Growing Grounds

Chapter 15: The Agreement

“Matt! Stop! He won’t go out. Let him alone.” Tammy took two small steps toward Matt and the squawking crow.

Matt stopped, looked over his shoulder at Tammy incredulously, and the crow flitted back to the living room. Turning, still in the heat of the moment, Matt grabbed the broom and headed to the living room, ignoring Tammy’s words.

Tammy ran down the hallway and into the living room. She had to stop him before he killed the crow. “Matt, please!”

She ran around the coffee table and stood between Matt and the chair, where the crow had perched on the armrest again. Matt had raised the broom up and out to his right side as if it were a baseball bat. He didn’t lower the broom when Tammy stepped between him and his feathered target.

“Get out of the way, Tammy! What are you thinking? We cannot have a wild crow running around inside the house. How the hell did he get in anyway?” Matt stepped to the side, stretching to see the bird around Tammy.

It crossed her mind to lie to Matt—something she had, thus far, never done. Although he had lied to her and she had been unable to detect that lie, Tammy simply could not bring herself to lie to him. Should she tell him the whole truth? No, that would have to include the bit about eating grass and moss and she would much rather leave that out. A partial truth? Yes. Even though she hated the lectures he gave about her walking to the stream, filling the jug with the water, and then actually drinking the water…that was better than telling him about the grass and moss. It was also a much better choice than just outright lying to him about it all.

Huffing, Tammy rolled her eyes, and grunted. It was a sound of resignation to some unsavory task that she must do. “When I came back from filling the water jug—”

The broom hit the floor. Uh-oh. Here was the part where he’d lecture again.

“You went to the stream? Again?” Matt ran a hand through his hair—a sure sign that he was very agitated. “I thought we talked about this, Tammy. You know how I feel about the whole creek thing. Did you at least have your cell with you this time?” He walked the broom back to the hallway and leaned it against the wall.

Had she had her cell with her? Tammy couldn’t remember, so she nodded and hoped it wasn’t a lie. It mattered little now; she was home safe and the water was in the fridge. Nothing bad had happened.

Matt stood in the hallway, hands on hips. “Okay. I give up on that. I just wish like hell you would at least wait until I’m here and let me walk out there with you. You’re a city girl, like it or not. Neither of us is aware of all the possible dangers out there in the woods. Especially since we know you’re pregnant.”

She knew he wanted to add the part about not wanting her to have another miscarriage, but he stopped just short of saying that. Tammy was glad. Otherwise, she might have been inclined to go to bed for the next few days, and give in to the ever-present, ever-threatening fog of depression that followed her every step of every day.

She nodded that she understood. Maybe Matt took the nod to mean that she agreed and would wait on him to accompany her from now on to the stream, and if he did read that meaning into the nod, well, she was inclined to let him think what he wanted to think. She had not lied. She had merely nodded.

“All that aside, how did the crow get into the house, now? Let’s just stick to discussing the other elephant in the room for the moment.” Matt stepped sideways again in an attempt to see the crow.

Tammy had suddenly lost the desire to care what Matt thought about any of her story. He had not mentioned the miscarriage, but he had insinuated heavily enough by his expression and his actions that she knew what he’d been thinking about. Thoughts of that period in their life always made Tammy melancholy, numb inside.

Looking at him, feeling the fire go out of her mind, thoughts and body; feeling her mind slip to a darker path, Tammy related the story to Matt, omitting the part about the crow talking, of course. Her words came out in a monotone that sounded dead to her ears. The tiny expenditure of energy to correct the monotone wasn’t on her high priority to-do list.

“And he went straight to the chair and perched, just like he’s doing now?” Matt stepped into the living room but didn’t cross to the chair.

Tammy nodded and looked at the crow. He sat quietly perched on the armrest, watching the exchange between the two humans intently. Each time one of them moved, he followed the movement, but never cawed or flapped his wings; he sat and observed, sometimes opening his beak as if ready to caw.

Tammy moved to the sofa chair and flopped in it, hands limp in her lap, looking straight ahead but not really seeing anything in the room. Her mind had gone back to the last time she had been pregnant.

How happy she and Matt had been. They were going to be parents. Tammy had changed the type of music she listened to and even put padded headphones on her tummy so the baby could listen and enjoy—and reap the many benefits he was supposed to get from listening to Beethoven, Mozart, and other classical music—while she and Matt watched television. Tammy had been conscious of everything she ate, drank, thought, and even every emotion. Her body became a temple to the little miracle of life she was carrying.

At almost five months pregnant, the powers that be had said no. She had awoken with crippling, sharp pains through her lower abdomen and had called for Matt. He helped her to the bathroom and she sat on the toilet thinking, hoping that she had contracted a bad stomach bug. Instead, she crumpled over and fell to the tiled floor of their apartment, blood gushing from between her legs. Tammy fell unconscious.

She awoke several hours later to a hospital room full of sad faces. Her friends and Matt’s friends had gathered in the room as a show of support for them both. One look at Matt’s red, puffy face told Tammy all she had needed to know. She turned away from everyone and cried until she fell asleep again.

Matt walked cautiously toward Tammy. “You all right, hon?”

“I’m fine. Just leave the crow alone, okay?” The twins want to keep him, she wanted to add but did not.

“Why would you want a wild crow in the house, baby? I don’t understand. You were terrified of them the other day.” He stood at the side of her chair. He and the crow stared evenly at each other.

“Isn’t it enough that I just want him to stay inside? I don’t know why. I just want him, Matt. I’ll take care of him. You won’t have to do anything with him.” Tammy looked at the crow and the bird broke his gaze with Matt to look toward her. The crow tilted his head and let out a soft, cooing caw.

“Wow. I don’t know whether to pinch myself and make sure I’m not having a trippy dream, or be afraid. I think that bird just cooed at you. I didn’t even know crows could make a sound like that.”

Mr. Crow looked back to Matt. The black eyes set in a harder stare, and the bird’s body language changed in such subtle ways that they were only perceptible on another level of consciousness. But the changes suggested that the crow looked defensive and even angry, challenging when its gaze landed on Matt.

The changes to Matt’s body language, his demeanor, and his expression were much less subtle. He hated the black bird, did not want it in the house, did not trust it, and would be happier if the thing were outside, where he thought it belonged, or dead.

The babies moved. Again, Tammy noted how the movements suggested that the twins were pulling toward the chair. Toward the chair and Mr. Crow, now.

Thank you, Mommy, said the girl’s voice.

Tammy rubbed her tummy where she had felt the movement and silently sent out, You’re welcome, my loves. In answer, the twins moved gently to the side near the chair, and settled.

Matt paced to the hallway, looked out the window, paced back into the living room, and went a step closer to the bird. Mr. Crow opened his beak and raised his wings barely, as if readying for flight at the slightest sign of conflict.

Glaring at the bird, Matt said, “I’ll buy a cage for him today. I need to run back to town anyway. You should go with me, Tammy. We’ll pick up some bird food, or whatever that thing needs. I can’t just have him running loose in the house, though. Nope. Can’t even consider it.” Finally, Matt turned to look at Tammy, his expression softening a bit.

“I don’t really feel like riding to town. I think I’ll take a nap. You go on ahead and do whatever you need to and if you can’t find a bird cage today, maybe I’ll go with you tomorrow and try to find one.” She smiled and the smile felt paper thin, weak.

“Might do you some good to get out of the house some, Tammy.” Matt stepped closer to the bird. He was testing to see if the critter would become aggressive, Tammy thought.

“I know, but I walk to the stream every day. That’s enough for now, Matt. I do still have work to do. I’m running late on a website design—I should have it turned in by tomorrow, but it looks like I’ll be working on it until sometime next week.” Tammy shrugged. “I’m not going to stress out and make myself sick over it, though.”

Matt laid his hand on her shoulder. Mr. Crow moved to the end of the armrest, c****d his head and looked from Tammy to the hand on her shoulder, and then to Matt, and quickly back to Tammy. He made the cooing sound again. Twice the crow did this, repeating every movement exactly.

Matt laughed. “Hey, she’s fine. I’m her husband, stupid bird.” He squeezed Tammy’s shoulder and when she looked up, he gave her a kiss. “I think Crow over there is jealous.”

“No, he’s just protective, I think.” Not knowing what to think about the weird display, Tammy eyed Crow for a moment, the question of his intentions on her mind, and the babies rolled, began to move around.

Crow cawed, a long, rolling, sound almost like a German trilling an R far back in his throat. When the sound stopped, the babies quieted again.

“Say something to him, Tammy. I’m curious how he’ll respond to you speaking.”

“You’re encouraging me to talk to a crow? Crows don’t talk, Matt. They’re part of the animal kingdom. Remember explaining that to me?” Her words were clipped, tinged with anger.

Sighing loudly, he answered, “Yes. I remember. He can’t talk, Tammy. But, just like with a dog, cat, or other pet, I bet he can understand and respond in some birdy way.”

“All right. Fine.” Tammy was curious, too. She had planned to wait until Matt was gone and talk to Crow. “What do you want, Crow?” She looked directly at the bird when she spoke.

That long, low caw came again.

“Okay, I’m not sure what that means, but it didn’t sound hateful.” Tammy looked to Matt. “Happy now? He cooed at me. I spoke to a bird just like a crazy person would.” Tammy stood and stepped over in front of the bird, who c****d his head to peer up at her with one round, black, shiny eye.

“Yeah. At least he doesn’t seem to be aggressive. Or afraid. That could be a good sign, though. Maybe he was someone’s pet and he got away from them somehow and ended up here. That’s logical.” Matt walked toward the kitchen. “I’ll fix us something for lunch.” From the kitchen, he said, “I still say you should get him out of the house. I don’t like him in here.”

“I know. I’ll think about it, then. But you saw that he’s harmless. He didn’t even hurt you when you took the broom after him.” Tammy yelled back from the living room.

“Well, he goes in a cage, then. That’s the only way I can agree to this. If he’s been a pet, he’ll take to a cage just fine, I bet.”

“Probably. It has to be a big cage, though. I don’t want him to be all cramped up in it.” She sat on the couch for a moment and then stepped back to the chair. The babies seemed to pull down on her from the inside as if they were guiding her to sit in the chair.

“We’ll see what we can find, babe.” Matt rattled through the pot and pan cabinet by the stove.

Tammy held out a hand to the bird, half expecting to get pinched for her effort. The bird, instead, lowered his head and butted it against her palm. She stroked down his back lightly. “Yeah. Maybe you were a pet, huh?”

Crow answered with a short caw that sounded, to Tammy’s ears, suspiciously like the word no.