They scampered up the shingles to the crest of the roof, then down to another window, but the curtains were drawn and they couldn’t see a thing. When the Rainmaker started to cry, they knew they’d have to go inside.
It was probably a good thing that Russ had the baby to look after, otherwise he might have just given up. All he did was sit in the rocker by the crib, give the baby his bottle, and rock him when he cried. It was a painful sight for anybody who knew him. Russ Frazier was a man of contagious laughter and boundless optimism. If you needed help, he was the first person you called. If you were feeling down, he’d sit at your kitchen table till you felt better. When your glass was half empty, he was the one who filled it.
Now he was the one in need, and neighbors came streaming over with food and clothes and diapers and toys. The baby lacked for nothing, except what he needed most, his mother.
Betty Woodruff was a quiet comfort to Russ. She and her husband, Charlie, lived one farm over from the Fraziers’, and the families had been close all through the years. In fact, Betty and Russ had gone through high school together. Now she was pregnant, but that didn’t stop her from bringing over a home-cooked meal just about every night.
The Goetz family did most of the farm chores. Emil and Elsie, with the help of their son Neal, irrigated the wheat, milked the cows, collected the eggs, and took care of the pigs and horses. Together, they helped keep the farm on its feet. That’s how it was in Circle, people helping each other without expecting any favors in return.
Three weeks passed, and people up and down the Warbling River plateau were concerned that Russ, lost in his grief, still hadn’t named the baby. Betty stopped over with strawberries and fresh cream, but her real purpose was to discuss the matter of the nameless baby. This indecision was so unlike him. Growing up, Russ had been the first at everything—first to drive a tractor, first to win a blue ribbon at the county fair, he was even the first boy in their class to kiss a girl. She knew that because she was the one he’d surprised with a smooch when they were in the second grade.
Betty was mustering her courage to speak up when the wall ironing board swung down and plunked Russ on the head. It startled them both and they couldn’t help but laugh. When the screen door mysteriously banged open and shut, they laughed even harder. It was a glimpse of the old Russ and she knew right then that he was going to be okay. They spent a fun afternoon trying out names. In the end, Russ decided to name the baby Francis, after his father.
But before going to sleep that night, Russ came upon the book Dolores had last been reading. Paging through it, he found a slip of paper with a list of names in her handwriting, one of which was circled.
Shawn.
It was as if Dolores were touching his shoulder and whispering the name in his ear. That was the last time he cried, thankful that he could fulfill her final wish.
The next morning, Russ bundled up baby Shawn and walked out behind the barn, where the elm and willow trees announced themselves, their buds a brilliant newborn green. Feeling the warmth of the sun on his face, Russ told Shawn about his mother as he gathered some flowers from Dolores’ garden: wild violets, the first of the sweet peas, a few daffodils, and her favorite, the tulips. When his bouquet was complete, he buckled Shawn into the pickup, then traveled the road along the Warbling River into town.
Circle, Illinois, was a thriving place and well loved by its inhabitants. Located on State Highway 99, there were two churches, an elementary school, a Handy Hardware, and a bar called the Willow Lounge. The post office was on the corner next to a little dress shop, All Dressed Up, that Ginny Hawkins kept open when she could. The only restaurant was the Turkey Roost, known for its Thanksgiving dinners all year round, complete with live turkeys in the pen out back.
At the far end of town, Russ gassed up at the Sinclair station, where Roy told a knock-knock joke while cleaning the windshield. Russ returned the favor by narrating a diaper-changing adventure that soon had his friend bent over in laughter. Afterward, Russ went across the street to the Trading Post for groceries. Although it had only been a few weeks since he’d been in town, it felt like a lot longer. His friends, relieved to see him up and about, fawned over the new baby and did their best to act like nothing else had changed.
At the little cemetery just outside of town, Russ placed the spring bouquet on his wife’s grave. He kissed his son on the top of his head and tried to be thankful for all that was good in his life. “Let’s get home, little one.”
On the way back, Russ decided to do something he should have done weeks before. As he pulled into the Woodruffs’ drive, Betty and Charlie came out to greet him. Betty rocked Shawn on the porch swing, while Russ and Charlie settled on the steps with muffins and fresh cups of coffee.
“Shawn and I have been wanting to thank you for that beautiful mobile you carved,” said Russ.
“Mobile?” asked Charlie, puzzled.
“Yeah, the one you left on my porch—little elves around an acorn. It’s a work of art.”
“I’d like to see it, but I sure didn’t carve it.”
“Well, if you didn’t, who did?”
“Beats me,” said Charlie as he got up and went into the kitchen. “But we do have a little gift for Shawn.” He returned with a wooden rattle decorated with fanciful farm animals in pink and blue. “I carved it and Betty did the painting.”
“It’s from that cherry tree Emil lost in the tornado last year,” added Betty.
Russ gave it a playful shake. “The tree lives on!”
Betty laughed. “If he breaks it, you can plant a new one—those are cherry seeds inside.” She kept Shawn busy with the rattle while Russ and Charlie continued to speculate about who else might have made the mobile, but the identity of the carver remained a mystery.
When Russ got home, he rigged the mobile to the crib rail. He jiggled it, and Shawn watched the elfin figures dance around the Crystal Acorn, just above his head. Russ was having so much fun playing with his son that he barely heard the knock. He went to the back door, where he found Betty holding up a small Snow White lamp. “Look what I found in my attic—a young lady on the lookout for seven little elves. Seen any hanging around?” she joked.
Russ laughed, welcoming her into the kitchen. “Now that you mention it, I have noticed some characters that fit the description. C’mon, let’s introduce everybody.”
They whistled the chorus to “Whistle While You Work” while Russ clamped Snow White onto the crib next to the elves. The paint was a little tarnished, but when Betty popped in two double AAs and turned on the lamp, the bulb under Snow White’s skirt cast a warm glow on Shawn’s face and the soft red quilt his mother had made.
Now that he was a single dad with a newborn son, Russ found that working the farm was a lot more complicated. He usually tried to keep Shawn with him, toting him in a baby carrier on his back. On the days he couldn’t, he left him with Betty. Each night, after the work was finished, Russ spent the whole evening with Shawn and soon learned to decipher every giggle, gurgle, and grunt. But even with Betty’s contributions, raising a baby was more work than he could have imagined. Little did he know he was getting some help on the side.
Root and Runnel had become expert at secreting themselves under beds, inside closets and cupboards, atop curtain rods, behind furniture, and just about any other place an eleven-inch-tall Puddlejumper could think to hide. Whenever Russ was busy or distracted or asleep in the chair next to the crib, they were there to rock the baby to sleep or give him a fresh bottle, burp him, and even change his diapers.
Shawn’s eyes always sparkled when they arrived. He loved the warmth of their tiny webbed hands, their earthy smell, and the melodic sound of their voices. Root and Runnel were part of his life, like his red quilt, toy tractor, and the mobile on his crib—and as much a part of his family as his dad.
Everything was going according to Puddlejumper plan, until the morning the baby inexplicably began to cry…and cry, and cry…that whole day and all throu
gh the night. Something was very wrong.
After a thorough examination, Doc Thorpe diagnosed colic. The gripe water he prescribed to settle the baby’s tummy had no effect. Nor did any of the home remedies Betty suggested. Not knowing what else to do, Russ tried to comfort Shawn by gently rubbing his belly and singing old nursery rhymes. He spent hours carrying the baby around the house. Still he cried.
When the exhausted father finally passed out on the living room couch, Root and Runnel climbed to the peak of the house. Root pulled an acorn cap from a pouch on his belt and, forming a V with his thumbs, blew an urgent whistle to the horizon. Shawn’s wail resounded from the nursery as they sat atop the old weather vane, and waited.
CHAPTER FIVE
Night Visitors
PAV ARRIVED just after midnight. She had a shock of white hair and piercing green eyes and, at fifteen inches, towered over Root and Runnel. She was the only Puddlejumper ever born without webbed hands and feet, and rarely swam because she couldn’t keep up with the others. Instead she spent a lot of time in the Up Above collecting plants, roots, bark, and minerals. Whenever a Jumper was hurt or sick, she always knew the right combination of elements to make a curative salve or a restorative soak. She was like a spring-fed lake, calm on the surface with waters that ran clear and deep.
Pav immediately went to work inspecting the baby. He cried as she prodded and poked, peeled back his lids and read his irises, blew in his ears and looked up his nose and tweaked the joints of his fingers and toes. Cooing softly, she pinched precise portions of pollens and herbs from pouches on her belt. She added shavings of water moccasin skin and a mosquito stinger, then mixed everything in her chestnut urn. After dissolving the concoction in an acorn cap of milk, she used a hollow reed to blow the medicine down the baby’s throat.
Before departing, Pav gave Runnel a poison oak balm for his diaper rash and an otter-milk formula for his daily feeding.
In the morning, Russ found the baby in his crib with a big smile on his face. The change in his demeanor was like night to day. Russ wondered if Shawn had a guardian angel or if Dolores were helping them from the other side. He was so relieved that he lifted Shawn above his head and waltzed around the room, singing, “Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day, I’ve got a wonderful feeling, Shawn’s tears have all gone away.” As usual, there was an audience of two hidden behind the changing table. Root and Runnel had never seen him so happy.
Shawn’s sudden cure from the colic was a mystery, but then there were other strange occurrences for which Russ had no explanation. For several weeks he hadn’t been getting as much milk from his cows. He regularly gave extra milk to the Woodruffs, but now there was barely enough for his cereal. For the first time in years, he had to buy the store-bought variety in town. Sometimes he found the cartons sitting empty in the refrigerator. One night he came upon a puddle of milk near the open fridge door. There was just no explaining it.
There was also no explaining the toys that somehow found their way back into the baby’s hands after he’d put them away. Or the voices he sometimes heard coming from the nursery, as if Shawn were in a conversation with someone. Or the puddles he’d found in different places around the farm. They appeared out of nowhere and seemed to persist day after day, even without a drop of rain. There was one near the corral and another one behind the barn, and it hadn’t rained in a week.
When Doc Thorpe stopped by to check on Shawn, he and Russ visited the puddles together. “Could they be seeping up from an underground spring?” wondered Doc.
“I doubt it,” said Russ. “It’s not just one spot. They’re here, there, and everywhere.”
They went inside to play a game of chess. Pitch stayed behind, staring at the corral puddle. When Doc left an hour later, the dog was still there, sticking her nose in and out of the water like she was bobbing for apples. Both men shared a good laugh over that one.
When Shawn was three months old, another Puddlejumper came to the Up Above. His name was Cully. He was a scout who’d traveled farther from the Kingdom than any other living Jumper and was famous for telling stories that lasted whole days. He was agile and quick, which surprised everyone, because he was built like a stump. He loved to eat and drink, and his big belly shook when he laughed.
It was the night of the full moon when Cully made his first visit. He’d come to initiate Shawn into the ways of the Puddlejumper tribe. Perched on either side of Snow White, Root and Runnel could hear Pitch wagging her tail at the foot of the crib and Russ’ snores from the other room. Cully gripped the baby’s finger and began to whisper, his voice rippling like a quiet stream past Shawn’s ear, “Wawaywo, listen, I’ve come to tell you about the Beginning. We were pebbles at the bottom of the ocean when a blue whale took us in her belly and brought us to MotherEarth. There we lived a thousand years, until we plunged down the great waterfall, where we were born rolling and tumbling all the way to the river.”
Root and Runnel listened intently from the crib rail. Like all Puddlejumpers, they loved to hear their tribal lore. Though they knew the baby couldn’t yet understand their language, they were convinced the meaning would find a way into his heart and soul.
“Wawaywo, I want to tell you about the rain, the rain that feeds us and brightens our spirits with its lively patter and sweet smell. Rain fills the streams and rivers, every lake and well. It washes everything clean and brings the earth to life.” Shawn listened, entranced by Cully’s soothing voice. “But there are those who hate what we love most.”
Root and Runnel shuddered.
“Troggs,” he whispered. “Troggs are big—bigger than anything you’ve ever seen. They crush and kill everything in their path. As sure as the acorn drops from the tree, they will come to find us. Nothing can stop them, except the rain. When it rains, Troggs bury themselves in the ground and howl and curse. Thunder scares them and lightning blinds their eyes. They hate the rain, they hate even water itself, every drop, and because we are the caretakers of the water, they hate us most of all.”
Shawn began to fidget, almost as if he could understand.
“A day is coming when you will journey to the Most Dark, a terrible Trogg wasteland where sap never runs and water never flows and the fires burn hot and forever. Wawaywo—you will lead us in battle against the Troggs. You are the Rainmaker.”
When the baby started to cry, Cully fell silent.
In the nights to come, he would tell other stories, happier ones, but tonight the truth needed to be told. As the sun came up, ending the first night of Shawn Frazier’s education, Cully did his best to make the baby laugh. When funny faces didn’t work, he stood on his head and spit acorns. Shawn giggled for the first time and Root and Runnel laughed so hard they fell right off the rail.
Fixing a bottle in the kitchen, a sleepy Russ heard something hit the floor in the nursery. He hurried in, but all he found was Shawn in his crib fingering an acorn. Mystified, he took it away before the baby could swallow it, then noticed three more right next to him. How on earth did acorns end up in Shawn’s crib?
After a week of temperatures nearing one hundred degrees, a warm rain drenched the Warbling River plateau. Root went out to collect fresh rainwater for Shawn’s bath from the puddle behind the barn. Glad to be out of the house and in the rain, he was catching droplets on his tongue when another Puddlejumper suddenly burst through the puddle. Root ducked, barely avoiding the Jumper’s landing.
It was Chop. At nine inches, he was the smallest Puddlejumper. He was also the most irrepressible, and now he was speaking so fast that Root couldn’t understand him. Root made him take a breath and slow down.
“Ma bata-pa, Wawaywo,” he declared emphatically. Chop wanted to see the Rainmaker. Root knew he’d left the Kingdom without permission and had jumped against explicit instructions, but he also knew he’d be impossible to turn away. He decided to allow him a glimpse of the baby, but only if he agreed to return immediately afterward to the Underneath.
As this wa
s Chop’s first experience with humans, Root expected him to be as cautious as he’d been. Instead, he made a beeline for the house, racing ahead through the rain. Root caught him just before he barged into the kitchen, where Russ was making breakfast. He made Chop dry his feet so he wouldn’t track mud across the floor. When Russ opened the fridge, they scampered past him and down the hall.
Runnel rarely lost her temper, but when she saw Chop, she spun like a top, leapt into the air, somersaulted, and landed on his chest, pinning him to the carpet. She was steaming mad—if they were discovered, the human might take the baby away. When Root explained that he’d already agreed to let Chop see Wawaywo, she reluctantly stepped aside. She knew that Root wouldn’t go back on his word.
Chop zipped up the leg of the crib, where he stared wide-eyed, almost forgetting to breathe. When Shawn reached out and grabbed his hand, Chop nearly fainted. Runnel, quick to forgive, offered Root a knowing smile, remembering their first encounter with the Rainmaker.
At the sound of Russ’ approaching footsteps, the Puddle-jumpers scattered. Camouflaged among some stuffed animals, Root and Runnel watched, horrified, as Chop made the mistake of hiding in the diaper pail. They remained perfectly still while Russ changed Shawn’s diaper, but could barely look when he opened the bucket’s lid with a foot pedal and dropped the messy diaper inside. It landed with a squishy thud.
Later, after Root and Runnel finally got him cleaned up, they escorted Chop back to the puddle to make sure he returned to the Underneath.
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