Chapter 16: Summer Bliss

July 5, 2029

Clark woke up early the next morning barely able to open his eyes. The last two weeks had been a roller coaster of emotions.

Sally and Katie were still sleeping, curled up on either side of him. Standing at the foot of the bed were Fifi and Trish smiling broadly at him. When his eyes met theirs, he gestured with his head for them to come crawl under the warm covers.

The girls didn’t need a second invitation and hopped onto the bed, the commotion and their giggles waking up Sally and Katie.

“Ugh, easy there,” he groaned, gasping for breath, as the two crawled on top of him, digging their knees into his crotch.

“You really do enjoy being surrounded by all your women,” Sally said grinning once they were all snug in his arms. “I bet it makes you feel good being the big daddy bear of this family.”

“Grrr,” he growled, hugging each girl to him and burying his face into their bellies, making them squeal and squirm. “Mmm, that reminds me I need to go hunting soon to make sure these little bellies stay chubby. “Grrr.”

Sally and Katie got out of bed to start breakfast, leaving daddy bear and his cubs to romp, growl, and scream some more under the covers. Exhausted, the girls piled out of bed, their hairs in a tangle, giggling and tugging on Daddy’s arms.

Breakfast was a bowl of oatmeal for each, warm and sweet, smothered with syrup on top, to make everyone feel good to be home together. A cup of black Joe for Clark infused the air with a robust, invigorating aroma. A full-throated sigh of masculine satisfaction followed each sip, reminding all that he was the man of the house.

“Today, I have a surprise for my little munchkins,” he said, bouncing them on his knees. “But, first we have to make more room for Mr. Rooster and his ladies to run around. Who’s going to help?”

“Me, me, me,” the girls shouted, jumping off his lap, each grabbing a hand to lead him outside.

The mesh fencing came with spiked poles which made it very easy and quick to erect. It also made it possible to move the chicken run from time to time to new spots, giving the hens more space to free range during the day. At night, they had to be herded back into their fenced in coop where foxes, opossums and other potential varmints couldn’t get in, and were released to their new run only after they laid their eggs.

The chickens were happy, flapping their wings, making lots of noise, foraging for tasty grass, running after insects, scratching, sunbathing, and moving about with less restrictions. Katie loved it.

During lunch, the girls reminded Clark of his promised surprise. He snuck up to the loft and brought down an old children’s chair he found collecting dust in the attic at the farmhouse. It was big enough for both girls to sit in at the same time. He set about making a tree swing. Once finished, the girls squealed swinging through the air with their feet dangling off the ground like they were going to fly away. Sally and Katie had to take turns keeping up with the demands to be pushed faster and higher.

Clark promised to hang the swing up in the loft and also build a few other play sets such as monkey bars to keep the girls occupied during the long winter months, as well as help build confidence and strength.

Sally and Katie had other ideas and felt Fifi and Trish needed dolls to play with, to help them understand and interact with their world, and to express their feminine traits of empathy and love. Sally and Katie played with dolls and remembered how hugely important it was for speech and language skills, learning the names of the various parts of the body and the use of verbs like eat, drink, sleep, sit, run, and more. Sally also felt it would help the girls prepare for the arrival of Katie’s baby to practice nurturing and caring.

“I was going to make bows and arrows for them to shoot at the crows,” Clark said grinning.

“Ah, don’t be silly,” Sally protested. “Katie and I have been collecting materials to make dolls for the girls’ birthday, but...” There was a look of disappointment on her face, “ ... it’s easier said than done.”

“Don’t say another word,” Clark jumped in. “Give me a moment and I’ll be right back.” He climbed up to the loft and returned with a small cardboard box. “I found this in the attic of the farmhouse and have been holding onto it for the right moment. It might be just the thing the two of you are thinking about.”

Clark slowly opened the box and carefully peeled away the tissue paper, adding mystery to the moment. Sally and Katie gasped with joy as the box revealed two cute Raggedy Ann dolls that probably belonged to Darlene. They wanted to hold and cuddle them in their arms. Instead, each planted a big kiss on Clark’s cheeks. Fifi and Trish were too close and already curious about all the fuss and rustle of paper.

“What else do you have hidden up there?” Sally wanted to know.

August 2

Each week during the month of July, he and Sally had spent at least two, often three days down at the farm tending to the vegetable garden and corn field, bringing up vegetables to be stored in the root cellar.

Today, he was heading down the mountain alone and wanted to enter a stretch of lowland behind the ranch-style house and beyond the stream where there appeared to be a mix of woods and meadows. They needed meat, and there had to be plenty of wild game, small and large, in an area he never explored. He donned his hunting clothes, grabbed a bag of dried fruits and nuts, and set out with his bow.

At his destination, he waded through the tall grass in the backyard along the row of pear trees. He picked a yellow one with blushed skin, rubbed it on his shirt and sank his teeth into it. He didn’t know what variety this was, but it looked like the one Sally’s mom always bought and tasted like it, too. Sweet and juicy, just right for picking.

The grape vines had grown thick around the fence, engulfing it. Large clusters of grapes hung heavy, still dripping with dew, and looked almost ready to be picked, as well.

He reached the stream. It hadn’t rained for many days or very little when it did, yet the stream behind the house was still quit deep. Further upstream, rocks were exposed, allowing him to skip over and easily reach the other side without getting his boots wet.

For hours, he moved from grove to grove, pausing every few minutes to listen to the quiet of nothing, expecting something. All he managed was to spook an occasional rabbit and grouse.

His patience was running low when he heard something larger rustling through the grass, disturbing the bushes. He stopped in his tracks to locate the source. About ten yards ahead, he could see a dark shape moving slowly between the bushes searching for something. It was the size of a small dog and all he could make out was the swish of a tail and the sounds of delighted squeals and satisfied grunts. He took a few steps closer. It was a wild juvenile pig, maybe a year old, with a coat of brown bristles, rooting through the thick layer of leaves.

His ranger friend often commented about the expanding population of wild pigs in the region ever since they were reintroduced from herds down south. Some of the locals weren’t too happy about it as the feral animals tended to tear up gardens and damage crops.

As soon as he came within five yards of the pig, Clark took aim behind the animal’s shoulder and the arrow found its mark. The pig squealed in fear and agony like the proverbial stuck pig. It started to run, but didn’t get far, collapsing and keeling over onto its side.

Before he could bat an eye, he heard a crashing through the bushes and spotted a much larger, bad-ass looking hog running toward the young pig. It had a coat of coarse black bristles, but no tusks. It had to be a sow, the mother of the pig, reacting to protect its young. About a half dozen other juveniles came running behind her. The large animal squealed in desperation and nudged the pig with her snout to get it to stand up. The others stood around staring at their lifeless sibling.

The sow raised her snout to sniff the air and get a sense of where the danger lurked. She belted out a loud grunt and stood her ground to attack if her other offspring were threatened.

Like their domestic cousins, wild hogs had bad eyesight, but very keen ears and an efficient sense of smell. Clark climbed the nearest tree out of precaution in case the sow or another adult picked up his presence and decided to charge him and even the score. Wild hogs, especially mother hogs were extremely dangerous animals; a boar even more so and prone to kill and according to legend eat their victim. There was no arrow mean enough in his quill that could stop either one of them. He would have to carry a high-powered rifle the next time out in this area.

After sniffing the air again, the sow snorted and turned tail, fleeing the scene at high speed with her young boars in tow. Once the sound of stampeding feet faded away, Clark got down from the tree and slung the pig over his shoulders to return to the cabin. It weighed twenty pounds or more of lean meat, but thoughts of bacon danced around in his head. He could already taste it.