Seth
Chapter 11: Searching

“Dammit, they have to be here!”

Jennifer swiped angrily at the scraggly brush that covered the far bank of the dry river bed. Despite the gloves and hiking boots, her skin stung where the thorns had managed to get through. Dry bits of leaves and grass burs clung to the cuffs of her jacket and jeans, and to her right the boy watched her solemnly.

They had set out from the house—after another hearty meal of pasta and biscuits with butter—over four hours ago, and the boy, despite his reassurances, was nearing his limit. They had paused in their search for the missing rocks to eat another batch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but that had been over an hour ago. Jennifer had barely nibbled a corner of her sandwich while the boy eagerly consumed his while seated beside her. Within minutes he had finished, and he sighed deeply, satisfied for the moment.

“You like those, don’t you?” She had been watching him as he ate, silently assessing him for signs of distress or fatigue. In all respects he still appeared healthy and fully functioning, but it was clear that he was going to need to replenish his energy more often and with increasing amounts of food.

I can’t wait a few days. I’m going to have to go into town and buy groceries first thing tomorrow morning.

In answer he turned and gave her a rare smile. Yes. They make me feel…full.

Before they had left the house she had taught him the word to describe when he was no longer hungry, which wasn’t all that often. There were crumbs and a small dab of jelly at the corner of his mouth, and coupled with the happy expression on his face, she couldn’t help but laugh.

He looked at her with those enormous eyes of his as if he didn’t understand.

She shook her head and pointed towards the corner of her own mouth. “You left a bit of your sandwich there.”

Again he looked at her quizzically.

“Here.” She leaned forward and gently wiped the crumbs away with the side of her thumb. He let her, all the while staring at her with such innocence and trust it made her heart clench in her chest.

She leaned back to inspect her handiwork. “There. All better now.”

His stomach gave an audible growl and he winced, clearly uncomfortable. Fear pinged through her and he glanced up at her as he sensed her unease.

She forced herself to appear calm. “Well, clearly three sandwiches isn’t enough for a growing boy like you.” She held out her sandwich, which had remained nearly uneaten. “Take it. I’m not that hungry.”

He looked from the sandwich to her. If he had read more into what she had said or realized that her actions didn’t match her emotions, he didn’t let on. Instead he tentatively reached for the sandwich, his small hand closing around it eagerly.

He sat back against the tree in which they were seated under and took a bite, then another. His eyes closed as he slowly chewed and swallowed the way she had taught him, and he sighed again as the hunger was—for the moment—abated.

Thank you.

That was another phrase she had taught him while she had buzzed around the kitchen making biscuits and setting the pasta to boil before they left on their little excursion. He had watched all of this with large, silent eyes, and when she had set the plates of food before him, he had made no move to touch them.

“Do you not want any? I could make you something else if you—”

He had shaken his head, his small features pinched in concentration. I was hungry and you made me full. You feel sad, yet you help me. You are… Again his features drew in as he struggled to find the right word.

You are Gammeh-te-rah, he said finally. He mimed holding a baby in his arms as he looked at her. I am not your son, but you help me and make me full like I am. You are Gammeh-te-rah.

“Mother.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she understood the implications of what he was saying. “I am like a mother to you.”

“…I’m S.A.D: Seth Allan Daniels, the luckiest boy in the world.”

“And why are you the luckiest boy in the world?”

“Because I have you for a mom.”

He nodded, his expression imploring. Mother. That is what you are to me. He gestured towards the table spread with the many plates of steaming food. It seemed like such a grand gesture coming from one so young.

I can never be your son and I can’t bring him back from where he’s gone. I can give you nothing, yet you have given me help, fullness.

“Yes, I have done that. Not only because you look like my son, but because I…. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. How many times had she prayed for the opportunity to hold Seth in her arms one last time? How many times had she tortured herself imagining what his final thoughts were as he’d lost his footing on the embankment? Did he see her face, her loving smile in his thoughts as he fell? Did he remember that she had told him she loved him before he left the house, or did he feel only a momentary panic before he impacted the ground and then nothing, oblivion?

“I love you.” She shook her head and it was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “I love you even though it makes no sense that I should. Even if you didn’t look like my son I would still feel the same way. For whatever reason you are here and you need my help to get back. I can’t explain why I love you or why I would do anything to protect you, but I do.”

“…That’s what love is—it’s beautiful and terrifying and it oftentimes doesn’t make sense....”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He considered her answer, and after another pointed glance at the plates spread out on the table, he placed both hands above his heart. Amantle.

“I don’t understand, what does ‘Amantle’ mean?”

He repeated the gesture, once again appearing much older beyond his apparent years. “Amantle” came the silent entreaty again.

Thank you. He is thanking me for the food and my help.

It all made perfect sense: the sincerity of his tone, however silent, the gesture of the hands over the heart, everything.

“Thank you,” she said aloud mimicking his gesture. “When someone does something for us that we are grateful for, we say ‘Thank you.’”

Thank you. His face broke out in a smile, filled with happiness. Amantle, Gammeh-te-rah.

She felt her own lips form a smile of their own. “You’re welcome.”

*******

“We’ll come back tomorrow.”

It was now late afternoon and already the light was rapidly fading from the surrounding sky. In less than two hours it would be too dark to see where they were going, and she regretted not having brought a flashlight with them. She had expected to find what they were looking for relatively quickly, but after five hours of poking around in the brush and grass, they had been rewarded with cuts, thorns, and none of the four missing rocks.

By now the boy was visibly weak and hungry, though he didn’t say anything. He had assisted when and how he could, but all he seemed to gain from his efforts were several deep scratches from nearby branches.

“I’ll have to clean those up when we get back home.” She had dabbed at the scratches with the corner of a clean napkin, but it did little to slow the blood trickling from them. The blood was a watery pink color rather than red, but that was to be expected she supposed. What was not expected was the way his skin reacted to being pierced by an exterior source. Already the innocuous-looking scratches were visibly swollen and the skin felt hot to the touch.

He had looked at her with those enormous eyes of his as she tried to hide her reaction, but she knew that he had sensed her alarm.

He’s getting weaker. He needs to eat more frequently, and what I’m giving him is not enough. Now he’s injured, and his body doesn’t know how to defend itself.

Yes, tomorrow.

He slipped his hand in hers and together they turned around and headed back towards the house.

We will find them tomorrow, and then I can go.

Her fingers tightened around his and she forced herself to relax. “Well, when we do I’ll make sure to pack you plenty of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for your trip home.” She knew that her tone sounded forced. A pain so acute it felt like dying whipped through her and it was all she could do to keep from giving into it.

You’re sad that I’m going? I’ll be gone, yes, but not dead.

She slowed her walk so that he could more easily keep up. She had managed to find an old pair of Seth’s shoes from a few years ago in the back of his closet, and they fit well enough that he could walk in them. The clothing was a bit of an issue, but after rolling up the cuffs of his pants and shirts, they were a tolerable fit. Ill-fitting clothing and shoes aside, the fact that the sound of his stomach growling was more than audible, and the skin on his injured hand felt feverish were of more pressing concern to her.

Please let him make it through the night. If we don’t find those rocks soon he’ll die, and I’ll never forgive myself. I can’t lose another child, and to lose him would be like losing Seth all over again.

“I’ll miss you, that’s true, but I’ll be happy that you’re going home. I’m sure that your own mother misses you and wants to see you again.”

He was silent while he considered her response. “My mother, my Gammeh-te-rah, is like your son.

“You mean that your mother is dead.”

He nodded.

She exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry.”

They continued to walk in a silence that was only now and then broken by the random twitter of a bird or a small animal scampering through the fallen leaves. She could see the stark silhouette of the fence that separated her and Tom’s property against the goldenrod splendor of the sky as the light gave way to approaching dusk. Tom and his friends had done a more than passable repair of the damage caused by the meteor’s trajectory, and from this vantage point, her house appeared toy-like and idyllic, a perfect miniature of reality.

A house is nothing more than boards, windows, and nails without love to make it a home.

“Tell me about your home, where you come from.”

They were now halfway across the pasture where the cows, having taken their customary evening drink from the concrete water trough, were now bedding down for the night. The warm, sour-sweet smell of methane from their gathered breath filled the air, anchoring this moment in her memory. They barely gave her and the boy any notice as she unlocked the heavy metal Priefert gate and swung it open to allow them to pass through to the spacious lawn bordering the house. A few lights burned inside as if awaiting their arrival, giving the house an open, inviting look.

It looks like a home again.

Never mind that Gerald was long gone to parts unknown and that her extended family called her with less and less frequency, no…this was home.

The breeze blowing in and amongst the trees was chilly and carried with it the sounds of the nighttime countryside. Why, one could even imagine that the leaves spoke to one another in sighs and whispers as they swayed and danced in the unseen currents buffeting them about. In the distance a family of coyotes lent their voices to the symphony of the horizon, and from the pasture the faint lowing of a cow added its own unique harmony.

Gazing up at the luminescent sky with its sprinkling of diamond-like stars, each one a universe unto itself, it became easy to believe in the possibility of anything, even second chances in the guise of extraordinary familiarity.

I wish I could show you my home. You’ve shared yours with me, yet I can give you nothing in return.

“Hey.” She stopped and gazed down at the boy. “You have given me something I never thought possible, a second chance with my son.” She knelt down and gently took him by the shoulders. He was shivering from the cold and from the fever that she knew was the result of the scratches he had received that afternoon. He was also very hungry and his face had a pinched, gaunt look to it.

She tried to smile reassuringly even if he couldn’t fully see it in the gathering dark. “Let’s get you inside, huh? I’ll heat up the leftovers from this afternoon, and for dessert I’ll make cookies. If you think peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are good, just wait until you try my oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.” She rubbed his shoulders to hopefully generate a little warmth and then straightened. She extended her hand and he took it, and as they turned to continue on to the house, the wind shifted and she could hear the faint, tinny strains of country music carrying from the direction of the driveway.

Squinting, she could just make out the dark yet unmistakable outline of Tom’s pickup truck as it sat idling right in front of her house. They would have to walk right past him to enter the house, and even from this angle he would see them if they tried to go in through the side entrance. The motion detector lights would click on, illuminating them if they got within ten feet of the house, and how would she be able to explain to Tom who the boy was? He had discovered Seth’s lifeless body lying in the dry riverbed, and there was no conceivable way to convince him that the resemblance was mere coincidence.

The boy followed her gaze to where the truck was parked and he slowly let go of her hand. I’ll hide.

“Yes, go wait for me in the barn. I’ll make some excuse and will go get you once he leaves.”

Without a word he turned and made his way slowly towards the barn. The temperature was dropping fast, and the clothing he wore wasn’t enough to keep him warm for long, especially in that drafty old barn with the vaulted ceiling.

Tom, what on Earth are you doing here? Last night’s dinner was lovely, but it was just dinner.

She set her face in a determined line and made her way towards the driveway.

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