by Ted Hill
Catherine looked up over the hedge, but she must not have detected Molly for she continued her conversation when she ducked back down on the swing. “I don’t know why she didn’t see you. I thought we had a 50/50 chance, but you never know with this sort of thing.”
There came a short pause before Catherine answered some unspoken question.
“Yes, she is very beautiful. I think that has something to do with the pregnancy.”
She paused.
“I’m glad that makes you happy. Everyone has been supportive. He will have a wonderful reception when he’s finally born.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s a boy. I know these kinds of things.” Another pause followed. “He’s out of town on a mission. Samuel has him out doing something about the grasshoppers. You don’t need to worry. Michael is very responsible now.”
“I meant Hunter. I flip-flop with all the nicknames, except for Raven, of course. I don’t want her to hit me.” Catherine laughed her innocent little girl laugh.
Molly smiled, even though the conversation disturbed her greatly. Catherine obviously suffered from some sort of dementia. Molly wondered if the child’s guilt over not saving Jimmy had become greater than Hunter’s guilt over being the one who was saved in his place. She wanted to sneak back home and check her books before confronting the little girl’s delusions. Granted, Catherine was not an ordinary child, but something could still be seriously wrong with her. Everyone was susceptible to mental anguish, especially in these times.
Catherine’s conversation continued. “Oh you saw her aura. It’s been getting brighter over the past month.”
“No, she doesn’t remember who she is yet, but I suspect the time is getting close. The hellhounds must have seen her glowing and that’s why they attacked.”
“She’s what?” Catherine shot up off the swing and peered over the hedge.
Molly stood out like a garish garden gnome beside the narrow trunk of the tree.
“Don’t you know it’s impolite to spy?”
“I wasn’t spying. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Catherine frowned and looked back over her shoulder. “Yes, I’m being analyzed this very instant.”
Another pause and Catherine nodded. “I know. It is frustrating.”
Molly ducked out from beneath her hiding spot and walked up onto the porch. Catherine patted the seat next to her. Molly looked around the empty porch. Then she shrugged and took a seat.
Catherine hopped down, pushed the seat of the swing back, and then spun around and hopped up, releasing the swing into motion. “Keep us going, please. My feet don’t reach.”
Molly wrapped her hand around the metal chain and kicked off the porch. They swung higher and Catherine folded her legs up on the bench, looking pleased to have someone doing all the work.
“So?” Molly hesitated.
Catherine’s head snapped around to give Molly her full attention. “Questions?”
“Uh, yes, I have a few.”
“My favorite color is pink. I like the number seven and eleven best because they both rhyme with Heaven. My favorite food is bread. I’m partial to grape juice, although not the kind that Samuel makes because too much of that can lead to temptation. I don’t remember my mother and don’t know how long she breast fed me. I don’t remember my biological father either, but my real Father watches over me from His Kingdom in Heaven and, no, He would never do anything inappropriate.”
“Why’s that?” Molly asked for lack of anything smarter to say.
“He’s incapable.” Catherine leaned back. She signaled with her hand for Molly to keep the motion going.
Molly kicked off the porch. “Who were you talking to a minute ago?”
“Do you see anyone?”
Molly looked around the porch again. “No, I don’t.”
“Then I was talking to no one.” With a giant twinkle in her blue eyes, Catherine appeared to be having a good time. “My turn. Why were you at Samuel’s in the middle of the night?”
Molly pulled her shirt, Samuel’s shirt, down. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Hunter’s only been gone a couple of days.”
Heat rushed into Molly’s cheeks. She leveled her gaze on the smiling, happy girl. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t say I went looking for comfort in Samuel’s bed.”
“So defensive.”
“My turn. Why would hellhounds be after me?”
Catherine stared at her for a long moment. The swing stopped swinging.
“You want the truth?”
Molly nodded. “Of course I do.”
Catherine bit her bottom lip and motioned Molly to start swinging them again.
Once they were going high enough, Catherine said, “I can’t tell you everything. One, I don’t know it all, and two, you wouldn’t believe me anyways. Some things are going to happen to you, and it will all make better sense when it does. Right now, if I tried to tell you everything, it might affect the outcome. Understand?”
Molly shook her head slowly. That, with the swinging and Catherine’s explanation, left her feeling dizzy. Not to mention lack of sleep and the fight with the hellhounds and the help she lent reviving Samuel.
Catherine groaned. “This would be a lot easier if you remembered who you are.”
Molly hedged back from the unexpected statement. She sort of remembered who she was before Catherine fixed her. “Do you mean when I was evil Molly?”
“No, before that. In your past life.”
Molly straightened her knees and halted the swing. “My past what?”
The front door opened. Ginger waddled out in her golden maternity blouse stretched tightly across the round life resting inside her belly. She glowed in the morning light.
“Molly, are you okay? Catherine told me what happened.”
Molly looked from Catherine to Ginger and back to Catherine. “My past what?”
Catherine smiled at her like Molly was simple and patted her hand with what must have been patience. “It’s called reincarnation.”
Eleven
Molly
Obviously, one needed a ton of patience when dealing with Catherine. Molly rubbed her forehead. Catherine could and had done some amazing things, like basically raising the dead or at least not letting Hunter, and now Samuel, slip too far away before bringing them back. And the world had grown a whole lot weirder since Catherine’s arrival. Between a boy named Chase being responsible for the plague that killed all the adults, and now hellhounds evaporating in sunlight, reincarnation was just another pill to swallow. Except this giant pill had Molly’s name written across it and she never took her medicine well.
“Reincarnation, right,” she said, pouring sarcasm into the words. “So what was I before, a flower?”
Catherine frowned. “If you’re not going to take this seriously then what’s the point?”
Ginger stepped over, belly leading the way. Molly stood up and offered her side of the swing. All the swinging motion was making it difficult to talk to Catherine and maintain any type of concentration.
“I can stand,” Ginger said.
“Luis put you on bed rest didn’t he?” Molly held the swing steady.
“I had to get out of my room for a bit.” Ginger took the offered seat. “I get anxious lying around all day. You know how I like to stay busy.”
Catherine placed her head next to Ginger’s belly and nodded like she was listening to the daily news on a radio. “Oh, really? Well then, I think you should come out when you’re ready.”
Ginger shared a look with Molly and shook her head. “Our morning ritual.”
Catherine lifted her head and smiled at the belly. “Okay, I’ll let her know.”
Ginger rubbed Catherine’s back. “What’s the status report?”
“He’s still worried about being cold. He says he’s just about ready but he’s having a hard time finding his way out.”
“Tell him not to worry about the cold. It’s been a sunny August so far and Lu
is has everything we need to keep him warm. As far as getting out, tell him to head down.”
Catherine relayed the information then nodded again.
Ginger shifted and held her hands around the lower portion of her belly. “Oh, my goodness.”
Molly stood up from where she leaned against the house. “What is it?”
Ginger’s face twisted. “He’s really moving.” She blew out a long breath of air and sucked back in an equal amount. She narrowed her eyes at Catherine. “What did you do?”
“I’m just the messenger.” Catherine glanced down at the belly like she just heard a shout and pressed her ear against it. “Okay, I’ll let her know.”
Ginger huffed and puffed like a bellows at the fireplace. “What?”
“He’s having a hard time turning around.”
Ginger’s face pinched in discomfort. “What?”
“He says he’s tangled up in something.”
Mark ran up to the house like a pack of hellhounds were having breakfast on the porch. His heavy breathing matched Ginger’s perfectly. He wore a pair of denim cutoff shorts and an orange T-shirt with “BRONCOS” written across the chest in navy letters.
“What’s wrong?”
Molly knelt next to Ginger and held her hands. “She’s having the baby. We need something to take her to Luis’s.”
Luckily, Mark had been through all of this before. He didn’t even hesitate. “Give me three minutes.” And he was gone, sprinting across the yard and down the street, pumping his arms as his legs churned like a galloping horse.
Ginger gripped Molly’s hands in a tight squeeze, wincing from pain Molly could only imagine. Ginger’s face reddened and finally she relaxed her grip. Molly waited for the feeling in her hands to return.
Catherine scooted off the swing and held it steady. She stepped close and placed her small hand on Molly’s shoulder. “We’re going to need you sooner than I thought, Margaret.”
Molly straightened up. The name jingled inside her mind, like the tinkling of familiar sleigh bells from Christmases long ago. Her back became uncomfortably cold and she wiggled in an attempt to shake off a frosty shiver. Memories flooded her mind, but she couldn’t make sense of the sequence.
Catherine settled her palm over Molly’s forehead. A warm sensation seeped into her, flowing with the pulse of her heartbeat, carrying itself into the core of Molly’s soul. She closed her eyes.
A shining light stood at the end of a long tunnel. Molly’s hands lifted and stretched toward the light. Her feet walked with a purpose and conviction that she never knew she possessed. The closer she came to the light the more brilliant it burned, and that warmth she felt from the small hand on her forehead was nothing compared to the searing fire that blazed from this illumination. She found it odd that her eyes weren’t smoldering in their sockets and that her flesh did not fry off her bones.
Molly found herself, at last, standing in front of a golden cross, the source of the light. She fell to her knees and clasped her hands together, zapped by an electric realization, rewiring and then recharging her mind and spirit.
“I am Margaret.”
* * *
Someone shook her awake, but she held her eyes shut, wanting to remain in the dream.
“Do you think you should be doing that?” A familiar male voice asked. “I thought you said she hit her head.”
Little hands grabbed her shoulders and shook again. “It was just a bump, silly. Nothing to worry about at all.”
“Yeah, but…”
“I don’t have time for this. We need her in the other room.”
“What can Molly do in the other room that Luis and you can’t?”
“She has a special talent for these sorts of things.”
“What, childbirth? What in the world does my sister know about delivering babies?”
She waited for the answer, but one didn’t follow. She remembered being inside the stifling foul belly of a dragon once. She remembered that her devotion and prayers to the Lord were rewarded with freedom. Not to mention the golden cross she wore had irritated the beast’s belly. She smiled in her feigned sleep.
“Now you’re just faking. Get up, Margaret. You got work to do.”
“Why did you call her that?” the male voice asked, rising concern evident in the way his timbre trembled. “What’s going on with my sister?”
Margaret opened her eyes and recognized the handsome young man with the troubled brown eyes. He stood over a girl with shiny strands of golden hair. She knew them both right away, and then she knew herself completely, like the closing of a circle, tying itself off at the ends and containing everything within.
The girl pressed him back with her tiny hand. “It’s just a little head trauma. Nothing to worry about.” The girl, Catherine, spun around and grabbed Margaret’s shoulder and shook her roughly. Catherine stopped, catching Margaret staring up at her, and placed her hands on her hips. “I knew you were faking.”
Margaret covered her yawn and stretched. “Hello, Catherine. You’re smaller than I remember.”
“How’s the head?”
Margaret sat up from where she’d been resting on the big yellow sofa in the waiting area of Luis’s clinic. She felt fantastic, like she had slept for years and her body was reborn in the spirit. She patted her chest and became worried when she couldn’t locate her cross.
Catherine reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out the golden chain with the cross dangling at the end. She twirled it on her finger. “I had Scout pick this up for you. I knew you’d want one as soon as you came around.”
Margaret reached out and took it from her in mid-swing. “You shouldn’t treat it like that.”
“Molly, what’s going on? Are you okay?”
Margaret gazed at her twin brother, Mark. She felt a pang of regret, knowing this was all going to sound very confusing to him. Mark believed only what he could see, and what she had to explain was so much more than visual.
“I’m fine.” She rubbed the back of her head and found nothing. Catherine was just coming up with an excuse as to why Margaret was unconscious. Mark’s eyes were filled with concern, so Margaret shrugged. “Just a little bump.”
“Why was she calling you Margaret? I thought you hated your full name.”
Molly did hate the name, but Margaret didn’t have the same issues. Molly hated the old fashioned stuffiness of Margaret. Old fashion suited Margaret just fine. All this thinking in two different mindsets felt weird. Molly had a separate life of seventeen years, but now that Margaret had returned, Molly would have to acclimate.
“Oh, it’s not so bad when Catherine uses it.”
The door that separated the actual clinic side to Luis’s swung open. Vanessa held the knob, looking very much in control, but worry filled her eyes. She wore a blue sterile gown, a matching cap, and a mask covering her mouth. She’d been through a pregnancy before and knew the large amount of risk associated with bringing a life into the world for both the child and the mother. Vanessa would have bled to death when she delivered David if it hadn’t been for Catherine’s timely arrival. Margaret knew timing had nothing to do with it. Everything was related and timed to the second according to His plan.
Vanessa pulled the mask down. “Catherine, you better get in here and tell us what’s going on. Luis is concerned because Ginger’s having contractions but her cervix is not dilating.”
Margaret reached for Catherine’s hand. “What is it?”
“He’s tangled in the umbilical cord.”
Margaret sighed, stood up, and brushed off her jeans. She looked down at the print of a naked baby swimming after a dollar bill on her shirt. She smiled when she remembered Samuel’s reaction to seeing her wearing it. Now she thought the shirt was very appropriate, even though she didn’t understand the part about the dollar bill.
“Wrapped umbilical,” she said, walking toward the door. “Is that all?”
“Um, Molly,” Vanessa said, blocking her way. “I
don’t mean to be rude, but I think Catherine is the one we need right now.”
Catherine stepped up beside Margaret. “No, this is all Molly. She has a knack for this sort of stuff. Trust me.”
There was little trust in Vanessa’s hardened, worried expression.
Catherine reached out and patted Vanessa’s hand. “Trust me,” she said again with a smile. “I’ll be in there too if that will help your confidence.” Catherine took Vanessa inside and Margaret followed, leaving Mark standing by the yellow sofa.
Twelve
Margaret
Ginger lay on the narrow hospital bed in discomfort. Lines from the struggle of childbirth were drawn on her face. Her hair hung in sweaty strands, pasted against her cheeks. But that was not the thing that stopped Margaret dead in her tracks.
The transparent form of Jimmy hovering next to Ginger’s side nearly keeled her over.
Catherine nudged Margaret in the ribs. “What’s wrong?”
Margaret gave Catherine a slow look.
“Oh, you mean him. Yeah, he crossed back over with Samuel. Nice timing, right?”
Margaret held up her cross and kissed it, then tucked it down the front of her shirt, letting its comfort rest against her skin. She stepped closer to the group around Ginger and avoided looking at Jimmy as long as she could. Finally the compulsion overwhelmed her. She glanced straight into his eyes just in time to see Vanessa walk through his chest and make a comment about how chilly the air felt. Jimmy’s ethereal form swirled with Vanessa’s passage then reinstated itself. He smiled at Margaret.
His face held that same concern and worry that often accompanied it in life. Would it always mark him or was there peace with death? Margaret thought she should remember, but had she ever truly died?
Jimmy’s hand fell through Ginger’s wrist as his attention drifted back to the only girl he’d ever loved. Margaret, or rather Molly, had wished for Jimmy’s affections. She smiled when she realized it was a year ago. Time worked in slow, meandering cycles, especially if you lived multiple life spans in the service of God. Jimmy had made the right choice.
