Puddlejumpers (2 page)

The forked stick suddenly took on a life of its own, lifting to the sky and vibrating with a deep resonant hum. With both Jumpers hanging on for their lives, it wove back and forth across the dome of stars, searching for a destination. Wedged between the two short ends of the Y-shaped stick was an acorn. It wasn't an ordinary acorn, brown with a snug cap—this was an ice-blue crystal acorn.

When the stick finally locked on to the Big Dipper, the Acorn shimmered with a piercing white light. Root and Runnel shared a frightened look just before the stick lurched across the forest floor, dragging them behind, their toes barely skimming the ground. The bright glow of the Acorn helped light the way as they galloped headlong through the oak and pine, sending rabbits and field mice scurrying in their wake.

The Acorn stick led the Puddlejumpers out of the forest and down the slope of a muddy field. They slipped and slid over a crop of newly sprouted wheat, then skittered past a corral, barn, and silo nestled in a copse of elm and willow trees. They spun to a stop in front of a one-story farmhouse, its porch brushed silver in the moonlight. All was quiet, except for the pattering rain and a cow mooing from the barn, until a woman's piercing cry shattered the night. The Jumpers wanted to flee back to the sanctuary of their puddle, but knew they couldn't.

Pitch, the old black-and-white border collie asleep on the porch, lifted her nose to sniff, but the Puddlejumpers were already around back, jumping up and down trying to see through a lit window. Root caught hold of the sill and clambered onto the ledge. He offered Runnel his hand, and quicker than a twinkling, she was beside him.

Breathing hard, they pressed their noses against the windowpane, fogging the glass. They had to wipe away their breath before they could see inside. In that moment they knew the Crystal Acorn had delivered them at the perfectly perfect time. Before their eyes a miracle was taking place. A human baby was being born. A boy.

A cloud burst and the rain began to fall in torrents. Blinking back tears, Root and Runnel warbled so joyfully that animals in the neighboring fields paused to listen.

The Puddlejumpers had found their Rainmaker.

CHAPTER THREE

The Prophecy

O
LD
D
OC
T
HORPE
, lanky with dark eyes in a long, thin face, knew the mother was in trouble. He gave the newborn to Clara Bonnell, the chubby midwife who'd delivered almost as many babies as he had. The baby was wet and kicking and crying with life, but his mother lay still as stone. Dolores had lost too much blood giving birth, and now Doc Thorpe saw that she was slipping away. Clara made the call to 911, but the ambulance in West Branch would take close to an hour to reach the house. Doc felt for her pulse. There was none, so he started CPR, filling Dolores' lungs with air, then pushing on her chest multiple times. Russ Frazier, lean and ruggedly handsome, his face tanned from a life spent working in his fields, watched from the foot of the bed in shocked silence. Doc did everything he could to bring her back, but knew in his heart she was already gone. He just didn't know how to stop trying.

After several minutes, Doc and Clara shared a look of sorrow as Russ sank to his knees beside the bed. He gazed in disbelief at his beloved wife, her expression peaceful. He gently brushed the damp hair from her forehead, then took her hand and pressed it to his lips. And although he could hear Doc Thorpe's voice behind him—“I'm so sorry, Russ”—he couldn't answer, as if time itself had stopped.

In Russ' mind, it was that blustery autumn afternoon when he and Dolores walked along the Warbling River. She was thirteen and he was fifteen. He told her that he was going to marry her someday. She laughed, but let him hold her hand.

The memory made his heart ache from the inside out, and now the tears came.

An hour later, Russ felt Doc's hand on his shoulder.

“I have to be getting on, Russ,” said Doc. “Agnes Goetz has come down with pneumonia and I've got to look in on her.”

Doc didn't expect Russ to get up, but he did. They'd been good friends for many years, despite their age difference. In fact, Doc was the very man who'd brought Russ into the world thirty-one years before.

Russ led Doc through the kitchen to the back porch, where they embraced. “I'll call Floyd and make the arrangements,” said Doc somberly. “He should be here within the hour. Clara, she'll stay the night.”

Numb to the world, Russ nodded, barely hearing the baby's wail from the bedroom. Doc opened the screen door. What they saw next surprised both men. Dangling from the eaves was a curious mobile: seven handcrafted wooden elves surrounding a finely cut, ice-blue crystal acorn. The carvings were precise and vivid, each face alive with expression. The Acorn itself was cradled in a woolen harness decorated with an oak tree insignia.

Doc gently tugged the harness and the elves began to dance around the Acorn. The men were so mesmerized, neither one noticed that the baby had stopped crying. It was quiet again, except for the rain and Doc's subdued voice. “Looks like Charlie Woodruff's work. God bless him, he carved a beaut for your little one.” The Acorn refracted the porch light into a million tiny rainbows that swirled across their faces. “I knew he was carving, but nothing like this,” said Doc. “What's that acorn—crystal?”

“Looks to be,” said Russ.

Doc tapped it with a finger. “Hard as a diamond.”

Blinking back tears, Russ unfastened the mobile from its perch. The elder man squeezed his friend's shoulder. “I'll stop by in the morning.”

Russ watched Doc open his umbrella and, dodging puddles, hustle to his old sedan. Pitch was chasing in circles as if she'd caught a scent, but when she saw Doc she gave up her search and went over to lick his hand. He gave the dog a scratch behind the ears. “Hey, girl—you take care of Russ now, hear me?”

Pitch wagged her tail and started back to the porch. Doc settled into his car, then, with a last wave to Russ, motored up the drive.

Russ watched the sedan's taillights disappear in the rain. Normally he loved the rain. To a farmer, rain meant nourishment, growth, even life itself. But not tonight. Tonight it was only dark and wet and dreary.

Russ called to Pitch, “C'mon, girl, let's go.” He wanted her inside tonight. He thought he might find some comfort hearing her familiar breathing as she slept at the foot of his bed. He held the mobile up to the light and felt overwhelmed.
Dolores would have loved a gift like this.
Brushing away tears, he carried it into the house.

Near the corral, beyond the reach of the porch light, Root and Runnel sighed with relief. They'd accomplished everything they'd set out to do. The Crystal Acorn was exactly where it belonged—inside, with the human baby.

When the porch light went out, they climbed to the top of a fence post and stared at the house, burdened by the enormous task before them. As a rule, Puddlejumpers stayed away from humans, and Root and Runnel were no exception. In fact, if you asked them, they would tell you that they were just two very ordinary and unremarkable Puddlejumpers who were now faced with the awesome responsibility of watching over the Rainmaker.

Now everything was up to them, for the ancient prophecy had begun.

On the first night of spring he will take his first breath,

beneath the Big Dipper, finding life where there's death.

We will call him Wawaywo, our Rainmaker son,

and keep him with us till the last battle is won.

CHAPTER FOUR

Keeping Watch

T
HE WHOLE NEXT MORNING
, Root and Runnel spied through a knothole in the side of the barn. They were deathly afraid of the humans and terrified of being caught. Just when they finally made the decision to cross the yard, humans with sad faces began to arrive with platters of food.

“Wataka mala-ki, Wawaywo,”
said Root.

“Mabaa-way,”
agreed Runnel. They needed to get to the baby.

The Jumpers spent the rest of the day discussing their predicament under a big black-and-white cow. The more they talked, the more nervous they got. The more nervous they got, the more milk they drank. Before long, they were fast asleep in the hay.

In the evening, after everyone had left, the Puddlejumpers finally stirred from their nest and made their way across the yard. They climbed the trellis to the roof and settled inside the rain gutter. Peering down, they could see the father at the kitchen table with the baby in his arms. He was laughing and crying at the same time, which seemed strange to them, even for a human. They watched intently as the chubby one came into the room, took the baby, and disappeared down the hall.

They scampered up the shingles to the crest of the roof, then down to another window, but the curtains were drawn and they couldn't see a thing. When the Rainmaker started to cry, they knew they'd have to go inside.

It was probably a good thing that Russ had the baby to look after, otherwise he might have just given up. All he did was sit in the rocker by the crib, give the baby his bottle, and rock him when he cried. It was a painful sight for anybody who knew him. Russ Frazier was a man of contagious laughter and boundless optimism. If you needed help, he was the first person you called. If you were feeling down, he'd sit at your kitchen table till you felt better. When your glass was half empty, he was the one who filled it.

Now he was the one in need, and neighbors came streaming over with food and clothes and diapers and toys. The baby lacked for nothing, except what he needed most, his mother.

Betty Woodruff was a quiet comfort to Russ. She and her husband, Charlie, lived one farm over from the Fraziers', and the families had been close all through the years. In fact, Betty and Russ had gone through high school together. Now she was pregnant, but that didn't stop her from bringing over a home-cooked meal just about every night.

The Goetz family did most of the farm chores. Emil and Elsie, with the help of their son Neal, irrigated the wheat, milked the cows, collected the eggs, and took care of the pigs and horses. Together, they helped keep the farm on its feet. That's how it was in Circle, people helping each other without expecting any favors in return.