Nightfall

by William Woodall

  * * * * * * *

  Life went on pretty normally for the next few months, and when they found out in June that the baby was a boy, Mike immediately wanted to name him Tycho, after Tycho Brahe the famous astronomer. Annabelle was skeptical to say the least.

  “That’s the weirdest, most geeky name I ever heard in my life,” she objected, and he laughed.

  “Well, so what? I’ve heard names a lot more unusual than that,” he said.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you have. Why do you like that awful name so much, anyway?” she asked.

  “Hey, Tycho Brahe was a hero and one of the greatest scientists who ever lived. I want the kid to have somebody to look up to,” he said, but she still looked unconvinced.

  “Hmm. Is that your only reason?” she asked.

  “No. . . there was a Saint Tycho, too, a long time ago in Cyprus. I want him to remember that, too,” he said, on a somewhat more serious note.

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  “I’m sure I could think of some more reasons, if you really want me to,” he said, and she finally laughed.

  “Not gonna give up, are you?” she asked.

  “Nope,” he said.

  “Okay, then, we’ll name him Tycho. My poor, poor baby,” she said, laughing again and shaking her head at the same time.

  “Cool,” he agreed in satisfaction.

  “I do insist on one thing, though,” she said.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “He’s got to have a normal middle name, at least, in case he decides later on he wants to use that instead. Not saying he will; I just want him to have the option, that’s all,” she stipulated.

  “Well. . . all right,” he agreed. He could grudgingly see her point, even if he didn’t like it.

  “What do you think about Nicholas?” she asked.

  “Any special reason for it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, actually there is. That was my father’s name. He was a rebel soldier who never came home, and I also want the kid to have something to look up to,” she said, and he nodded.

  “I agree. That’s perfect,” he said.

  “So, Tycho Nicholas McGrath he will be,” she said.

  And so he was. He was born at the end of October, two weeks after his cousin Jesse James Carpenter, with dark hair and eyes like Annabelle’s. They soon took to calling him Tyke for short, although Annabelle laughed at that, too.

  “Tyke and Mike. How cute. He’s really gonna hate us for that someday when he gets a little older, you know. Watch and see,” she warned, though Mike could tell she wasn’t really serious.

  “Nah, it’ll be all right,” he said.

  On so many different levels, he truly hoped he was right about that.