Clover Blue

by Eldonna Edwards

  “Rain needs to get to the hospital. Can you call an ambulance?”

  “Rain? Is she in labor?”

  “She had the baby. They can’t stop the bleeding.”

  “Oh no. Oh dear.” She fishes a set of keys from her purse, calling out behind her, “Charlie, send an ambulance to Saffron Freedom Community!”

  She races toward the car and motions for me to get in the other side. I look down at my feet and shake my head. “I can go faster if I run. I’ll meet you there.”

  When I reach SFC Harmony races up to me, tears streaming down her face. “Blue . . .”

  “No. No, don’t say it.”

  “I’m sorry, Blue. I’m so sorry.”

  “No, no, no . . .” I push past Harmony just as Lotus pulls into the driveway. I follow the wails of my family toward the Sacred Space. In the center of the room, the others are gathered around the wool rug where they’ve carried Rain back to where she labored. Goji is crouched over Rain’s head, crying into a fistful of her hair. I don’t want to believe it. I can’t believe it.

  I walk slowly toward Rain and kneel at her blood-spattered feet. They’re cold in my hands. I take her feet into my lap and close my eyes. The other voices are a blur in the room. It’s just Rain and me drinking cocoa together. Rain and me milking the goats. Rain and me gathering wood, working in the garden, carrying water.

  I finally break under Lotus’s hands on my shoulders as she peels me away from my sister and into her arms. I cry harder than I’ve ever cried in my life. Lotus stands strong against my grief, my rage, my disbelief.

  “Let it out,” is all she says. “Let it out.”

  Sobs of grief give way to dawning fears of what will happen to Rain’s baby. They’ll take her. And once the pieces come together, they’ll take everyone here to jail.

  I pull away from Lotus to face the others, my cheeks soaked with tears. “I loved you. I loved you so much. How could you. . .” I take a long look at the beautiful and kind sister he kept from me, now pale as a ghost on the floor. I think about the relationship we had but mostly about the one we might have had, if she’d been given the chance to find me before Wave and Willow that day. “It’s over. I won’t cover for you anymore.”

  I walk over to Willow and hold out my arms. She clutches the baby to her chest and shakes her head. “Don’t, Blue. Please don’t.”

  “Give her to me.”

  Willow looks back at me, her eyes begging for mercy. She glances toward Goji, still weeping over Rain. And then her shoulders drop, just like that, and she hands the new baby to me.

  Goji lifts his head. He suddenly seems small and weak instead of the brilliant philosopher I’d grown to love so deeply over the years. I look at the baby in my arms, and anger dissolves into action. I move swiftly toward the doorway.

  “My daughter,” Goji says softly. “My beautiful Valkyrie.”

  I stop. Without turning I say, “Heidi. Her name is Heidi.”

  * * *

  We load up the back seat of Mark’s Vega with bottles of goat milk and a few of our things. Lotus charges up to us as Harmony pours gas from a can into the Vega. She points to the bundle in my arms.

  “Kids, you can’t take that baby. You don’t know how to care for an infant.”

  Harmony tosses the rusted can in the dirt and screws the gas cap back on the tank. “We took care of Moon and Aura all the time. We rocked them, burped them, changed their diapers. We did everything but nurse them. We’ve got milk for her. We’ll stop for bottles along the way.”

  Lotus shakes her head, her eyes misting with tears. “Honey, she belongs here, with her family.”

  I step in front of Harmony. “I’m her family.”

  Lotus eyes the baby nervously. “In essence, yes. But Goji is her father.”

  “Listen, I realize that this is going to come as a shock, but Rain is my actual sister. By blood. We’re not taking her. We’re bringing her where she belongs.”

  She glances toward the Sacred Space and back to us. “What are you talking about?”

  I worry what will happen if we don’t get out of here before the ambulance arrives. In as few words as possible, I tell Lotus how I came to SFC.

  “They kidnapped you?”

  “It’s a long story. We need to get free of here before the cops start asking questions.” Harmony climbs into the front seat and I hand her the baby. “All three of us could end up in foster care. Moon and Aura, too.”

  Lotus peers inside the car. “You can drive?”

  “Yes,” we both say.

  She bites her bottom lip. “You need to promise you’ll call me when you get there.”

  Harmony looks up at Lotus. “Promise.”

  Lotus leans over and kisses the baby’s head. “Good-bye, angel.” She closes Harmony’s door and hugs me, then pulls a wad of bills from her handbag and stuffs them in my coat pocket. “Be careful.”

  A siren wails in the distance and Sunny howls as he paces near the car. I let him into the back seat and jump into the driver’s side. When I start to back out, Harmony points to where Doobie is sobbing at the community table, all by himself.

  “I don’t think Doobie knew the whole truth. He seems as shocked as Sirona.”

  I look at Doobie and back to Harmony. “He didn’t ask, though, did he?”

  She starts to cry. “But the pot. If they find his crops he could go to prison for life.”

  I stop and roll down the window. Lotus bends down to meet my gaze. I motion toward the picnic table. “You might want to get him out of here.”

  She glances toward Doobie and runs in his direction. In the rearview mirror I see her pulling him toward her car before we make the curve in the driveway. We drive past the Czech’s farmhouse, past our dilapidated fruit stand, over the Salmon Creek Bridge, and head toward the highway. We don’t make it far before an ambulance and police car fly past us in the opposite direction, lights flashing and sirens wailing.

  I grip the steering wheel.

  “Stay calm,” Harmony says. “We’ll be long gone by the time they figure out she gave birth.”

  “What if we get pulled over for driving a stolen car?”

  Harmony reaches into her pack and pulls out an envelope.

  “What’s that?”

  “Insurance,” she says, fanning through the naked photos of herself before stuffing them in the glove compartment.

  My hands are still shaking as Bodega Highway becomes Highway One becomes US 101 south. The picture of Rain’s face keeps swimming in front of my eyes, like a movie playing over and over. I want this to be a dream. I want to go back to sitting at the table drinking cocoa and laughing, only this time she tells me I’m her brother and she’s taking me back home.

  I wipe the corner of my eye with my sleeve and glance down at the sleeping baby in Harmony’s arms. She still has bits of whitish wax on her ears and a smear of her mother’s blood in the swirl of blond hair at the peak of her head.

  Harmony follows my gaze, lifting a tiny hand that instantly curls around Harmony’s finger. “She’s so little. Do you think we were ever this small?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  Sunny pokes his head between the seats, sniffing at the bundle in Harmony’s lap. The baby throws her arms up, then shudders. Her berry-colored lips make a perfect O. Harmony’s mouth drops open. “Oh my God. She just peed. Right through the blanket. We need to get diapers. And some real baby bottles.”

  A few miles more and Harmony points to a tall Kmart sign off an upcoming exit. I turn off the highway and pull into the shopping center. Harmony finds an extra blanket in the trunk and wraps it around baby Heidi, who doesn’t make a peep, before handing her to me. “You carry her, I’ll find the stuff.”

  Inside the store, Harmony scoops up a box of Pampers.

  “Shouldn’t we get the cloth kind?”

  She shoots me a look. “You want to wash poopy diapers?”

  I don’t answer.

  “I didn’t think so.” S
he grabs a yellow baby blanket from a shelf, along with a tiny kimono with a matching knit cap and a couple of baby bottles. “Let’s get out of here.”

  On our way to the checkout we pass a row of television sets. Harmony pauses and points at the screen where a weird-looking cartoon bird races away from a skinny coyote right before a rock falls on his head, smashing him flat. The bird races back and faces us. Meep-meep.

  I look at Harmony. “Road Runner?”

  She smiles. “Yup. And Wile E. Coyote, who never catches him.”

  We throw a map on the moving belt along with the other stuff. The cashier, an older lady with curly gray hair, glances at the baby in my arms and gasps. “That little one looks brand new!” She looks from Harmony’s face to mine. “You can’t possibly be . . . you’re too young to . . .”

  Harmony pulls out a twenty-dollar bill, compliments of Lotus. “How much?”

  The woman turns back to the register, flustered. “Fourteen dollars and eighty-six cents.”

  She hands Harmony the change. “Take good care of . . . boy or girl?”

  “Girl,” I say.

  “You need to sterilize those nipples!” she shouts behind us.

  Back in the car, Harmony retrieves a funny-looking plastic-coated diaper from the box and fits it around the baby in her lap, taping the sides together. She pulls the kimono over Heidi’s head, being careful around the bloody stub of the cord in her belly button, then slides the cap over her head and wraps the new blanket around her.

  “Blue, look at her. She’s so beautiful.”

  At the sound of Harmony’s voice the baby’s eyes come open. She blinks several times, as if the light is too bright.

  “Hey, Heidi,” I say. “I’m Clover Bl . . . your uncle Noah.”

  Harmony flinches, just a little. “I’m not used to that name. You’ll always be Clover Blue to me.”

  I lean in and kiss Harmony lightly on the cheek. “I can be both.” I turn my attention back to the baby’s gazing stare. “And this is your auntie, Harmony. Or Annie. Or whatever you decide to call her.”

  The baby pulls her fists close to her face. She turns her head and starts sucking on her knuckles.

  “Blue, I think she’s hungry. Can you put some milk in one of those bottles?”

  “That lady said we’re supposed to boil the nipples. And don’t we need to warm the milk?”

  Harmony glances toward the backseat. “I don’t see a stove back there, do you?”

  I fill up a bottle, unable to get the picture of Rain milking Inga and Greta, possibly even this batch. I remember how she’d wondered what it would be like to nurse her baby. I remember her hair glowing around her face, her cheeks blushed in the cool air. I roll the bottle between my palms, trying to warm it, even just a little.

  Heidi’s cry startles me. I hand the bottle to Harmony. “Here you go.”

  The baby’s head swims side to side, desperately trying to take the nipple, which seems too big for her tiny mouth. Harmony puts her pinkie into the corner of the baby’s mouth and as soon as she starts sucking, replaces it with the bottle—a trick we learned with Aura. Harmony smiles triumphantly as she folds the fuzzy new blanket around Heidi and reclines the seat.

  * * *

  The sun sets as we pass through Salinas. I pull into a filling station that doubles as a taqueria. While the gas tank fills I slip inside the phone booth near the air pump. “Operator, can you look up an address for me?”

  “What city please?”

  “Atascadero, California.”

  “Name?”

  “Anderson. Howard and Delores.”

  “One moment please.”

  I glance toward the car, where Harmony is outside walking in circles, bouncing the baby in her arms as Sunny pees on a lamp post.

  “Four one four four Old Railroad Avenue. Would you like the number?”

  “Um, yeah. Sure.” I don’t have anything to write with. “One sec.”

  I open the booth and holler toward Harmony. “I need a pen!”

  She shrugs and turns her back to me.

  I step back inside the phone booth and pick up the dangling receiver. “I’m sorry, operator, I don’t have a pen.”

  Silence.

  “Operator?”

  The line has gone dead. I hang the receiver and out of habit check the change return, but it’s empty.

  I order two burritos and deliver them to Harmony through the back window, where she and the now-crying baby have resettled. Sunny is in the front passenger seat, sniffing at the air when he smells the food.

  “I’ll be right back. I gotta take a leak.”

  With the bathroom door locked, I lean on the sink to catch myself as waves of grief wash over me. The weight of Rain’s death takes me down to my knees in howling sobs. It’s so unfair. Unfair to her, to me, our parents, that innocent baby. Someone knocks on the door and I ignore it, letting the loss move through me until I feel empty.

  By the time I stand back up the sadness has turned to anger. I never knew a love so deep could turn to a fury so strong; all that trust shattered in an instant. Why didn’t Goji make Wave and Willow return me to my family? He robbed us. All those years I could have had with my sister, and then when he had the chance to do the right thing, he robbed me again. I look at my reflection and scream at it. I want to break the mirror but hit the wall with my fist instead, leaving a powdery dent in the plaster and my knuckles bleeding.

  I fish a pocketknife out of my pocket, the one Coyote gave me when I turned twelve. I think about how he stuck up for me, told me I deserved my freedom. I turn the smooth handle over in my hand, remembering how Coyote protected Rain from those bad men that night in the woods. He didn’t know the truth about me, I’m sure of it.

  I open the blade and run my finger along the flat edge, then grab a wad of my rib-length hair, slicing through it in a single swipe. I chop at the rest haphazardly, cursing Goji as I cut away chunks until my hair is the length of my collar. By the time I’m done the floor around me is a nest of blond. I shove the knife in my pocket and walk back to the car.

  Harmony watches me, her eyes widening as I close in on the car. I climb into the front seat and wait, but she doesn’t say a word. I start the engine and pull back onto Highway 101 south.

  Behind me the baby makes soft gulping sounds as Harmony gives her more milk. I glance at the rearview mirror and watch her move the bundle over her shoulder, gently patting like we did hundreds of times with the Youngers. The tears come rushing back when I think of Moon and Aura and how we’ll probably never see them again. I pull over under a streetlight in the town of Atascadero and fold my face into my hands.

  “You okay, Blue?”

  How does she do it? How does Harmony stay so strong?

  “I’m fine. I just need to check the map.” I pull my flashlight out of the glove box and point it at the streets until I find Railroad Ave. “Got it.”

  I take a couple more turns. We wind our way past a subdivision, then a few miles down a country road that turns from asphalt to gravel.

  “I think this is it,” I say, reading the numbers on a steel mailbox in the headlights.

  We creep slowly up the driveway past a paddock dotted with goats and sheep. A ripple of something like a memory or a dream passes through me. I remember that first day meeting Rain, how she smelled so familiar, like a sun-drenched pasture. She smelled like home.

  The headlights brush the side of a two-story house with a long front porch and a wreath on the front door. I shut off the engine. Inside, a woman moves a curtain aside, peering toward our car in their driveway. An outdoor light comes on and the front door opens. A tall man steps into the light, holding a newspaper in one hand. The woman appears behind him.

  My heart nearly folds over on itself.

  Harmony taps me on the shoulder. “Are you nervous?”

  “A little.”

  The couple moves farther onto the porch, letting the door close behind them. I slide out from behind the wheel and
walk around the car to open Harmony’s door. She hands me the sleeping baby. Sunny sniffs the air and whimpers, begging to be let out. “Stay there, boy,” I say.

  I stand frozen in place, unable to move as my parents watch our every move from several yards away.

  Harmony gets out of the car and closes the door. “They’re gonna love you.”

  “I’m bringing them terrible news.”

  She lays her hand on my back and gently nudges me forward. “You’re bringing them twice as much good news.”

  42

  June 1996

  Heidi sits at the dining room table, papers and brochures spread from one end to the other. She’s incredibly beautiful, like her mother, with high cheekbones and fair skin. Although a brunette, she has Bethany’s crystal-blue eyes.

  I peer over the top of the manuscript I’m editing. “You need any help with your essay?”

  “No thanks. I want to do this myself.” She must see a flash of hurt on my face because she quickly adds, “I mean the first draft. I’d love to have you proof it.”

  “I’d be honored.”

  “Uncle Noah, do you think they’ll take me seriously with a name like Heidi Rainbow Anderson?”

  She knows about my past. Having missed so much myself, I was determined to share every single memory I have of her mom so that she’d know what a beautiful human being gave life to her. We chose Heidi’s middle name to honor Rain, the new baby a ray of light in the darkness following her death.

  I set down my book and join her at the table. “Probably more serious than they would Clover Blue.”

  Heidi laughs. “You’re probably right.”

  Heidi chews on her pen and looks up at me, grinning. “I’ve heard Annie call you that before.”

  “She calls me a lot of things.”

  “Yeah. But every once in a while she calls you Blue. Mostly when she’s happy.”

  It’s true. Although we abandoned the names Goji gave us out of principle, they’re the names we knew each other by, the names we had when we fell in love.