She watched the dandelion bloom drift away on the quickly escalating winds. Such a symbol of peace in a time of destruction. She wondered at it as the thunder pulsated through her chest and the skies grew deathly dark.
Closer and closer the path of demolition came as trees within her sight began to be ripped from their deeply-rooted foundations and wooden homes exploded on contact. The tall grasses that had swayed in the October breeze yesterday now lay prostrate, surrendering to the rush of the gale, and the ravens dashed amidst the still-standing trees as chaos dictated their every move.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard a scream. It was the faintest sound, but it contained enough power to reach inside her gut and twist her insides, making her gasp for air and clutch the rough post she leaned against.
Mason.
The fear that had gripped her only a moment ago now drained out of her like fluid, replaced by a single-minded determination that only a mother can ever know.
“Mason! I’m coming, darling! I’m coming!”
Adrenaline balled up in her thighs and thrust her forward, sending her into a sprint carrying her east. Lightning shredded the sky in a rapid-fire show of sparks, electricity, and detonations, but her ears and eyes were veiled to everything but the path in front of her and the wails of her infant son. Roots tangled with her feet and threw her to the ground. The rain grew thicker and louder and stung as it soaked her bare arms. A heavy branch snapped and crashed to the earth, scraping the left side of her face and jabbing her eye. But she felt no pain, encountered no obstruction, started at no sound.
Her child was near.
“Mason! Mason, call to me! I’m here!” No cries came.
“Darling, help me find you! Cry, child. Cry!”
Only thunder and rain.
Then a shriek.
She turned north and clambered past fallen trees and abandoned fire pits and rusted plows toward the sound. Her heart pounded against her chest like heavy fists on a weathered door, demanding relief—but she would have none of that.
In a moment, she burst out into an open field, obscured by gray rain and winds that manipulated the grasses until she could hardly focus. “Mason!” Nothing met her eyes. “Mason!” she howled and sank to her knees. Mud soaked deep into her pale cotton gown and chilled her from below as the torrents chilled her from above. Hot tears pooled in her eyes and streaked down her face, blending with the frozen rains as she realized her mistake.
Mason was gone. She’d never have him back.
She inhaled deeply and let out a long scream. “No!” Her trembling white hands stretched into the nothingness as far as they would go, grasping for just a brush against his tender skin. “Not my baby!” Her sobs mixed in with a clap of thunder and she turned her face to the sky. “Curse you, you wretched storm! You took my child from me! If the heavens declare the glory of God, He must glory in the devastation of mothers and the deaths of innocent children! Curse you, curse you, God Almighty!”
Her shouts sucked the remaining bit of energy she had, and she collapsed to the wet ground, letting the last of her tears empty from her eyes. With her cheek pressed into the grass, she gazed out over the weather-torn meadow and yet saw nothing. Nothing but her sorrow. Nothing but Mason’s cold, dead, angelic face as he lay on the riverbank where he had washed up on that stormy day three months ago.
She was so vacant that she barely noticed the flicker of movement appearing at the other end of the field.
A form, barely silhouetted in the sheets of rain, stepped out of the woods opposite her. The distance was so great that she strained her eyes to make out the shape. As it came closer, it took the form of a man, though black or white or brown she couldn’t tell. Probably a neighbor, she thought and gave herself up to exhaustion. Her eyes closed, shutting out the unfamiliar figure and the all-too-familiar sight of the storm-ridden landscape.
A sound floated to her. A sound like a baby’s laugh.
It is only God, trying to mock me, she bitterly thought.
The sound came again. Louder this time, and undeniably her son’s.
Her eyes snapped open and her head lifted from the ground, scanning the meadow for any sign of Mason. She only saw that same man, though he had crossed much ground and now stood in the middle of the field.
She had never seen anyone like him. He stepped slowly in the pouring rains and yet seemed to be completely dry. Waves of brown hair stretched down to his waist, dangling against the brown coat that masked his dark pants. His face was beautiful; his carved, narrow jaws unusually lacked a beard and showed smooth white skin. The irises of his eyes were clear blue, as crystalline as freshly formed icicles off her cabin porch. He walked slightly stooped and held onto something hanging over his shoulders, as if he were toting a sack of grain.
He paused to look at her. He didn’t make a move to help her or to voice any concern. He only watched her with firmly-set lips and inscrutable eyes.
And then he turned to the side.
Hanging on to his back was a little boy, four years old or so by his size, tousled black hair falling in his eyes and making him blink furiously. That set him to laughing, and he pulled himself up higher on the man’s back and put his chin on the man’s shoulder so the man could better hear his giggles. The boy turned his brown eyes to the sky and let out a wolf howl. Then he turned them toward her.
Mason.
“Mason!” the desperate mother called. Joy and confusion and relief were all afoot in her mind as she watched her son hang on to this strange man’s back.
He looked her straight in the eyes and smiled his lovely smile. She had lost him when he was seven months old; now, with a few years under his belt, she could see the striking resemblance he had to his father with his straight nose, square jaw, and round eyes.
But she could see in him her heart shining back at her.
He smiled at her but made no effort to come closer. Somehow she knew he loved her, and yet . . . he was happy where he was. With that man. He was no longer hers. She realized then that he never had been. He was his own. However the two had transcended realms, it was for the sole purpose of reassuring her that Mason was all right. And perhaps that she would be too.
She placed both hands over her mouth and kissed them, then pressed them to her heart as she held her son’s eyes. He grinned wider, hopped down off the man’s shoulders, and repeated her motions back to her. Then at the beckon of the man he stood by, he took his hand and turned away from her. The two walked back toward the woods which they came from, not looking back.
The young mother watched until she could watch no more and then turned her eyes toward the dismal sky. No words would come to her mind or mouth; only tears that had long been buried inside her now flooded from deep inside her. She clutched her middle and let it all come.
“Eva!”
Her husband had come after her.
“Eva!” He madly pushed out of the brush and slid to his knees beside her. Seeing her ashen face, he gathered her close to him and held her firmly. When the tears finally ceased, he released her and peered into her eyes. “What are you doing out here, love?” he gently asked.
Eva gazed back at him and grabbed onto the edges of his coat collar. “Paul, I saw him.”
“Saw who?”
“Mason. I saw our little Mason.”
Paul’s round eyes saddened as they searched hers, and he sighed. “Oh, Eva. Mason is gone. Remember? He—”
“He came back to tell me—to tell us—that he was all right. He’s so beautiful, Paul; he looks so much like you—”
Paul moaned. “Don’t do this . . .”
Eva went on. “—and he’s got my smile. Dear, I’m finally able to let him go. I think I’ve finally forgiven God for taking him because . . . He didn’t take him. It was the darkness of this world that we as humans have chosen. I see that now. God had nothing to do with it. But our baby’s safe now. We can rest.”
Paul let out a weary breath while keeping his eyes on hers. He was silent for a long while. Then he spoke. “All right.”
Eva cupped his face with her muddy fingers. “You believe me?”
“Something has healed you; I know that I’ve tried, and your parents have tried, and you yourself have tried. But nothing has worked until now. I believe you.”
“Oh, Paul!”
He stood up under the heavy rain and offered her his hand. She took it for the first time in three months. Together they made their way home.