Standing beside the bed with Wolf on my back, I held it out.
The old woman lifted her head and reached out weakly. Then she let her hand fall to the mattress beside her, and her head sank back onto her pillow. So I knelt beside the bed and held the glass to her lips. She drank deeply and when I startedto move the glass away, she put a hand over mine to hold it there longer and drank more.
Finally, she relaxed back. I told her I wasn’t whoever she was expecting, but she said we were exactly who she’d been expecting and asked me to show her the baby.
I was protective of Wolf, but I did not think this woman was a threat.
I slid the carrier from my shoulders, eased the baby out of it, and went to the edge of the bed to give the old woman a closer look. She was probably senile, and apparently all alone out here.
Then she said, “You’re the one. I had a vision you’d come.”
And when I looked skeptical, she told me when death is near, visions come strong. A white girl with a Comanche child from the river came to her in this vision. The girl told her she would care for her until her death in exchange for a safe place to raise the child.
I looked more closely at her face, my inborn skepticism rising. Mom got so mad when we all went to see a magic show, and I spent the whole time trying to explain how the magician did the tricks.
But the old woman knew he came from the river. How could that be? I asked her what else she knew. What would become of us, Wolf and me?
The old woman waved a hand. She said something like, “I only saw what I saw. You came. You stayed. It was good. Isn’t that enough for right now?”
I thought about it, certain the woman wasn’t up to anything nefarious, but also sure she was a little bit crazy. Still, this place is way better than our tent.
She frowned, then refilled the water glass herself, drank it down, and nodded. She offered to hold the baby and talk me through making us all some dinner.
So I placed the baby into her frail arms, noting that if she dropped him, he’d only roll onto her mattress and blankets.
Oh, the look that came into her brown eyes then was something else. Bliss, maybe. I haven’t really given a crap about another person for a long time, other than Wolf. Even before I left home… I loved my mom, but it always felt like I was loving her from behind an invisible wall. There was always this barrier between us. Between me and everyone. It was made by the secret I had to keep. I knew that much.
But there was no such barrier between me and my baby.
And as the old woman held him close, after he was warm and fed and content, something moved inside my heart. At that very moment, her old brown eyes shifted, took hold of mine and held, and held. She said all that happened to me had brought me there. And that this was a good place. Then she said her name was Sage.
I know it’s her chosen name, not her given one. I don’t know how I know it—I just do. I went through her cabinets and searched among the barrels where dried beans and grains were stored. Sage held the baby and called out instructions. Fetch in wood and kindle the fire. Take the bigger pitcher to the pump and bring back water to pour into the pot. Swing the arm, pot and all, over the fire and put the lid on to keep the ashes out. Then prepare the vegetables.
She had potatoes, carrots, and onions in bins or hanging from the ceiling in braids. I added beans and some of the barley. There’s a lot of food stashed in this place.
After the veggies and grains, I added herbs, plucking from bunches Sage pointed out, her namesake, and rosemary and thyme. She told me how to grate a turmeric root over the pot, then I ground black pepper right on top and gave the blend a stir. The most important ingredient, Sage told me, remained. But I’d have to go out back to get it.
I hesitated, unsure about leaving her alone with Wolf, but he seemed more content with her than I’d ever seen him. He was patting her face and babbling his life story. So I went out past the Wile E. Coyote rock. There were shaded beds in trenches two or more feet deep. Pots of greens lined them. They had pallets propped on either side, leaning against each other, forming a roof-shaped shelter over the plants, but looking like a pile of junk from a distance. The pallets were slatted, but they still reduced the amount of sun on the green leaves.
There were various types of greens in pots. I crawled along on hands and knees, using the plant shears Sage had lent me to snip a few leaves from each type of plant.
I filled the bowl, squished the contents down, and filled it again, repeating this until I couldn’t get any more in. Then, as instructed, I rinsed the greens at the well, shook them dry, brought them inside, and dumped them into the pot.
I stirred the stew, then went to take the baby from the old woman.
Her eyes met mine, and her smile stayed in place. She let me see how welcome we were and how happy she was to have us, and it felt so good. I can’t explain it.
Well, Wolf fell asleep in her arms.
She already looks far better than she did when we arrived at her doorstep. Maybe she was mostly just thirsty, hungry, and lonely.
Sage nodded toward a corner, where a burlap sack covered a shape.
I went over there and pulled the sack away. There was a wooden cradle with a still shrink-wrapped baby mattress inside, brand-new.
I was stunned and shot her my questions with my eyes.
I asked why she had the cradle, a little of my natural suspicion coming back.
