath the frozen sheets of ice. The figure spoke slowly, “I could save your precious Anna.”

  The blizzard threatened to take the words, the promise, and never let them reach Aleksandr’s consciousness. God was silent to him now. Why couldn’t he feel the glorious presence as he had before? Time was running out for Anna. He couldn’t wait upon the Lord. He needed a miracle and he needed it now. His eyes widened, and then narrowed. His breath froze in his chest. He stared at the insipid, shrouded face. “What”—he swallowed bitter bile—“would I have to do?”

  The figure grinned, its yellowed teeth protruding over its bottom lip. It sucked air through the spiky tines and stepped closer to the creek.

  The vulgar smile sickened Aleksandr. He clung to the aspen by brute strength as if he alone held up the entire world by this one sapling tree.

  “When the…spirit is gone out of a man,” It began to speak slowly, purposefully. “He walketh through dry places, seeking rest, and findeth none.”

  The hooded figure stepped from the tree line as if it were intent on being clearly heard.

  “You…you want me to build you a bed, uh, a house, maybe?” Aleksandr squinted to focus on the puzzling words.

  “A place of rest, yes.” Its eyes darted right and left, as if suddenly it realized it was exposed and questioned whether it should stand on the open creek bank.

  “But a house, like your sticks-and-stone cabin”—it shook its head—“no.”

  “I—I don’t understand.” Aleksandr stepped back. He hated this. He wasn’t a smart man. Riddles and puzzles confused him.

  The figure lifted a long, boney, blanched hand to its chest. It splayed its fingers across its heart and spoke slowly. “I can give you what you want.” It moved back to the tree line. “You and Anna shall be together, for a…very long time. You shall walk beside her always.”

  “…And the child?”

  Its head tipped back slightly, as if it were considering the question. Its eyes darted about and then came to focus on Aleksandr. “…and the child.”

  Aleksandr glared at the figure. Why wouldn’t it tell him what he had to do? He filled his barrel chest with air and bellowed, “Tell me!”

  “The ancients built a horse. It hid them from harm.”

  Aleksandr wiped his meaty hand down his frigid face. “You want me to build you a horse?”

  “A child’s toy.” A dismissive wave emphasized the minimalness of its request.

  “A toy?” Aleksandr glared at the puzzling silhouette. “Since when should one such as yourself possess an inanimate.”

  “Yes, you would be so limited in your thinking. An inanimate vessel shall serve my purpose for longer than the flesh of man. Your days are numbered, a wooden toy has no such limits.” It leaned its head forward. “Your talents lie in knife and wood.”

  “My—my whittlin’?”

  The figure scratched its pallid jaw. “Yesss, your whittling.”

  “You want me to whittle you a child’s horse?”

  It nodded. “Finish the gift before your son is born and my promise will be fulfilled.”

  “My son?” Aleksandr blinked.

  The figure lifted his right arm as a knott
ed finger stretched out from under its dark sleeve toward the woods across from the creek. Aleksandr followed the line of sight. Another silhouette, a four legged creature, struggled a few yards deeper into the woods. White, snow laden swirls whipped between the aspen trees. Aleksandr’s gaze returned to the dark figure. But it no longer stood before him.

  Aleksandr glanced right and left. He glanced over his shoulder. Nothing. A shiver shook him to the bone and he forced his cold limbs to lift his rifle. Long antlers of an elk were entangled with a suffocating vine. Aleksandr’s miracle. His salvation from starvation stood trapped and helpless. He stared down his rifle’s barrel, lined up the sight, and squeezed the trigger. The animal flinched and then hung by his entangled spikes. It was a good kill, right through the heart.

  ****

  “No, Alek! Sweet Jesus, no!” Anna screamed. Horror and darkness filled her mind. Had it been a dream? She moved stiffened muscles to search for her husband. Dying embers glowed orange and red in the large stone hearth. A black cast iron pot, where she had melted snow, hung from the hook anchored in the rock frame of the fire place. It was all they had to fill their stomachs.

  Where was Alek? She closed her eyes and drifted into the numbing darkness. Vaguely, somewhere far away, she heard him open and close the heavy wooden door. The iron brace screeched as the pot was moved over a blazing fire. Warmth filled the cabin along with an aroma.

  Meat.

  Alek spoke her name and lifted her shoulders across his arm. A warm liquid touched her lips and she drew it into her mouth. She blinked and tried to focus on his face. He had found meat. They would live.

  Fear hovered in her thoughts, but it had been a silly dream. She loved him with all her heart. And now she owed him her life, and the life of their unborn child. She forced a smile to her lips. “Alek…”

  “Shh…eat.” He spooned more to her mouth.

  How did he find anything in this storm? God must have shown him the way. A shiver ran down her spine. Bile lapped at the back of her throat. She swallowed hard against it and tried to take more of the rich broth into her mouth. Nausea swept over her and she pulled away from the proffered spoon. Alek set the bowl and spoon beside the bed and lowered her onto the down-filled pillow. Her dream vividly returned to her mind.

  Meat? How did he find game in this blizzard?

  She blinked and tried to focus on him. His face appeared to be tight with worry. She glanced at the cast iron pot hanging over the fire, and returned her gaze to his fearful eyes. Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong.

  She forced the words that clamored at her heart, “What have you done?”