Growing Grounds

Chapter 11: Strange Happenings

Matt sprinted from the kitchen to the living room. “Tammy! What happened?” He rushed to her and pulled her away from the window. “Are you all right? Are you hurt? Did you fall?”

Tammy held onto the curtain, watching in horror as more crows landed in the yard and on the porch, cawing and strutting around, searching for entry with their oily, beady, black eyes.

Matt shook Tammy gently and put his face close to hers. “Tammy! Are you okay?” He pulled the curtain from her hand.

“Yes. I think I am. Look out there at the crows, Matt. They chased me into the house! That’s not normal. What the hell is going on?” Tammy pulled away from him and took up her former position at the window.

Matt pulled the curtain away from the window on the other side of the door and looked out. “They chased you into the house?” Matt didn’t look away from the crows.

“Yes. I walked to the woods and then I heard a crow calling in the distance. When the other crows answered, I looked up because they sounded close—and they were diving out of the trees, coming toward me.” Tammy’s lungs finally stopped burning and her breaths came more naturally.

“Have you been feeding them? Anything? Scraps, bird food?” Matt still didn’t look at Tammy.

“No, I haven’t been feeding the crows, Matt. Why would I feed the crows?” Tammy dropped the curtain and backed away from the window a couple steps.

“Well, a lot of people out here throw their food scraps out away from their houses, and the crows eat that stuff. Apparently they like it—easy food.” He dropped the curtain into place and turned to look at Tammy levelly. “So, if you haven’t been feeding them inadvertently, or on purpose, then maybe you got close to a nest or one of their feeding spots. I don’t know.” He pulled back the curtain for another peek.

Tammy looked out through the high window on the door, standing on tiptoe to accomplish the feat. “I haven’t fed them on purpose or on accident. Even if I did happen onto a feeding spot or a nest or whatever, I really didn’t think crows were aggressive.” She turned from the window and started for the kitchen; she needed a bottle of water.

“I didn’t either, but who knows? We are still a bit new at this country living thing. I’m sure that we’ll learn some things as we go along.”

His words sounded confident, but Tammy could hear the trepidation in his tone.

“Yeah, I’m sure we will, but I don’t think we’ll learn that crows are vicious. Just saying.” She reached into the fridge and grabbed a cold bottle of water, suddenly more dehydrated than ever. Turning up the bottle, Tammy took a long gulp. As soon as the water touched her throat, she tasted chemicals and rushed to the sink. The taste was abrasive. She spat the water into the kitchen sink.

Matt stopped at the table. “Honey? Are you sure you’re okay? You going to barf in the sink?”

Tammy shook her head and spat again. The taste of unidentified chemicals still on her tongue. Finally, when she could close her mouth and not gag at the taste, she turned to Matt and held out the bottle to him.

Reaching for the bottle the way one might reach for a snake, he asked, “What am I supposed to do with this, Tammy?” He held it between his thumb and forefinger, arm outstretched. He might have been holding a radioactive thing instead of a bottle of water.

“Would you taste of it and tell me what that taste is, please? I think there are chemicals in that water.”

Shaking his head, but still not bringing the bottle any closer to his mouth, Matt said, “This is distilled, honey. There are no chemicals.”

“Oh, all right, then. Is that why you look like you’re holding a bottle full of nitroglycerin instead of water?”

“No. But if it made you yark in the sink, I’m not sure I want to drink any of it myself.” He moved forward and put the bottle gingerly on the counter beside the sink.

“I didn’t yark, and it isn’t poisonous. You don’t have to drink any of it, just taste of it; put some in your mouth and swirl it around. Tell me if you taste chemicals. If that has something in it, I’m writing the company. I can’t have unidentified chemicals in my distilled water. I’m pregnant!” She snatched a hand towel from the drawer, wiped her hands and mouth, and tossed it onto the counter. Putting both hands on her hips, Tammy looked at Matt and shrugged in question.

Holding up both hands, Matt said, “All right! I give; don’t start shooting. I’ll taste the water. Sheesh!” Matt took the bottle, sniffed the opening, swirled the water and sniffed again. “It smells all right.” He let a tiny amount roll into his mouth. Then he turned it up and drank more. Eyeing Tammy, he set the bottle on the counter again, smacking his lips together.

Tammy waited patiently until he began smacking his lips and then, louder than she meant, she asked, “Well? Does it have chemicals, Matt?”

The expression on his face was one of deep concentration. He said nothing. Smacked his lips a few more times and then looked at her with big, rounded eyes, his mouth forming an O, and grabbed his throat with both hands. Grabbing at the counter with one hand, he made choking noises and grabbed at his throat with the other as he crumpled to his knees.

Tammy, horrified, screamed, “Matt! Oh, God! No! Nonononono!” On her knees at his side, she cradled his head as he slowly slumped sideways and his head landed on her thighs.

Matt’s hand fell away from his throat, his expression relaxed, and his stare became fixed at a point on the ceiling.

Tammy shook him. “Matt! Don’t you dare die on me! You get up!” She shook him again.

Matt took a breath, looked into Tammy’s eyes, smiled, and said, “Honey, did you know you’re getting fat?” He laughed at his own joke.

Tammy did not laugh. Tammy was furious and shoved him off her legs onto the kitchen floor. “Are you serious, you asshole? What the hell, Matt?” She held her stomach and stood.

Matt jumped to his feet, chuckling. “Seriously, babe, have you noticed the little baby belly you got going on there?” He reached out to rub her belly and she slapped his hand away.

“You think you’re really clever, huh? You damn near gave me heart failure.” She pushed him away again, her anger rising. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again! That could cause me to lose the babies! What is wrong with you?” She began to cry. Some of the tears were from relief that Matt was all right; some of them were from anger at his stupid joke; and some were from fear of hurting the babies.

The smile fell from Matt’s face and the laughter from his voice. Both hands dropped to his sides and he took a step—a big step—backward. “Babies? As in plural?”

“Yes, you i***t, as in two babies, not just one.” Tammy sniffled, coughed, and sniffled again. Wiping the twin streams of tears from her cheeks, she vocalized her angst in a controlled primal yell, both hands balled into fists at her thighs. At the end of the scream—much like the temper-fits Cindy used to throw when they were young—Tammy said, “I can’t believe you, Matthew Milner. For the second time today, I cannot believe some of the things you do!” She turned and stomped off to the living room, still afraid to go outside because of the crows. Damn birds.

In the living room, Tammy decided to sit on the cushioned chair closest to the chair. She didn’t want there to be enough room beside her for Matt to flop down and do his puppy dog routine trying to make up for his stupidity over the water.

Kicking off her shoes, Tammy pulled her feet up and put her toes in the space between the arm of the chair and the cushion on which she sat. In this position, her feet were pointed toward the chair.

Why did I come to the living room and sit so close to that damnable thing? Did it just take getting furious with Matt for me to overcome my fear and loathing of it? Is it just a hunk of wood?

Matt walked into the living room, eyes downcast, carrying the bottle of water. He stopped in the middle of the living room and looked at Tammy, the chair, the loveseat, the couch, and back to Tammy as if searching for somewhere to sit and not being satisfied with any of the choices. Incredibly, he sat in the floor right in front of her legs, back against the chair.

The back of his head made a good target—if one was inclined to think that way. Tammy thought it was probably a good idea that she didn’t think along those lines. Really? Then, why did you think that in the first place?

Well, she didn’t think about that sort of stuff in a serious manner. However, she did have the sudden urge to smack the back of his head for his trick in the kitchen. Her knees still twitched and her hands still shook from the scare.

Leaning his head back until it touched her leg, Matt asked, “Tammy?”

“Matt?” She questioned back.

“How do you know there are two babies? Did you go to the doctor? Did the doctor call while I was out?” Matt turned up the bottle and drank more water.

“I just know. No. No.” Tammy was in no mood to talk to him yet.

“You just know? Okay. The water’s fine, by the way.” He turned it up and finished it to prove his point. He turned sideways and looked up.

Tammy expected the puppy dog eyes routine and was mildly surprised when he didn’t try it.

“How do you just know, hon? I’m not a woman, and I know there are things men will never understand about this, but I’m just curious, that’s all.” He rubbed her knee with one hand and continued to stare up at her.

Suddenly, Tammy found it irritating that Matt was sitting there, head on her leg, rubbing her knee, looking up as if he was a lost child. “I just know. That’s it. I just know.” She moved her knee away from his hand and he stopped rubbing.

“Okay. You just know. Women’s intuition kind of thing going on, I guess.” He grinned up at her and got to his knees. Leaning in close, he said, “I am sorry for that…in the kitchen. You’re right; it was stupid and thoughtless of me. My only defense is that I am stuck in a classroom with kids all day. Little kids.” He kissed her temple. “Mean little kids, at that.” He kissed the tip of her nose and stood up.

“Hmm. Okay.” Tammy didn’t move.

“So, you forgive me?” He smiled, a big, loopy, goofy smile.

Tammy shrugged. “What choice do I have?” She shot him a sarcastically mean look and grinned like a mean little kid.

Matt laughed. “See, even you have a mean streak.” He took the water bottle to the kitchen, threw it into the trashcan, and yelled, “Score!”

Tammy could hear him going through the fridge, probably looking for something sweet. Thoughts of food turned to thoughts of moss, leaves, and roots. Confused, Tammy shifted in her seat. She wondered what moss would taste like, and then shifted in her seat again.