Darkness upon the Land

Roily storm clouds made an appearance late Thursday afternoon, so Reuben and Alexia hurried out to get the evening chores done early. He immediately noticed the mucous strand under Jinx’s tail, which was one sign she could have her kids by morning. It figured. He locked the doe up in the second horse stall and hauled water in for her before bringing Bliss into the milking parlor. Rain began pounding on the roof overhead as the brown goat jumped up on the stanchion and began eating the mix of corn, oats, barley and cut clover.

They had been mixing increasing amounts of fresh forage in with the grain for several days. Luckily Liana had a small clover and native grass pasture she used for hay, so he figured they would be able to get by once the store-bought feed ran out. Milk production would probably drop, but with two goats lactating he doubted it would be missed much.

He set the bucket under Bliss after washing off her udder, and leaned his head against her side as he began milking. The drumming of the rain on the roof and the ring of milk hitting the inside of the pail were almost hypnotic in their unison. He liked milking. Even at home, where before the solar burst it was accomplished with machines equipped with sucking nozzles, he’d enjoyed the one-on-one interaction with their Jersey cows.

Home. Reuben drew a slow, deep breath as he felt Bliss’s side rise and fall rhythmically under his head. Every time he thought of home, he prayed for his family’s safety.

Jinx launched into another tirade of bleating from her stall at the other end of the building. As he finished squeezing out the last few drops of milk, Alexia stepped into the parlor. Her blue rain suit was still dripping as he pulled the bucket into his lap.

“I see you locked up Jinx,” she announced in Cajun as she pulled back the coat’s hood. “Is it time?”

“Tonight’s the night.” He stood and stepped over to the sink where a half-gallon jar was set with the strainer in place. “I think all of us are relieved. That poor goat looks like she’s ready to split open.”

“I’ll get the bottles ready. Maybe if we’re lucky she will have them before dark.”

“Or she may decide to have a whole litter and keep us up all night.” He began pouring the milk into the strainer. “Would you let Bliss out, please?”

She almost chortled. “Into this rain? It’s going to be more like throwing her out.”

After they informed Liana about the impending caprine parturition, Reuben slogged through the rain back out to the barn. There were a mere handful of hay bales left in the storage room, and he cut the twine on one of them with the old skinning knife that always hung nearby on the wall. He carried a flake out to Jinx and also gave one to Elsie, who had come in from the storm as well and would feel slighted if she didn’t get anything.

Alexia showed up in a few minutes with the “birthing box,” a plastic crate outfitted with baby bottles, a soapy washcloth, a lidded jar, a container of iodine and a stained but washed towel.

“Naturally she decides to kid in a storm,” she commented as she pushed back the hood of her coat. “At least it’s not getting as cold as it did that night in the swamp.”

He was scratching Jinx while assessing how the goat’s labor was progressing, and her comment immediately reminded him of the impertinent impulse he had felt that following morning. Now why did he have to remember that? Reuben supposed that under the circumstances they had been thrust into, his new interdependence with her might encourage a reassessment of their relationship.

But that would involve denying an awful lot of reality. He still planned to leave after Liana recovered. Both of them were too young, anyway. And besides, after what her mom told him once she regained consciousness, he knew for a fact Alexia could never fit into his plans for a family.

Once he got married, he wanted to have kids. This desire was based on more than just delivering his DNA to the next generation. He understood that parenthood was fraught with challenges and sacrifices, and these helped to more deeply cultivate one’s relationship with God. It was participating in the continuing act of creation, but more so the bond shared among husband-wife-children reflected the depths of love and mercy offered to all of humanity.

Through no fault of her own, even if Alexia could have children, she shouldn’t. And as much as he wished her happiness and success throughout her life, he could no longer be a part of it once he left Louisiana.

The storm showed little inclination of ending soon, so Alexia was glad Mѐre insisted she would be fine by herself if both of them camped out in the barn. One at a time was plenty for monitoring Jinx, but this way the watch could be completed in shifts without them having to take turns sloshing back and forth through the pouring rain. Although the doe most likely wouldn’t need any assistance – she was three years old and this was her second kidding – they wanted to be able to feed the newborns immediately on the bottles because it was easier than switching after they’d nursed naturally. And besides, the aspect of farming she enjoyed most was being on hand for the arrival of the babies.

Kindling rabbits and hatching poultry were more clandestine than kidding goats, but throughout her life she was intrigued by the emergence of new life. Not only were the majority of babies cute, they were so filled with innocence and dependence she was drawn to wanting to insure they were given the best opportunity for life.

As she grew up, her ideas changed about how she wanted to fulfill this desire. Her history with her stepfather quashed earlier notions of the direct route of being wife and mother. Then a few years ago she learned about nuns who worked in underdeveloped communities and helped the children. That situation seemed ideal – no man would get underfoot. Her mom seemed to like that idea to some extent, although she preferred for her daughter to remain in the States as opposed to traveling abroad.

She’d always had to remain close to home because of her dietary restrictions, however, so Alexia savored the idea of finally getting to see more of the world, even if it was just in this country. She’d never stood on top of a mountain or shuffled through snow or sifted pebbles from the desert through her fingers. Even just the United States offered a whole range of environments, and she intended to somehow, eventually, escape this corner of the state and finally see that diversity with her own eyes.

But then the outbursts began, and that idea became more of a pipedream. And now the solar outburst had thrown everything out of whack. Where did she think she was going to go in a society that had gone back to three miles an hour?

Yet Reuben was still determined to make the eight-hundred mile trek back to his home even if he had to walk every step of the way. Well, if anybody could make it, it would be him.

She looked up from the birthing box she had been idly reorganizing in the dim light of the rainy evening. They were sitting in the vestibule between the stalls and the storage room. After supper, when they’d returned to the barn, he brought the sharpening stone as well as some bedding out with him. She watched for a few seconds while he honed the knife they kept near the hay.

Was the world really going to be any safer in a few more weeks, after Mѐre recovered? At least she and her mom had the community of the parish to help them out. Once Reuben hit the road, he would have only his skills and his faith to sustain him.

Those few years ago when they started getting to know each other, his adherence to his faith quickly baffled her. She had never heard of the Noachide belief before they met, and like most people mistakenly thought he was a semi-observant Jew before he set her straight. On the flip side, he knew very little about Catholicism, so they’d shared the tenets of each other’s religions, even though she came to realize that growing up in a faith didn’t automatically make one an expert in it. His erudition was the result of all those hours spent in studies instead of the frivolous pursuits cherished by his peers.

That had been another factor she’d found annoying, but not enough to motivate her to begin her own investigation. With the veneer of civilization becoming more tenuous, however, she started thinking more about what her belief entailed.

“Do you find yourself praying more than you used to?” The impulsive question sprang from her lips as she considered her own situation.

He stopped sharpening the knife and regarded her for a couple of seconds before replying. “That’s the interesting thing about struggle. It actually draws us closer to God than when we’re all happy and content.”

“That was your long way of saying yes?”

He smirked. “Should I have made it longer?”

“The thing is, in spite of what you said, there seems to be a lot of people acting even worse.”

“Well, yeah, if you have no relationship to begin with, there is no struggle when times get tough. You just look out for yourself and maybe the people who are convenient to you. Sometimes, when folks hit bottom hard enough, they find that relationship. And that’s when the struggle really begins.”

“It doesn’t seem right, somehow. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if something like that wasn’t so hard? Jesus said His burden was supposed to be light.” She smiled briefly. “Although I don’t know how much you can relate to what He said.”

“Most of it is echoed from the Tanakh.” He resumed honing the knife.

Every time he used that title, she had to reprocess it in her head as Old Testament. “I know it’s the way you grew up, but haven’t you ever wondered? Doesn’t it seem that one of us would have to be right and the other would have to be wrong?”

He stroked the blade several more times against the stone before replying. “We have a saying that the righteous of all nations will inherit the Kingdom of Heaven. What ultimately matters is that God knows our hearts. As long as we love Him, as long as we serve Him, as long as we obey Him and fulfill the basic requirements that apply to every human being, we all have a shot at that inheritance.”

Well, that probably explained why he had always been respectful during their dialogues. “So why would God cause a disaster like this? Like any of the catastrophes that have killed lots of innocent people?”

“I could talk about our broken world again, but I think this time we ought to consider our participation in it.” He lightly flicked his fingertips against the edge of the blade. “Let’s look at tonight. A storm is raging outside, but it’s so peaceful in here. Outside there’s the potential for destruction. Inside we’re ready to welcome new life. That raging, destructive storm, however, is giving us peace in our time, if only for a few hours. Nobody’s going to come after us in this deluge. The horrible, traumatic tribulations going on now are mostly brought on by ourselves, but consider the good that can be brought from it.”

“What good?”

He looked up from the knife. “I’m not sure. But I’ll enjoy the peace we have now, and I hope to see the good that will eventually come from an event like this.”

In the wee hours of the morning, with a frugally used oil lamp providing their only light, Jinx delivered two great big baby bucks. The first one was flashy, with a red and white splotched coat and a black dorsal stripe. The second was almost silver, his black coat tipped with white. Reuben immediately dubbed them with the monikers Flash and Dash.

As the doe licked all over the newborns and continually uttered maternal bleats over them that were short and soft, the rain did come to an end. And their vigilance to stark reality returned.