Under The Dancing Tree

"Will it hurt her," I asked.

"A little. But I think it saved her life and she should be grateful she's got such a skilled surgeon for a father."

"Jeez doc, you'd a done much better job."

"Yeah, but I wasn't here and if it had happened anywhere in a city, the mother probably wouldn't have had the help she needed to stop the bleeding. I mean it. You probably saved her life."

I was floored. Everything had happened so quickly and so matter of fact like, I hadn't really thought about how much danger B and the baby were in because of the difficult birth.

Over the next few weeks I doted on mother and child. I was still greatly weighted down by our loss, but knew life had to go on. It was not so much for me that I regained control of the farm, but more for my child and for her child that I did the necessary things. But I couldn't do it all by myself.

B's maternal grandparents came out three days a week to help. My mother in law, Grammy May, as B called her, helped B with the household and light crop chores. Her husband, Grampa Bill, was an old workhorse and was a godsend in the orchards and barn.

Gradually, we pulled ourselves together and got on with life, sort of.

One Saturday afternoon, as B fed Katy, I noticed how beautiful a mother and child can be. I thought for the first time in my life I understood the importance of the Madonna and child in Christian art, how it was so beloved by the people of faith and how I had my own Madonna and child right in front of my eyes.

"Daddy," B said, calling my name.

"Yes B."

"Why are you smiling?"

"I was thinking about the union of mother and child. How important the union is to life's continuum. I don't think there's a more beautiful site in nature."

"So I'm your Madonna am I?"

"Right now you are."

"Daddy. Are you ever going to go back to church with me?"

"Someday, maybe. Right now, I don't need the sympathy of all the town's folk."

"Oh, I think you do. You'd be surprised how knowing every Sunday I'm going to give thanks for life..."

"And death," I interrupted.

"And death," B went on. "How giving thanks for cycles, even the ones that are cut short, helps keep me centered. I think it would help you too."

"Right now, I don't think I can make it any farther than the dancing tree."

"But you've been to town."

"Yes, but I keep my head down and get in and out as quick as I can."

"Daddy," B said with a slight choking in her voice, "please come to church with me."

"I'll see," was all I could offer.

When B was finished feeding Katy, she handed her up to me. As I took her from her mother, B lifted her breast up in such a matter of fact way and examined it for a moment.

"God, I'm such a cow. Look how big these are she said, not realizing what she was saying."

I stood there, my mouth agape, staring at the blue veined melon sized breasts that were the life source for my granddaughter. I started to laugh.

B realized she was holding her breast up for examination and quickly covered up.

"Sorry Daddy. I feel like such a, I don't know, such an old sow. Why are you laughing?"

"Oh sweetie," I said. "I remember the time your mom found you trying to suckle milk out of the cow's teat."

"I was only four and I wanted to know how it tasted warm."

"My goodness, you remember."

"Of course. That's the first time Mom showed me how to properly milk the udder to get the milk. I never forgot."

"No you didn't."

"I'm a good milker, aren't I Daddy."

"Yup, baby, you're a good milker."

We both chuckled at the memory. But the dye had been cast.

The next Sunday morning, I awoke from a pleasant dream to find B standing over my bed holding Katy to her breast.

"B, are you okay?"

"Huh, oh sorry Daddy. I thought I'd see if you'd go to church with me today."

"Not today honey. I'm still not ready."

"Okay,' she said, with a slight grin at the corner of her mouth.

"What. I'm not ready yet," I reiterated, realizing I'd said yet and that probably meant at some point, I'd be ready to get back to our regular Sunday routine.

"Better use the bathroom Dad, then meet me in the kitchen. I've made a breakfast that's too big for me and the little angel here, so I'm going to need help eating it all."

"Okay," I said as she turned and walked out my door.

As I started to get up, I realized the sheet was tented by my morning erection. I wondered if that was why B was smiling. Maybe that's why she told me I'd better use the bathroom before meeting her and Katy in the kitchen. Oh well, I thought, it must have been a really good dream. I felt it was about time I dreamt of something other than tragedy.

At breakfast, B asked if I'd meet her for lunch under our special tree.

"Katy's never had Sunday lunch under my tree, and I think it's time she knew how beautiful our little hill is and how we can see all the way back here to the house. Don't you think that's a good idea?"

"Sure," I agreed, though I wondered if her motive was really to ease me back toward my regular life.

"Good, then. It's settled. We'll meet you at about half past noon."

"What should I bring," I asked?

"Make a lunch from all this leftover breakfast food. Bring some fruit too."

"Okay Sweetie, see you at the tree."

At noon, I'd finished all the morning chores and had put all the food in our picnic basket. I got a blanket and headed to the hill.

When B and Katy got there, I'd already spread out the blanket, laid out a platter of food which I'd covered with some paper towels to keep the critters away, and was leaning against the trunk watching B walk up the hill with Katy in her little carry halter.

"Whew, that used to be easier before this little bundle started gaining weight."

"She is getting bigger isn't she?"

"And hungry too," B said, taking Katy from her carry halter, unbuttoning her dress and lifting her back to her breast.

"How'd she do in church?"

"She was fine. I'd fed her about ten minutes before service began, so she basically slept and gurgled all through the sermon."

"Hmmm."

"Hmmm, what?" B asked.

"I was just thinking about the wonder of it all."

"The wonder of what all?"

"How your body creates food for her body. How your milk is the product of various parts of your body that find their way into a liquid that not only sustains life, but helps promote growth."

"Yeah. It really is miraculous."

"Here," I said, offering the platter to B so she too could eat."

"Thanks," she said, picking a muffin and a piece of bacon from the platter. "I'm famished again."

I poured juice in a cup and set it at her side so she could drink when she finished the muffin and piece of bacon then sat back and watched them both eat; B with the muffin and Katy at her breast.

A few minutes later B cleared her throat.

"It's beautiful isn't it?"

"Huh. Oh sorry B. I didn't mean to stare."

"It's okay if you perv a bit on me."

"Why Bethany Ann (I only used her middle name when I wanted her to pay attention) I was doing no such thing." I didn't want to admit to any such thing.

We both smiled slightly while I turned to fuss with more fruit to give B.

"Dad, what are we going to do with our lives?"

"Wow, honey. I hadn't even begun to think about it."

"I figured as much. But don't you think it's time we figured out a bit more than what we need to buy in town each week?"

"Like what Sweetie?"

"Like should you sell the farm..."

"Never. This was your mother's dream and it's one I gladly shared and still feel strongly about today."

"Okay. Then what about me and Katy?"

"You guys can stay here forever as far as I'm concerned."

"I know that. And to be frank, I probably like the idea more than I should."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'm scared stiff of being alone. I didn't realize how close to being alone we all are at any given time in our life."

"I see."

"Can you imagine little Katy here, all alone if something happened to me?"

"Nothing is going to..." I stopped talking as soon as B frowned up at me.

"You're probably right. But, and this is something that I've begun to think about lately; under this tree is my past, my present and my future. Everything and everyone I've ever known or will ever know who is a part of my flesh and blood is here with me now. It's vexing."

"That's an interesting way to look at the three of us sitting under your tree. But life goes on. Maybe I should sell the farm. The insurance money and the proceeds from the sale would set you and little Katy up for life."

"Yeah, but what kind of a life?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'd go to Vet school, I'd raise Katy by myself, I'd get a job in some small town somewhere, and wait out my days thinking about what might have been."

"Jeez, B, that sounds depressing as hell."

"Don't it?"

"Look, though I doubt I'll sell the farm any time soon, I'll do anything I can to make your life better. I owe you that."

"You don't owe me anything. I'm a woman with a child whose husband and mother died in a horrible freak, goddamn freak accident. I've got to take care of myself but all I can think about is you, Katy, the farm and this damn tree."

I was startled by her anger. She'd never in her life gotten mad about anything. She was a very accepting person of the stuff life sends our way. This was a bit of a surprise.

"Honey, it's okay to be confused. You've suffered a terrible loss."

"I'm not confused Dad. I'm mad. I'm mad that I have feelings. I'm mad I can't see past this," she said, sweeping her arm in a panoramic gesture. "I'm mad that the choices I'll have presented to me if I leave here, make me want to vomit."

"Hey, hey," I said, scooting across the blanket to take her in my arms. "Here," I said, tapping my forearm, "punch it out. I can take it."

B just looked up at me and started to cry. I felt helpless.

Later, after dinner, B put Katy to bed and came out onto our porch to sit with me.

"Winter's going to be here soon."

I nodded.

"It's been almost a year."

I turned and looked at B. I wondered where she was going with this line of talk.

"I want to have a frank conversation with you Dad. Can you handle anything I throw your way?"

"Of course, B. I've always been able to handle your questions and ideas."

"Well, I guarantee you, some of the stuff I want to talk about might surprise you."

"Go ahead."

B thought for a minute then cleared her throat.

"I'm gonna need a man."

"Okay," I said a bit slower than usual.

"You're gonna need a woman."

"Now hold on young lady. I'm..."

B put her finger to her lips.

"Shhh, Daddy. Let me talk. Please."

I folded my arms across my chest and sat back and nodded for B to go ahead.

"You don't need to be defensive. I'm not suggesting you'd dishonor Mom by being with another woman. But you know and I know we all get itches that need to be scratched."

"I'll be okay."

"Not according to what Mom told me. She said you had your regular needs, lots of regular needs as she put it, and she told me all about those needs."

"She did what?"

"It's okay Dad. Del had needs too, and I was glad to take care of those needs. In fact, I miss taking care of those needs."

"Of course you do Sweetie."

"Right. But there's not a man around these parts that's deserving of me and I don't think there ever will be."

"You'll find someone."

"Okay. Maybe. But what about you? Who's going to take care of you when I'm gone?"

"That's not for you to worry about. When I feel the need, I'll figure out how to take care of it."

"You mean take matters into your own hands, so to speak," B said smiling.

"Now see here Bethany Ann. I don't think it's appropriate you and I have that kind of a conversation."

B started laughing. After a few seconds, I started to smile.

"See. Mom said you'd be a hard one to talk about sex with, no pun intended of course."

"B, baby, where'd you get these notions?"

"Mom told me all about your sex life together. But that's not what I want to talk about. I want to talk about your love life. And if it happens to include sex well, so be it."

"I don't quite follow."

B thought for a minute before continuing.

"Listen. Close your eyes and listen."

I looked her way with a questioning furrow to my brow.

"Just listen, Dad."

I closed my eyes and listened.

As it had just turned dark, the sounds of crickets began in earnest. In the little copse of trees at the edge of the drive way, I heard our resident owl hoot its evening greeting to all little creatures, sort of an advance notice of its intention to feed on whatever ventured out to forage in the weeds and bushes.

I heard the branches of trees whisper as a gentle breeze picked up and passed from one tree to the next and so on.

I heard one of the horses whinny out in the pasture and a cow start its gentle lowing, calming its calf and I heard the dog barking, probably chasing a skunk into the orchard. Then I heard B's breathing, even, measured, calm, but deep, deep and healthy.

"What did you hear?"

"I heard everything," I answered. Then I told her what I'd heard. B smiled.

"Do you know what we all have in common?"

"What?"

"This place. Everything you heard comes from the life that calls this place, this farm, these hills, home."

I arched my eyebrow and smiled.

"Do you know the owl ate three baby mice and a garden snake this week?"

"How do you know?"

"I don't Dad. But that's not the point."

"You're being ob, ob...What's that word you like to use?"

"Obtuse. No. I'm not being obtuse. I'm leading up to a point."

"Well could you hurry up and get there, I gotta pee pretty soon."

"Ha-ha. If you gotta go that bad, just stand on the edge of the porch and pee."

"I was just sayin'."

"I know. You were lost and you wanted me to guide you so you can see what's so obvious to me."

"Something like that."

"Okay. Here's the point." B paused, gathered her thoughts, then went on. " The point is, even though we don't see every ant that dies, every mouse the owl eats, every skunk that's hit by a car tryin' to cross the highway, those animals that are left behind tend to stay pretty close to where they were born."

"Oh. I get it. We're just like animals and since you were born near here, though we've lost part of our family, we're best off staying here."

"Something like that," B responded. " But there's more I've not quite worked out yet. So here's my suggestion."

I waited.

"Okay. Here goes. Next Sunday, I want you to come to church with me. I want you to walk with me like we always used to do and we'll take another basket for lunch afterwards. Then, after lunch, I'll tell you what's on my mind."

I looked at her trying to see a hint of what she was thinking, but what I could see of her face, barely illuminated by the light coming from inside the house, really didn't reveal much. I guess I'd have to wait a week to see what B was thinking.

"Let's go inside. I need to feed Katy one more time before I turn in."

We went inside.

I fussed with the kitchen while B fed Katy.

"Dad."

"Yes B."

"Dad, could you bring me a glass of water please?"

"Sure thing," I said, as I got a glass and filled it with water.

"Do you want lime?"

"Yes please."

I cut a lime wedge and took the water into the living room.

"Thanks," she said, as I handed her the glass. "Sit. I'm almost done."

I sat down in the chair opposite the couch and watched as she finished feeding her child.

"She's not very hungry tonight," B said, as she took Katy from her breast and lay her over her shoulder to burp her. This time she left her breast exposed and for some reason, I seemed to be drawn to it and was surprised I was not too self-conscious about looking at my daughter's naked breast.

"They're not as nice as Mom's boobs were."

"Huh?"

"My breasts, Dad," B said, squeezing her breast and lifting it up to look at it. "Mom had beautiful breasts."

"Honey, your breasts are just fine. And you don't seem to hear Katy complaining about their usefulness."

"I'm talking about their proportion to the rest of my frame. God, they're such a bother some time." Then she lay the baby down and opened her blouse fully to expose the other breast. "See. They're just, I don't know, they're just too big."

I sat looking at my daughter's naked breasts for a minute before answering.

"They'll return to normal once you wean Katy."

"Hopefully."

"They will. Now cover up, please."

Without a word, B buttoned her shirt back up, then picked up her daughter and went off to bed. She didn't even say goodnight.

I slept fitfully. But not before taking matters into my own hands so to speak.

CHAPTER III

The week passed slowly.

For some reason, I had mixed feelings about going to church on Sunday. I'd sorted out how I'd deal with the expressions of sympathy, even though it'd been nearly a year since the accident. It was after church that gave me a feeling of anxiety. I couldn't figure out why B wanted to wait until then to tell me what was on her mind.

Monday passed, then Tuesday, and then the rest of the week seemed to race by in a flash. I blinked my eyes and it was Saturday night, just like that...

"Daddy," B hollered from her room. "Can you come here for just a minute."

I walked into her room to find her in her slip and bra. She was wearing her black pumps and stood facing me, holding up two dresses.

"Which one do you think I should wear?"

"B, what on earth's got into you? You could wear a gunny sack and you'd be fine."

"Oh Dad," she said with a note of exasperation in her voice. "If I wear the blue dress, I might seem a bit showoffy, what with all my cleavage. I think I should wear the green one, don't you?"

"Green one's fine honey," I said, starting to go back to the kitchen.

"Wait. Here, let me show you."

B set the green dress on her bed and pulled the blue one over her head and slithered into it. It did offer a bit of cleavage that I'd never paid attention to in the past.

"I see what you mean."

"Yeah. See," B said, hefting her breasts and pulling the collar closed. But when she let go of it, it separated again and showed the inside swell of her breasts quite prominently.

"Best go with the green one."

"Yeah. Huh. If I wear the blue one, town might start thinking I'm ready for the boys to come callin'."

"They just might at that."

After we ate supper and after B fed Katy, we went out on the porch to enjoy the night again.

"Dad, can I sit in your lap like I used to do?"

"Uh, I guess so," was my lame response,

B snuggled into my lap pulling my arm around her and grabbing my hand to pull it down to the top of her breast. It seemed like a natural movement, so I didn't yank my hand away. Instead, I entwined my fingers in hers and kissed her on the top of her head.

"You smell good tonight. Are you wearing perfume?"

"No silly," she answered. I got some new shampoo. Do you like it?"

"Yes I do. It's, I don't know, it's very earthy, like the woods after a rain."

"That's an apt description. In fact, now that you point it out, that's exactly what I was reminded of when I first used it."

"It's, how should I say, intoxicating."

"Yeah, intoxicating. Kinda turns you on huh?"

"Not that kind of intoxicating. More like, I don't know, cleansing, the kind of well being you feel after a hard days work and then a long, hot bath. Clean. Refreshing. That's what I meant."

"Oh, too bad. I was hoping for the other kind of intoxicating."

"B, you do go on child. If you're not careful, I'll have to spank you."

"Umm, it'd be a start."

"Now stop it," I said, slapping her thigh lightly. But truth be told, I was a bit intoxicated in that way. Though surprisingly, it didn't seem to put me off.

I pulled her head to my chest and gently pulled at her ear lobe.