Free The Mothers of Voorhisville by Mary Rickert Page A

hunger, holding down his pulsing wings; watching the ducks and the clouds and the other mothers (it certainly seems like there are a lot of newborns this summer) and thinking, I would die to protect you; I would kill anyone who would hurt you. Then wondering, Where did that come from?
    But it was true.
    The mothers were lying. They told each other and their loved ones about wellness visits, but none of the mothers actually took their son to a doctor. Because of the wings. Both pediatricians at St. John’s were under the impression that they were losing patients to the other, and each harbored suspicions concerning the guerilla tactics being employed. The lying mothers became obsessed with their sons’ health. Each cough or sneeze or runny nose was the source of much guilt. Nobody wanted to kill her child. That was the point, the reason they had stayed away from doctors: it wasn’t about putting the babies at risk , it was about keeping them safe.
    Friends and relatives concluded that the mothers were protective, coddling, suspicious, and overly secretive. The mothers even concluded this about each other , never suspecting they harbored the same secret.
    â€œThis is impossible,” Theresa Ratcher murmurs to herself the first time she sees little Matthew’s wings blossoming, like some sort of water flower, while she is bathing him in the sink. She touches one tip; feels the searing proof of hot pain; and the next thing she knows, she is standing in the cornfield. She runs to the house as though it is on fire, tumbles into the kitchen, where Elli sits feeding little Timmy. “Where’s Matthew?” Theresa asks. Elli looks at her like she’s nuts. Theresa glances at the sink, which is empty and dry.
    â€œDid you lose him?” Elli asks. “How could you lose him?”
    â€œMatthew!” Theresa runs upstairs. He is there, asleep in the crib. She pats his back, gently. It feels flat. Normal.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Elli stands in the door, Timmy in her arms. “Mom? Are you all right?”
    â€œI had a bad dream.”
    â€œOutside? You fell asleep outside?” Elli asks. “Are you sick?”
    Matthew cries. “I’m not sick,” Theresa says, unbuttoning her blouse. “Before I forget: When is your doctor’s appointment? Did you make that yet? I can’t be keeping track of all this anymore.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it, then,” Elli says, walking down the hall to her room; but when she gets there, it smells like diapers, and flies buzz around the window. Still holding Timmy, Elli walks downstairs and onto the porch.
    Her dad is in the cornfield with the boys he hired for the summer. They aren’t boys Elli knows. They’re from Caldore or Wauseega, her dad can’t remember which. They come to the house for lunch most days and ignore her. Elli knows why. She walks over to the apple tree and spreads Timmy’s blanket on the ground, which is littered with blossoms. She sets him down, then stares at the cornfield, trying to force herself to see it as a field, and not a cemetery. Was her dad nuts? Why’d he bury it out there ? Did he really think she’d be able to eat the corn this year? Elli shakes her head. She looks at Timmy, who lies there grinning. “What’s so funny?” she says, meanly, and then feels bad for it. It is just so hot, and she is so tired. Between the baby eating all the time, and the bad dreams she has of the other one flying into her room and hovering over her bed, she’s exhausted.
    She wakes with a dark shadow standing over her. Elli turns to the empty blanket; then, in a panic, looks up at Theresa, who is standing there, holding Timmy. “You can’t do things like this anymore, Elli,” she says. “You can’t just forget about him. He’s a baby .”
    â€œI didn’t forget about him.”
    â€œLook.” Theresa turns Timmy so that Elli can see