The Skinwalker's Tale

by Christopher Carrolli

  He was going for a job interview at a trucking company, and from there, a quick jaunt for groceries. He’d asked if it would be alright if Claudia sat with her Uncle Jack and Aunt Viv for possibly an hour or two. Vivian had been delighted; Jack had been hopeful, but skeptical.

  Jacob had never returned.

  Claudia had just given birth at sixteen, and it had been eleven years since Jack had laid eyes on his brother. He’d heard rumors that Jacob had fled to Florida, but the rumors were unfounded, not to mention the sources were less than credible. It was better this way, anyway. Claudia had a much safer and more normal life with him and Viv on the farm.

  She’d been a girl with a big heart, but she’d also been a handful. There were emotional problems, much of which Jack had attributed to being abandoned, but the shrinks had said that the issues ran much deeper. Claudia had what they called an “imbalance.” Her moods ranged from happily excited, to somberly depressed within the flash a second, or at the snap of invisible fingers.

  He and Vivian had raised her as their own child, and they considered this baby their grandchild. They’d not been able to have children of their own. Life without Claudia would have been hard to imagine. Now, Jack watched her as the soundness of sleep bewitched her like Sleeping Beauty. The day had come to an end, and Jack fell fast asleep in the other bedside chair.

  * * * *

  He awakened in the dimness of the hospital room shortly before the crack of dawn. Vivian was tugging at his sleeve. He felt an ache in his neck, which stiffened from sleeping all night in the bedside chair. Another nurse entered the room to check on the sleeping Claudia, silently sedate in the feeble hours.

  “I think she’s going to sleep for awhile yet.” She whispered in a soft, lulling hush. “Maybe you both should go get some rest and come back later. She’ll be fine, I assure you.”

  She was right. He and Vivian had been at the hospital nearly all day, yesterday, and all night, last night. They’d eaten twice in the cafeteria and slept upright in chairs for most of the night. There was an old-fashioned bed and breakfast down the street from the hospital, and within thirty minutes, they checked in.

  After an early breakfast, they retired to their room upstairs. The next day, Jack drove back to Green Valley, retrieved some luggage for their indefinite stay, and then returned to Langdon. They remained hopeful over the next few days as the baby seemed to be progressing. Then, one day, it was nearly noon when the phone in their room rang. Jack had given their lodging information to the hospital when they’d checked in. Unless it was the front desk, the ringing phone would belong to only one source.

  Jack and Vivian glanced at each other. Jack was closer to the phone, so he snatched it from the cradle and answered. A familiar voice from the hospital spoke.

  “Mr. Taylor, this is Nurse Johnson from Langdon Memorial. Could you come to the hospital as soon as possible?”

  The tone in her voice was urgent, but not alarming.

  “What’s happened? Is Claudia alright?”

  “Physically, she’s fine, Mr. Taylor,” she said. “But, we seem to be having an episode. She’s insistent that you and your wife get here now.”

  An episode, Jack thought. Something must have triggered that episode, whether it was childbirth, the sedatives, or waking up alone. Claudia had an imbalance or a “bi-polar” disorder, as they were calling it in this day and age. He and Vivian had explained it all to them yesterday. Jack didn’t remember hanging up the phone, but he was aware of how fast he and Viv made it back to the hospital.

  Claudia’s angry outburst echoed out into the hallway.

  “Liars! Thieves! All of you! Where’s my baby? I want my baby!”

  As Jack and Vivian entered the room, they caught sight of Claudia throwing a pillow at a nurse who was trying to calm her. The nurse ducked from the flying pillow that missed her face by mere centimeters. Another nurse lingered and took shelter in the doorway, cradling a bundle.

  “Uncle Jack! That’s not my baby! Look at it! It’s not mine! I want my baby!”

  “What?” Jack said. “What’s going on here?”

  The nurse who ducked from the pillow spoke first.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Taylor,” she said, motioning with her hands toward the bundle in the other nurse’s arms. “This baby has made an astounding recovery in a little over three days. The doctors are calling him a miracle. We brought him to her to show her the good news, and now she claims this isn’t her baby.”

  A whimper escaped Vivian.

  “I assure you that this is her baby,” the nurse continued. “He’s doing miraculously well. We’ve never seen a baby adapt and recover at such at rate, but it’s been known to happen. We brought him to her, first thing.”

  An early October peel of thunder rumbled over the nurse’s voice, but not Claudia’s.

  “It’s not mine, Uncle Jack!” Her loud voice cracked from her harsh, angry protests. “How is it possible? He’s not the baby we watched through the window!”

  Claudia’s words came intermittingly between heaving breaths of hysteria, referring to the boy as “it,” and the fact that such an undersized infant had grown in such a small span of time. Vivian moved close to her bedside.

  “Stay calm, Claudia,” she said. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, one way or another...Jack—”

  Viv motioned him to check the bundle in the other nurse’s arms. He walked over to the young nurse that cradled the bundle, and she tilted the swaddling closer toward him in order for him to see. It was a sight he would never forget. The baby boy turned his head toward him, distracted by the sudden movement that had interrupted the soft, slight swaying. He stared at Jack with deep brown eyes that now overshadowed their original glossy-blue hue of birth.

  The baby was larger, more formed, as a newborn would be. Jack was astounded by what he saw, but what if Claudia was right? Though it was the face that Jack remembered most, and he was certain that this was the baby they’d watched through the window.

  He moved over to the bedside.

  “Viv, go and see,” he said, certain that Vivian would see the same as he had.

  Vivian walked over to the young nurse, still close to the doorway. Jack watched as tears of joy escaped his wife when the nurse placed the bundle in her arms. Vivian rocked him in between the cooing, the crying, and her repetitive “Oh, my.”

  “Oh, Claudia,” she said. “He’s beautiful, just as beautiful as when we saw him last.”

  Claudia clutched Jack’s arm and shrieked in what he feared was the onset of madness. The tears drenched Claudia’s face, but not for the same reason as Vivian.

  “I’m telling you, Uncle Jack,” she said. “That’s not my baby! I know it!”

  “Claudia, honey,” he said. “You’ve just been under a lot of stress. You’ve just given birth. He’s a lucky little guy. It’s like the nurse said; he’s a miracle. You said yourself that he looked bigger when we saw him through the window.”

  Claudia’s tears gave way to abandon, as though no one would listen. Jack and Vivian had explained to the doctors that the medication Claudia was prescribed had been toned down due to her pregnancy. Now, Jack took the first nurse aside, reminding her of Claudia’s psychiatric diagnosis.

  “We know, Mr. Taylor,” she said. “The doctor is on his way to see her.”

  Jack knew which doctor she meant, the psychiatrist. And it wasn’t much longer when the doctor, as stiff as the white coat he wore, walked through the door.

  “It’s alright, Claudia,” he said. “You’ll be fine. You’ve just given birth, and your meds have been a little too low. Just relax.”

  Jack stayed by Claudia’s side as she was sedated once again. They all listened to her adamant reverberations that the child wasn’t hers, that the nurses had switched babies on her. Couldn’t they all see that the baby had grown too much? Those were her last words before she slipped off into sleeping abandon.

  Outside, the thunder rumbled, dominating the sudden silence that followed.<
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  Chapter Seven

  Two days later, Claudia and the baby were released from the hospital. Claudia hadn’t spoken in forty-eight hours. She remained mute, lost in a bitter spell that left her unspoken, unfeeling, and staring with dark eyes focused through sheer resentment. The nurses stared at her, somehow oblivious to the fact that a sixteen year-old girl with a mental issue had just given birth; they seemed to expect a sense of gratefulness that just wasn’t there.

  Claudia sat speechless in the wheelchair. The young vocal powerhouse that had caused such a display of antics now remained silently defiant, unmoved, and unaffected.

  “It’s better if I take the baby for now,” Viv said, taking the baby from the nurse’s arms. Claudia was being released, and the only response they’d gotten from her was her signature on the release forms. After which, she dropped the pen as quickly as she’d picked it up.

  The pain caused by a young mother’s seeming rejection of her child was felt by all, but it was as unspoken as the mother herself, sitting in the wheelchair and staring at nothing. Claudia was not lost in some voluntary catatonia, but overtaken by a bi-polar shift that maintained her bitterness in perfect working order. Jack and Vivian received pitiful stares from the medical staff that had helped them. It was if somehow, they foresaw the ultimate outcome.

  “We’re going to take great care of this little fella,” Viv said, the tears dampening her eyes once again. She cradled the baby, who still hadn’t been named, and rocked him in her arms. Claudia sat staring ahead, unseeing, and somehow, unhearing.

  The four-hour ride home was silent and uneventful. Vivian sat in the back with the baby in her arms, while Claudia sat up front, staring at the colorful October scenery as it passed. The baby cried only twice during the entire ride, and each time, he drifted off to sleep again within seconds. The familiar rural scenery of Green Valley soon appeared and welcomed them home just before an October dusk fell early.

  Claudia somewhat softened in the following days. She was back to her regular dosage of medication, and Jack could see the bitterness melting like an ice cube. He even caught a slight crack of a smile, here and there, when he would try to lighten her up. It usually worked, and it seemed to be working now.

  Yet she remained distant, skeptical, and when it came to the baby, she was standoffish. She had yet to hold her child in her arms. But Jack and Vivian could see traces of both guilt and embarrassment in Claudia, and they’d figured that those feelings were most likely responsible for her reticence. Viv persisted in trying to involve her, attempting to ignite a spark in a windstorm.

  “There are so many names I like,” Viv said, rocking the baby in her arms. “But you should pick what you like, Claudia. It’s your baby. Now think, what does he look like...an Ernest? No, he doesn’t look too Ernest yet. What about Horatio?”

  Vivian’s teasing provoked the largest smile from Claudia that they’d seen in a long time. It was nearly a week, and the baby had yet to be named.

  “No, he’s definitely not a Horatio,” Viv said, sighing.

  “Well, we’d better come up with something, soon,” Jack said, “or we’re going to be calling this kid ‘Baby Taylor’ for the rest of his life.”

  Claudia hissed in laughter, though it was soft laughter. Jack and Vivian eyed each other silently. It was the first real breakthrough they’d seen since arriving home. Vivian’s voice adopted a more serious tone as she spoke.

  “I have been thinking of names, Claudia, and I think I may’ve found one you’ll like. Do you remember Brett Jamison, the farmhand that used to work here, the one who taught you how to ride horses when you were a little girl?”

  Vivian and Jack had spoken to Claudia like such all week. They would speak, let the message sink in, and then the silence would ensue. They knew she would speak when she was ready and hoped that something, anything they said, would rouse her to life.

  Jack and Vivian watched as another smile defeated Claudia’s rigid countenance. She was remembering. Brett Jamison had been a farmhand who once worked for Jack and Viv on the farm. He’d managed the stables for them and was like an uncle to Claudia. He’d taught her how to ride and had been responsible for her love of animals. Brett Jamison had moved to Montana nearly a decade ago, and they knew that Claudia remembered him fondly.

  “I think it’s a great name,” Viv said. “It’s rugged and masculine, yet soft and friendly.”

  Viv continued to eye Jack. Claudia’s smile hadn’t left, and there were no visible objections. Then, Viv asked Jack’s opinion.

  “I like it,” he said. “I always liked Brett. He was like family. I’d be honored to name my great-nephew after him.”

  They looked at Claudia who said nothing.

  “Brett Taylor it is then,” Viv said. “Well, Claudia, we have a name. Do you like it?”

  Claudia looked at them, sustaining a smile that Jack and Viv hadn’t seen in awhile.

  The baby had a name.

  * * * *

  The weeks turned into months. The red, yellow, and orange leaves had fallen to the ground, leaving bare trees that shelved inches of winter’s snowy onslaught. Christmas had come and passed, and the four of them rang in the New Year, 1988, quietly at home. Claudia had become the mother they’d known she would be once the medication began restoring her to the girl they knew and loved. She carried the baby everywhere, sang to him, and by the time spring had arrived, she’d even taken to letting the baby sleep with her in bed.

  Baby Brett had grown like a weed as Jack had predicted. His deep brown eyes were among many slight resemblances he shared with his mother. Jack assumed that many of his features, such as his Romanesque nose, had come from his father, the wild boy that Claudia had the unfortunate circumstance in meeting. Yet if she hadn’t, the little bundle of bliss they were experiencing right now would not have been.

  His laughter was the tug of tiny hands lifting their hearts upward in joy. Jack hadn’t given further thought to Claudia’s prior ravings that the child wasn’t hers. The resemblances to both parents, especially the father, were enough to convince him.

  The Anakas boy had been trouble. He’d been two years older than Claudia, a reckless roundabout who’d given up on school and blended in with a rough party crowd, but regardless of his faults, to Claudia and the rest of the world, his looks had seemed to be his strongest attribute. His piercing sable eyes and handsomely structured and devilish face were tell-tale signs of his gypsy heritage. They were what had drawn Claudia to him in the first place.

  He’d taken advantage of Claudia, much like the other girls he’d seduced so frequently, but the end result was the beautiful baby boy that brought new life onto the premises. When Claudia had told the young man she was pregnant, he, his siblings, and his parents had just disappeared, a whole family abruptly vacated to God only knew where without a word. Just like gypsies, Jack thought, good riddance.

  Their lives soon began to fall back into the normal fold. It was as though Claudia’s emotional episodes had never occurred. As more months passed, Baby Brett had begun to sit up straight and even crawl. He clung to his mother like a young koala. He was cognizant of her, dependent upon her, and his playfulness restored her laughter, a tone they hadn’t heard in ages.

  Until one day, when something changed.

  The scream came from inside the house. Jack and Vivian were in the yard, tending to the lawn. They scrambled up onto the porch as Claudia’s voice called out.

  “Uncle Jack! Aunt Vivian!”

  Claudia came running out onto the porch, clutching them both with a hardened grip.

  “Claudia, what’s wrong?” Vivian’s voice edged upon a complete breakdown of sobs, certain that something terrible had happened.

  Claudia shook uncontrollably as they held her.

  “Inside,” she yelled, pointing beyond the screen door. “Inside!”

  Claudia’s outburst left her heaving deep breaths of panic on the front porch. Jack’s heart sunk to his knees, and the worst thoughts and
images of what lied beyond the door rampaged through his mind. Obviously, something had happened to the baby.

  Jack threw the door open and noticed the baby, wide eyed and observant of his mother’s screams. He was sitting up on the sofa with his baby-blanket surrounding him. His tiny, rounded face stared at Jack in wonder. Claudia gasped when she saw the baby.

  “I don’t understand,” Vivian said, confused.

  “Claudia, what’s wrong?” Jack turned to her. “What happened here?”

  Claudia stared at the baby, and then her wide eyes searched in all directions around the house before turning back to them. She pointed to the baby.

  “I...I saw...”

  “What, Claudia?” Viv said. “What did you see?”

  “There was...”

  Claudia was speechless, her jaw agape.

  “Claudia, what was it?” Jack was fearful that she’d had a setback.

  “A dog!” She snapped. “It was dog, a puppy! It was in his jumper and curled up in his blanket!” She pointed to the baby on the sofa, her voice adamant and persistent, assuming the tone of someone describing a nightmare. “I looked around and couldn’t find him, anywhere.”

  “You saw a dog?” Jack sounded incredulous.

  He walked around and surveyed the living room. There was nothing, no dog or puppy of any kind. He looked over at Vivian, who’d been staring straight at him, her eyes arched, trying against all odds to convey a somewhat telepathic message. This was the moment that seemed to confirm their worst fears that Claudia’s condition had turned to madness.

  But Claudia had been unwavering in her story. She’d gone to the bathroom for only a minute and left the baby on the sofa. When she’d returned, the baby was gone and a puppy was wrapped inside his blanket, but now, she didn’t understand. She couldn’t explain.

  “Uncle Jack, I’m telling you,” she said. “I know what I saw. It was there!”