Apples of My Eye
" ... and your parents aren't home, and I don't wanna leave her with mine, and, uh ... Ketchy's waiting, and I kind of have to go," Adelaide blurted, suddenly handing their restless, squirming daughter over, putting her in the mouse's arms.
"Uh, um ... " Field blinked a few times, trying to keep Akira still. "Adelaide ... "
It was a mid-summer day, late-July, and the chirruping crickets were finally here, tuning up their violin-legs and hiding in the too-dry alfalfa. The months-long drought had made for crispy grass and weak crops and dried-up creek-beds. Had made for the handsome Eastern king-birds to sit extra-quietly on their barbed-wire fences. The cicadas, though, pretended not to notice, and were ascending (in number and sound), leaving their empty, amber skeletons clinging to the tree trunks.
Oh, it was that time of year when it was never hot enough, even when it was steamily so. ('Eighty-five degrees? I want ninety!') You wished there were auto races every day. You wished that corn-on-the-cob was a year-round food. You reveled in perfect cantaloupes, and you bid adieu to the lightning bugs (who were beginning to fully part). You made sure to look for the Big Dipper every night. You wanted to turn on the well-hose and lift it above your head and let the cold water fall on you. You wanted to sigh more than usual. You wanted to look your same old struggles in the eye and, Lord willing, leave them for good.
You were thankful.
Thankful.
Dear God, yes.
Yes to Your love and righteousness. That I, far less Your equal, am wanted, sculpted, thought into being with my very strands of fur numbered. That You know me better than I know myself. That I, in all my frailties, am enough for You. Oh, Creator, Maker, Artist, and Muse. The breeze, like Your breath, inspires me. The sun, like Your warmth, reassures me.
I am only an artist because I was made in Your image. You, the Artist, and me: Your art. I create because I was created. Oh, Creator, may I do You proud.
Oh, that meaning is inherent in my day-to-day, and that what I often perceive to be unwarranted struggle is merely a veiled form of joy. Struggle is like a stone. I do not rejoice in being saddled with a stone. But when the weeks, months, and years of friction turn that stone into a gem, I realize, humbly, that I was never saddled by anything but my own reluctance to follow, to listen, to serve. I was saddled by doubt. You planned the end result. The gem was meant to form all along. I doubted that it would be so. And for that, I am sorry. You planned my ends. And ends cannot be reached without means.
How dare I question omnipotence? How dare I try to lament the all-encompassing? How many times have I made a fool of myself under Your very eyes? And how many times have You been patient, waiting with open arms?
Oh, Planner, Architect, Maker.
I am constantly knowing better.
I am constantly growing.
I am constantly in Your debt. A debt You long-ago forgave. That You came and tore in two. That You came and gave me a choice: to go with You, to drop everything and follow. Or to try it on my own. Redemption awaits. By Your blood, I am bought for a price. Dear Jesus, I do my best to follow. Let me not be like the faint of heart who love You and leave You fast. Let me be strong enough to last. I do not wish to be like the ones who go it alone. Their path is an uncertain one. For they cannot know what awaits them. For they have no faith. They cannot know. They chase lesser forms of light.
But, in You, brightness exceeding the stars.
But, in You, the river of knowledge flows.
In You, I am comforted.
In You, I know.
Death has no hold on me.
For heaven awaits the weary traveler who heeds his Father's call.
Such things, right now, came to the Christian mind.
Such things, in these days, entered the mouse's consciousness. Such thoughts, such praises. Such vespers. Such gratitude. For summer, in spite of its flaws and its capacity for vicious bites, was the flowering of things.
This was life at full flower.
Oh, yes, it was a sensual time, a time of heightened sight and sound. Oh, yes, it was still summer. Still summer. As for the sky, it was a dried-out cornflower-blue, marked by wispy mare's-tail clouds. Cirrus clouds. The sun, meanwhile, was a golden, flaming ball closing in on the western horizon. And the moon a pale crescent further up, nearer the zenith. Visible even during the day. And, all around, a yearning, a sense of knowing: the peak of the year is past. It is a winding down, now, toward a fall. Into autumn, into winter. So we can start it all over again.
Anticipation. Oh, anticipation. There is only a looking forward.
" ... you close in half an hour, right?" the pink-furred bat asked him, looking around.
Field blinked, pulling himself out of his own thoughts. His mind was scurrying far too much today. "Uh ... "
"You close at 6," Adelaide said, answering her own question. "You always get home at 6:15." It was 5:30 on a Friday afternoon. There weren't many customers in the store (this country 'farm market'). Not at this time, anyway. And not that many wandering the orchard and vegetable patches, either. The orchard was actually closed. The apple crop wasn't as abundant this year, because of the drought. Yields were down. Jersey Macs had been picked clean a week ago. The next apple to be ready for picking was ginger-gold.
"Adelaide ... "
" ... well, Ezri said it was okay for me to leave her here. To leave Akira," the pink-furred bat continued. "So ... " A head-turn, giving a smile and a tiny wave to the brown-furred squirrel, who was rummaging through the pennies in the 'need a penny, leave a penny' bowl beside the cash register. The squirrel, happening to look up, smiled and waved back.
"Did she?" Field asked, whiskers twitching. He scrunched his face. His bare, silky-pink tail snaked about in the air behind him.
"Field ... darling. Honey-tail," Adelaide went. "You look delicious."
"Delicious?" was his shy, wispy reply, in that soft voice of his.
"Mm-hmm. Could eat you up." She reeled in his tail with her paws. "I would, too, only ... gotta go," she repeated. "Are you ... "
" ... fine. I'm fine. Really. Just, uh ... " A sigh. "Just a bit ... " Akira was still squirming, and he held to her, lightly bouncing her, trying to calm her down.
"I'll do it," Adelaide whispered, using her telepathy to ease their daughter. To relax her. "It'll wear off when I leave, though."
"I know," the mouse whispered.
"You don't like surprises. I know that. I just ... I wouldn't spring this on you if ... "
" ... it's alright," Field insisted, softly. But she was spot on: he was a very fastidious mouse, both in cleanliness and organization. Rather obsessive-compulsive. Not nearly as bad as he used to be. It'd been much worse before he'd met her. And, in the years since, he'd calmed and matured. But, still, you couldn't take the mousey-ness out of a mouse. There were certain compulsions and anxieties he just had to live with. Like his inability to react quickly to sudden changes-of-plan. Letting out a breath, he asked, "Is it a boy or a girl?"
"A boy. She had a boy," Adelaide said, of Rhine's baby. Rhine, the river otter, was family to Ketchy and Denali. "Ketchy's gonna go up there ... "
" ... to Logansport." That was fifty/sixty miles away, up north, on the banks of the Wabash and the Eel (the Kenapocomoco).
A nod. "Denali can't go. He's got work tomorrow. So, Ketchy and I are gonna visit, and, uh, stay the night, and ... cause the library's closed on Saturday. Except from 9 to 12, and the old lady furs work that slot."
"Wait, uh ... stay the night?" the mouse's eyes widened a bit. She hadn't told him that part. "Wait ... "
"Field ... "
" ... Adelaide," was his wispy insistence. His whiskers seemed to droop, even as they kept twitching, twitching. His tail stopped snaking. But just for a moment. It soon started up again. His ears swivelled atop his head. And his nose sniffed. It was as if his body were announcing, 'mousey motions are green, green, green,' as in giving him the green flag. Mousey motions at full speed, roaring down the front stretch of the day.
"Field, it's a long drive. There's no point in going up there, staying an hour or two, and then coming right back. It's ... Rhine gets out of the hospital tonight, and we're gonna help her and Orinoco. Gonna visit and stuff. Just 'til tomorrow evening. I'll be back tomorrow night."
The honey-tan mouse gave a weak, worried nod.
Adelaide smiled gently. The confident, cotton candy, carnation-colored bat. Her pink, the color of everything feminine and sweet. And those batty features that drove him ... well, that drove him batty (for lack of a better word). Batty in the best possible way, of course. "You gonna be okay?" she whispered, her short rudder-tail steering a bit. Her swept-back, angular ears, meant for such high pitches, focused on the little squeaky sounds he was making.
Another little nod.
"Just think of me, okay? I'll think of you," she told him.
"My paw's out of practice," he replied, lamely. As if this would convince the bat not to go. "I need you," he said. And his voice held such a yearning, such a vital want. The 'need' he spoke of was more than physical. More than lusty. And they both knew it. It went beyond words. It meant more than green fields and warm winds. It was God-given love. Oh, love. Oh, not a cliche. Oh, something ripe and real.
"I need you, too." One of the bat's deft, pink paws went to one of his cheeks, with her thumb errantly brushing his whiskers. "It's just a day." she told him, smiling. "I think we'll manage." She was referring to their breeding drives, of course. "Gotta go, okay? Love you." She leaned in for a light, loving lip-lock. And, pulling back, she told their daughter, "Behave for daddy, Akira."
"Adelaide," Field went, as the bat was turning to go.
"Mm?"
"Love you, too," the mouse whispered.
A pearly-white, fang-showing grin. "Don't worry, okay?" she said. And then she left. Ketchy was actually outside, in her (Ketchy's) car. They were eager to see Rhine's baby. Though Ketchy had confessed to Adelaide (earlier, in the library), that she was beginning to feel 'a little like the odd-fur out.'
"Why?" Adelaide had asked.
"You, Rhine ... just, you know," she went, trailing, her bushy, well-groomed tail arching prettily behind her. "All my friends have babies. I'm beginning to, uh ... becoming the only one who doesn't."
"Well, Ketchy ... "
" ... I don't know," was all she said, dismissing her own concern. "It's different for me. Rhine's husband could get her pregnant. Your husband got you pregnant. My husband ... can't," she whispered. "His seeds won't grow in me."
"That's totally not your fault. Stop putting yourself on a guilt trip."
"I know. I just ... can't help it." A whisker-twitch.
"It's an inter-species marriage," Adelaide continued, gently. "Squirrels and otters are ... well, not even in the same family. It's ... you knew that, you know? And there are other ways, now. Just pray about it. You love him. You love Denali."
"Dearly," was Ketchy's honest, solid agreement.
"So, it's ... "
" ... fine. It is. I just, uh ... never mind, you know?" the squirrel. But this issue had been on her mind for many months. And it was only weighing on her more heavily as time went by. She wanted children. She did, honestly. It was just the fear. She was afraid. I would probably be a bad parent. Maybe I don't really want a child. Maybe I'm just not thinking right. And, obviously, she and Denali weren't genetically compatible. She'd have to adopt (which would be a long, difficult process) or be artificially-inseminated (and she still hadn't garnered up the courage to ask Azure to donate his seed; she was somewhat scared of Assumpta, the snow leopard, who was Azure's wife). "You think you could pray for me, though ... I mean, not now, but ... "
Adelaide smiled warmly. "Course." A pause. "It'll be okay,' she assured her friend.
But Adelaide, in the present, got into the passenger side of the car, and she and Ketchy left for Cass County, talking and listening to some music along the way.
Field, still in the farm market, continued holding his daughter in his arms, adjusting her. "Put your wings round my ... no, round my neck. There we go," he soothed, putting his paws on her back. While her winged arms hugged round his neck, holding her in place.
"Field ... "
The mouse looked around. Realizing it was Ezri. And he padded back into the store (he'd been standing in the ware-house area, where the big garage-like door was open and looking out into the countryside).
"Cider slush," said the squirrel, as they drew near.
"Uh ... I don't know."
"Oh, come on. She'll love it." The squirrel left the cash register, going for a small, Styrofoam cup. "Everyone loves a cider slush."
"That's not what I mean. She'll like it, but ... " His whiskers twitched. "Remember that time we were tubbing candy? And you told me to try the maple nut treats?"
"Mm. Maple nut treats." Ezri's eyes glazed over. She was very fond of those. Peanuts dipped in a maple-flavored coating.
A sigh from him.
A few blinks, and a small, apologetic smile from her. "What about them, hmm? Maple nut treats? Seriously, Field ... "
" ... we kept trying them. Then we both ended up with sugar highs. They had to chase us, pin us down, and lock us in the cooler ... "
Ezri began giggle-chittering.
" ... 'til we stopped scurrying. It wasn't funny," Field insisted, giving a twitching frown. He didn't like losing control of himself in public. And rodents on sugar highs? Tended to lose control. He'd gone wide-eyed and extra-twitchy, scurrying in frenetic circles, squeaking in high, fervent pitches. He'd finally been brought down by a loping male cottontail.
"Hey, they're the ones that put two rodents in charge of the candy. They should've known better." A giggle-squeak. But it was true, though. Rodents were very energetic creatures, prone to twitching and scurrying and such. They couldn't handle too much sugar. Else they went from active to manic. And, usually, when the sugar high ended, you 'crashed.' "Anyway, we learned from that. No more overdosing on maple nut treats. But this is frozen cider, is all. Not that much sugar. You have one every day," she noted. Every worker at the market got free slushes.
"Akira's smaller than me." He set her down on the check-out counter, sitting her on the edge. Staying close to make sure she didn't try to get off. "Maybe her metabolism ... "
" ... sug-ah!" Akira chittered from the counter. "Sug-ah ... " She flapped her mauve-furred, winged arms. Flap-flap.
"Sugar. With an 'er'," Ezri corrected, her angular ears cocked. "Sugar."
"Sug-ah!"
Field, biting his lip, smiled slightly and noted, "Yeah, that's what grandma says when she's mad, isn't it, Akira?"
"Sug-ah!"
"Silly girl," Field told her, brushing her fur with his fingers. "You're a silly girl."
Ezri looked to him for an explanation.
"My mom's a New Englander. From, uh ... just outside of Boston. Her accent is especially pronounced when she's upset." A whisker-twitch, and a bit of a face. "She gets upset too often for my tastes. I love her, but we don't see eye-to-eye, sometimes," he whispered.
"What do you mean?" Ezri asked.
Field just waved a paw, lightly. "Doesn't matter. Anyway, when she gets upset, she goes ... "
" ... sug-ah," went Akira.
A nod from Field. "Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm ... " The mouse, sinking down to his knees, leaned in and nosed his daughter's cheek, lovingly nuzzling her. "Mm-hmm," he went again. "Grandma's gonna be glad you're repeating that, you know," Field added, teasingly. "You better not start saying that in front of her."
Akira gurgle-chittered, looking all innocent. And she tried to grab at Field's whiskers. Grabber-grab. Grab!
"You're not foolin' me, girl," Field insisted, turning his head. Trying to keep his whiskers free. They twitched, twitched, and he turned his head back to her, lifting his paws up to the counter, trying to tickle her sides. Tickle-tickle.
A squeaky-squeal of laughter. And, when her daddy stopped, she held out her winged arms and paws, gesturing for the cider slush Ezri had offered earlier. "Mine," she said, in her little, chittery voice. "Mine."
"A regular talker, isn't she?" Ezri noted, smiling. "Or more like: trying to talk herself into getting some cider. You want some, Akira?"
"Ezri ... "
" ... Field, she's not gonna fly away." A pause. "Is she?" was the serious question.
"Bats can't fly 'til puberty."
"Bet you can't wait for that," Ezri joked.
Field just scrunched his muzzle.
The squirrel, chittering, pulled the ice lever, filling the chosen cup with cider slush. And then she held it out to Akira. "Want some? Mm? Who's cute? Are you cute?"
"Ezri," Field said again.
" ... what? You're awfully defensive, you know, all of a sudden."
"Defensive?" A blink, with a whisker-twitch. "I am not."
"Are, too. Know what I think?" A sly smile. "Someone's not gettin' any tail tonight, and it's got him a bit down. Gonna have to use your paw."
His big ears turning rosy-pink, Field stammered, "Well, I ... I'm totally fine. Just ... that's not even ... "
" ... it's alright. You can admit it. I'm a fur. I understand. If Jinx were out of town for a night, I'd feel lonely, too."
Easing up a bit, the mouse admitted, "It's not merely 'getting tail.' It's making love. It's passion. It's presence. It's ... just having her around. I used to feel lonely all the time. I just ... I don't wanna be revisited by that." A pause. "And she's like my air, you know? When she's gone, I can't ... "
" ... breathe? Like you've become dependent on her."
"Well, I have," the mouse admitted, petting Akira, eyes going a bit distant. "You know, it's ... with bats, you know? The telepathy? It forms a unique bond." A pause. "It's really hard to explain."
"Symbiosis."
"Mm?" The mouse blinked.
"You two." She clasped her paws together, indicating 'one plus one equals two.' "You got a symbiosis going on."
A smile. "Sounds about right."
"Well, so do me and Jinx, you know. I mean, it's ... neither of us is telepathic, so it's not the exact same thing. But I can relate, you know. You shouldn't assume that others can't relate to your feelings."
"I know ... " He let out a breath. "You find any wheat pennies?"
"Mm-mm. None." A shake of the head. That's why she'd been fishing through the penny bowl. "You?"
"I found two wheat pennies and a Canadian penny."
"What? When?" was the demand.
"Yesterday, when I was doing the register. Saw them in the cash drawer, so I just exchanged some of the 'take a penny' pennies and kept those ones. I got fourteen wheat pennies, now. Earliest is from 1941."
"I only have seven. How many of the Canadian ones you got?"
"About half that. Eight? I don't know. I keep all the Indiana quarters, too. I got, like, sixteen of those. And those bi-centennial 1976 quarters? I mean, I don't even collect coins as in 'collecting' them. It's just ... I don't know anything about coins. I just keep the ones that look special to me."
"Well, if you think about the wheat pennies ... being in circulation for seventy years? And not getting lost or kept somewhere? Pretty impressive. Don't know why furs don't notice they have 'em when they do. They just give 'em up."
"A lot of furs miss details," Field offered. "Not just the ones on coins, either." He left it at that.
Ezri nodded, then finally turned her attention back to Akira, cooing at her, "You're a pretty little thing, aren't ya? Aren't ya? How pretty are you?"
"You don't have to talk like that, you know."
"This is my talking-to-little-kids voice," the squirrel explained, giving her the cider slush. "Here ya go. Yep, yep ... good, isn't it?"
Akira had her little paws around the cup, trying to drink from it.
"Let me help ya," Ezri said, tilting the cup for her.
"Don't give her too much," Field repeated. "I'll drink the rest of it."
The squirrel nodded, her bushy tail flagging a bit. "Eek ... customers coming. Better move her," Ezri suggested.
Field nodded a bit. "I'm gonna wander outside. If anyone needs ferried to the corn or anything, uh ... give me a squeak?"
"Will do."
Field took the cider cup from his daughter. And used his free paw and arm to lift her up. A squeaky sound. "Up, up ... up you go. Come on. Grab on." And, with his daughter latched around his neck, he moved out of the store and through the warehouse, to the outdoors. The sun was a bit bright, still. A bit hot. This was active hummingbird weather. They would be lapping up the nectar today, for sure. The mouse squinted heavily. He had blue-grey eyes. Blue eyes being the most sensitive to light, and the mouse being an extra-sensitive creature all around, he wished he'd brought his hat. But it was over in the Gator (the John Deere four-wheeler he used to get here; he lived only a mile away). And, as they walked, the mouse realized, "You're gonna have to ride the Gator home with me. Mm. Don't know how, uh ... safe that is. I'll drive real slow," he promised. "You'll have to sit in my lap."
Akira didn't seem to be listening. She kept wriggling, trying to grab the slush-cup.
"No more. No more for mouse-bats. And you are a mouse-bat," he insisted. "Say it with me. I am a mouse-bat."
"Mouze-bats. Da ... a mouze-bats."
"No, daddy's a mouse. Pure-bred field mouse. You're half-mouse, half-bat. Mouse-bat. Now ... no, you don't need more cider. Akira ... "
"Mine!"
"No, it's mine," Field said calmly.
"Mine," she repeated.
"You're not being very lady-like, Akira. Being a half-mouse, you're supposed to have finesse. Mouses have finesse. Finesse doesn't mean shouting 'mine' when you want something, mm? It means being polite and diplomatic. Now, if you wanna try and be real cute and flatter me for it? Well, maybe I'd give you the cup then, but ... "
"Mm ... da," she went.
A smile. "You're not gettin' it. Mm. Mm, this is good," Field went, taking a few sips of the slush. It was good, really. And cold, with a snappy bite. The apple tartness. "Mm." He smacked his lips for show.
"Da!"
"All gone. All gone," the mouse said, turning the empty cup upside down. "No, don't pout. I'm your father. I think I know how much sugar you can handle. I've seen you on sugar highs before, so don't think I'm lettin' you get on one when mommy's not hear to telepathically reign you in."
"No," was the squeaky spout.
"Yes."
"No."
"Akira, you're not even two years old. You're not gonna win," Field told her, smiling, bobbing her up and down in his grasp. "Whee, whee," he went.
Akira, holding on, chittered. Chitter-chitter.
Field stopped bobbing her, sighing. He looked around.
"Ahh-pulls."
"Those are apples, yes. They're not ripe yet. They're sour. No good for eating. Doesn't stop the Russians from picking them, though," he added. "They pick everything before it's ready. And I know they know it's not ready, too. So, I don't get it ... "
"Ahh-pulls."
"Apples."
"Ahh ... "
" ... pulls. Apples."
"Mine!"
"No, you can't have any apples. They're not ready. Anyway, those ones? See those ones?" He pointed to the nearest trees, as they were at the front of the orchard. "Ginger-gold. Can you say ginger-gold?"
"Ginner-goal," was her mis-pronounced attempt.
"Close enough." A smile. "But those are yellow and green. You'd like red apples. You know what daddy likes?"
"Ahh-pulls."
"I know, but what kind?"
"Ginner-goal."
A giggle-squeak. "No. How 'bout gala? Gala apples? Can you say gala?"
"Galla."
"Not as heavy on the 'L'-sounds, but ... mm-hmm. I know what you like, though. You like sweet corn. Daddy likes sweet corn."
"Onna cob."
"Corn on the cob. Mm." A nod, still carrying his daughter as he casually walked about behind the store. The orchard to his front. And the vegetable patches a little walk to the side of it all. "We got teeth for corn on the cob, don't we?" Being a mouse, Field had noticeable buckteeth. Adelaide didn't have buckteeth, but she had those fangs. Akira had both, though neither were as pronounced as they were on her parents. "Corn cobs are good for gnawin'," Field said. "Mm." A pause. "You know, I should really pick some. Twenty cents an ear, and ... I got a few dollars in my wallet. Mm. Wanna go pick some corn?"
"Corn," was all Akira said.
"Well, it's, uh ... what time is it." The mouse padded, in his bare foot-paws, back to the warehouse, squinting to see the clock inside. "Ten minutes 'til closing. No one will have time to go out and pick, so ... we shouldn't be needed," he guessed. "We'll walk. We'll need a bag, though." He grabbed a white, plastic bag, and they set off for the patch of white sweet corn. Field saying, "Who's my little mouse-bat, mm? My little baby girl? Who do I love?"
"Mouze-bats."
"Yes, but who? Who? Is it you?" He nuzzled his nose to her, breathing softly. "Is it you?" he whispered. "How much do I love you?"
"Da," Akira was all she said.
"Lots," Field answered. "Mm-hmm. Love you lots. And I'm never gonna stop, y'hear? You and mommy, you're the apples of my eye," he told her. Which was only appropriate to say, what with them being around an apple orchard. "The apples of my eye," he repeated, very quietly, planting a kiss to the side of her head.
A giggle-chitter from her. Chittery!
And the mouse sighed and smiled, hugging her closer as they continued their walk. He did miss Adelaide. Even if she'd only be gone a day, he was missing her already. Maybe that was cheesy. But it was the truth. But he saw so much of her in his daughter. Akira was, after all, a product of their love. "Love you," Field told his child. "Alright?"
Chittery!
Field smiled. "Alright," he whispered. "Oop, here's the corn. We almost walked past it. Now, you tell me which ones to pick. Just make sure they're big ones. We want juicy ears," he said.
"Earz!" Akira chittered, grabbing at her daddy's ear.
"Heh ... eh, Akira, let's not do that." Field carefully tried to extract her paws from his ears. She was gripping the edges of them. "Those are very sensitive. Be careful with those." He finally got her paws off. "And that's not what I meant, silly. I meant ears of corn, not mouse ears."
"Earz!"
"Corn has ears, yes."
"No."
"Mm-hmm. Yes, ma'am."
"No ... "
" ... they do, indeed. Ears of corn. Wouldn't daddy know?" A smile, giggle-squeaking. "Just point to the ones you think I should pick. I'll tell you if they're ready or not ... "
So, Akira pointed her mauve-furred, winged arms, not really knowing which ears were good. But Field let her believe she knew what she was doing. And, together, father and daughter picked some corn for their supper, basking in the late-day summer sun. And enjoying each other's love and company.