The bulk of this story occurs several years before the manga or anime begin.
Note: I do not own Trigun or "Vash the Stampede": they belong to the incomparable Mr. Yasuhiro Nightow.
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The Second Man
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Chapter 9: Friends
Year 0092 month 2 day 17
When I awoke this morning, Vash was just returning from his morning trip to the restroom. He had one hand on the hallway wall, and was looking toward the floor with a frown of concentration. He was walking slowly, but he was moving a little more naturally than he had yesterday, and a little less as if he was in serious pain.
With his broken ribs, that was unlikely to change quickly. It would probably take him several weeks before he was moving normally again.
Although he still wore his pajamas, Vash had already shaved. He'd also brushed or combed his hair so that it stood straight up from his head … again. I think he looks better when his hair isn't standing up like broom-bristles. But it's his hair, so he can make it look anyhow he likes.
Vash had started wearing a pajama top on Thursday morning, in addition to his pajama bottoms and bandages that he'd already been wearing. He had changed into "daytime clothes" before his first walk outside, on Friday afternoon. He'd changed out of his pajamas again yesterday, just before breakfast arrived.
He wouldn't let me help him change his clothes. While he changed was the only time when he would close his bedroom door.
It took him a long time to change, because he had to be careful of his injuries. Even so, he could still finish changing more quickly than I could. Because both of his hands work.
"Good morning," I said to him from my doorway, as I rubbed at my still-sleepy eyes.
He raised his face and smiled at me, with the usual result. I tried to ignore the heat I felt burning in my face, since I couldn't do anything about it.
"Good morning, Martha," he said amiably.
"Since you've already cleaned up some, I'm guessing that you might still want to go to church with us?" I said.
"I should go," he said, and nodded.
"Should?" I said, a little confused. "If you don't want to go..."
A corner of his mouth quirked upward. It shaped his mouth into his lopsided grin.
"I can't let them forget 'the second man' quite yet," he said softly. "I'm sure they'll forget me soon enough, but I want them to continue remembering the lesson after I leave."
"I will never forget you," I said loyally. I quickly added, hopefully before another blush could take over my face, "Is there anything I can do to help you get ready?"
"After breakfast," he said, "if it's not too much trouble, then some assistance with my shoes. If I don't have to bend over so much, it would help a lot."
"In that case, I should help with your socks, too," I said.
He frowned. "Please don't take this the wrong way," he said carefully, "but wouldn't that be a pain in the backside, since you only have one working hand?"
"Sally brought me a gadget, a few years ago, that makes socks easy to get on," I said, smiling. "Here, I'll show you."
I turned and hobbled to the place where I kept it by the foot of my bed. He came to stand in my doorway, and watched quietly. I showed him how it sat solidly on the floor, and could be made to pinch one side of the sock as a clothespin would. That allowed me to hold the other side of the sock with my good hand, while slipping a foot in.
"See how easy that is?" I said, looking up from my task to smile at him again.
"It's worked metal," he said thoughtfully, "like something a blacksmith would make."
"Yes," I said. "I don't know where Sally comes up with the ideas for these things, but they sure do come in handy."
"Like the stand you put wet dishes into, when you towel them dry," he said. "I've noticed that you have several unusual blacksmithed items scattered all around the house. They all seem designed to make living with one hand easier. How long has Sally been bringing these things to you?"
I thought about it briefly, and then answered. "They do help, a lot. And... she's been bringing them, on and off, for about five years," I said.
Vash still looked thoughtful. "Didn't you say that Fred is a blacksmith's apprentice?" he said. "How long has he been doing that?"
"About six years," I said.
At first, I didn't see how Vash's question about Fred's blacksmithing had anything to do with anything. Then I mentally connected the dots...
"Wait a minute! Don't you go on thinking what I see you're thinking, you hear?" I said. "Fred may be more polite to me, in person, than some of the others. But he still ridicules me, when I'm not around."
"What makes you say that?" Vash asked. He sounded only curious, not disbelieving.
"Last summer," I said, blushing from shame, "Fred broke his leg while trying to ride a Thomas using only one hand. When they were taking him to the hospital, to get his broken bone set, he was grumbling about me. Different people, who were there, have all said that he kept repeating my name."
Vash's eyebrows raised a little. "Oh, really," he said. Then he looked thoughtful again. "Maybe he wasn't mocking you, though. There could be another explanation."
"Yeah, well, there might," I conceded, "but I sure can't think of any. As far as I can recall, Fred never even spoke to me before he came with his mother for breakfast on the morning before the funeral."
"Maybe he's just shy, like Mr. Darcy," Vash said, grinning
"You're teasing me!" I said, both delighted by the novelty and a little embarrassed by the subject matter.
"Yes," Vash said, "and I'm also making a point."
"Mr. Darcy was proud," I said, "even if he wasn't arrogant like some people mistakenly thought of him."
"That didn't stop him from liking Elizabeth," Vash said.
"Maybe not," I said, "but it sure messed up his ability to tell her about it."
Vash's fading grin suddenly grew wider. "Exactly my point," he said. "And Fred is the only young man who has come here, helping to bring a meal."
"His sisters were probably just busy that morning, perhaps with his younger brother," I said. "Little Danny wasn't among the children that Sally and I were watching in the jail that day, so he might have been out at the O'Dell farm. If he was, the poor little fellow is probably frightened half out of his mind. I noticed that they didn't have him at the funeral, nor was the eldest of Fred's three sisters there. Come to think on it, most of the little kids who weren't at the jail that day weren't at the funeral, either."
"If only the eldest sister was needed to tend the child during the funeral," Vash said, "then it seems unlikely that more would be needed during breakfast. And hadn't you said that you've been learning your schoolwork at home for eight years? That's a long time for Fred to remember that you're smart."
I opened my mouth to protest, but without any clear idea of what I would say, when there was a knock on the front door downstairs.
Relieved, I said, "That's probably breakfast. Shall we go down and see?"
It was indeed breakfast, brought by another concerned and curious townswoman... and she was accompanied by her daughter, not her son.
Dusty came down as we were setting the table. He was dressed, but he hadn't shaved nor was his hair combed. That was how everyone who brought breakfast to us, except for Clara Brown, had seen him.
I immersed myself in the flurry of activity swirling around me, while trying to avoid thinking about any of the things that Vash had just said. However, my mind doesn't like to avoid things. Instead, it wants to pick at them. With nothing else to focus my thoughts upon, my mind kept turning to things Vash had said, just before breakfast arrived.
I was convinced that Vash must be mistaken about Fred. He was drawing conclusions from unrelated coincidences. That was all. I had to admit that, without any other information, those unrelated coincidences could look a bit like they might be connected. However, those unconnected circumstances couldn't possibly mean anything like what Vash seemed to think they might mean.
Maybe Sally had commissioned Fred to make those things. Buying from Fred would be less expensive than buying from Mr. Brown. It would also give Fred an opportunity to improve his craft. That's the type of thoughtful thing that Sally would be likely to do.
I quickly set aside Vash's ridiculous ideas about Fred, and recalled his earlier statement about how he expected that everyone in the village would soon forget him. That made my insides twist. It sounded like he meant to leave, soon, and worse – never return.
Vash had spoken again, briefly, about wishing to continue his interrupted pursuit of the murderer. From the way that he set his jaw, and the look in his eyes, as he spoke of that pursuit... I knew that he would never allow anything (or anyone) to stop him from catching and dealing with that other man.
I'd seen that same expression on his face when he decided to sit up, or to use the bathroom unaided, or to get dressed, or to walk a few steps without leaning on me. No matter how many times his body failed him, he would pause to catch his breath – and then he would try again. There was a determination about him, in those moments, that could not be overcome by anything. He would not stop, until he succeeded.
So, as much as I disliked it, and as much as it hurt to think about it, I knew that Vash would leave us. Vash would go out into the desert to pursue the murderer, until he was brought to justice. That pursuit was his first priority.
However, if he had any plans after that, he never mentioned them. I hoped that I might encourage him to make some plans about returning here.
I would miss Vash when he went away. In fact, I almost missed him already.
There must have been some amount of small talk around the table as we ate, but I can't recall a single word of it. I was pondering what I could say that might convince Vash that we would never forget him. I also thought about encouraging him to return to us, after his other work was done. I just couldn't puzzle out what to say to him about it.
After breakfast, we all climbed the stairs and distributed to our various rooms to prepare for church.
Since George Hansen's wife had brought dinner yesterday night, she went back with a message requesting that Ike would bring his wagon and give us a ride to church. (Ike is her brother-in-law, from being her husband's brother. He is brother in law to Dusty and me, from being married to our sister.) Dusty and I both expected the wagon to arrive punctually, probably already carrying Jane and their five newly-adopted children.
We all hurried to get ready, so that Ike wouldn't be stuck waiting for us. Since Ike tended to get impatient and grouchy, we were highly motivated to be ready when he arrived.
Vash got himself dressed, and then he opened his door. I was nearly ready, so when I heard his door open, I hurried to finish dressing. I opened my own door as soon as I had my dress set to rights. Then I took the sock-helper gadget into his room, and helped him into his socks and shoes.
Thankfully, he'd not chosen to wear his boots from his "1001 straps and buckles" outfit. Fastening those would have taken longer than using the gadget that helped me tie shoes.
Vash was wearing the same clothes today as he'd worn to the funeral. It was a good thing that I'd gotten the stains out! I was glad that he didn't mind wearing those clothes again after I'd tended to them.
As anticipated, Ike arrived punctually. Vash, Dusty and I were ready to go when he arrived, so we all climbed into the back of the wagon with the kids.
Our village's church is right by the Plant. When we arrived, Vash caught at my shoulder and tipped his head toward the Plant. So when we got off Ike's wagon, I wasn't surprised that Vash began walking toward the Plant instead of toward the church.
"We'll miss Sunday School," I said. I'd thought that he wanted to attend.
"Hopefully, God will forgive you, if you miss it today," he said lightly. Then, more softly, as if he were saying a prayer or an oath, he added, "If not, then may He put all the blame and punishment on me, where it belongs."
Did Vash really think that missing Sunday School was such a terrible sin? And did he truly think God worked like that?
"I'm sure that God would forgive us for missing Sunday School," I said, "but can't this wait until after?"
"Maybe," he said, "but I've already put it off for so long... waiting longer would be worse than rude, especially now that I'm so close."
"I don't understand," I said.
"Come on," he said. "It's easier to show than explain."
"Okay," I said.
He wasn't leaning on me as heavily as before. He'd returned to linking arms when we walked around the house, instead of leaning his arm across my shoulders. I had gradually become more like a cane than like crutches, and he kept leaning on me less and less.
We walked into the fenced-off area that surrounded the huge bulb. As we drew closer, the bulb began to glow. At first, I thought that glow was only my imagination, but it grew bright enough that, by the time we reached the bulb, I knew the glow was real.
Vash let go of me, and placed his hands on the glass. "Hello there, sister," he said softly.
The orb inside the bulb opened, and a woman with wings came out. She smiled, and moved toward him until she could place her hands against his, though on her own side of the glass.
She wasn't wearing anything. With few exceptions, she looked much like any ordinary woman. She had wings. Her eyes were strange, lacking irises. Her wrists and ankles were unusually thin. If she came out of the bulb, where she floated, she probably could not support her own weight enough to walk (or even crawl) with such slender limbs.
"Yetta, meet Martha," Vash said. "Martha, this is Yetta."
"Pleased to meet you," I said, nodding toward her.
She looked at me and nodded, before returning her attention to Vash. I felt more as if I was in a dream than as if I was seeing something which was really happening.
"Vash," I said softly, "How did she get in there? Is she an angel?"
"She is the Plant, Martha," he said. "I can see that your village really has been trying to take good care of her. She has no black hair at all."
"Black hair?" I said, puzzled.
I'd never had any idea that a lady lived inside that bulb. This was a lot to take in all at once. It changed so many things!
"Instead of turning grey, as your hair would," he said, "when Plants run low on energy (which we need to do those things that only Plants can do), our hair turns black. After that happens, if we continue spending our internal Plant energy, we will die."
I looked at her, and saw that her hair really was all pale. I felt relieved by that. There seemed to be a bluish cast inside the bulb, so it was difficult to tell what color her hair and skin would be without it. Even so, she was radiantly beautiful.
"She's beautiful," I said, impulsively saying that part of my thoughts.
"Yes," he said. "Over the years, I've visited most of the Plants on this world. Every one whom I've met is beautiful in her own way."
My gaze was held by the Plant-lady, but I could hear a smile in his voice as he spoke.
"Do you mean that every Plant bulb has a lady living inside it?" I said, surprised. "Are they all named Yetta?"
"The lady is the Plant," he repeated patiently, "not the bulb, nor the orb that she may spend most of her time inside. And each has her own name."
"I never knew that," I said softly. "Can she understand us?"
"Yes," he said. "If you speak to her, she will understand."
"Thank you, Yetta, for all that you give us," I said bashfully.
She looked away from Vash long enough to nod at me again. She smiled, slightly.
"Can she speak?" I asked.
"She speaks with her mind, or with gestures, or through the computer," he said.
"It's too bad that nobody can hear her," I said sadly.
"I can," Vash said. "Martha, I'm more like her than like you."
I blinked, and managed to look away from Yetta just enough to see Vash's face. He was still looking at Yetta. There was such openness in his facial expression! He couldn't possibly be lying, or, at least... not lying on purpose. He might be mistaken, though.
I thought about what he'd said. He'd called her "sister." He'd said "our hair" and "we" when he talked about Plants' hair turning black.
"It sounds like you might be saying..." I began, but the idea seemed so strange that I slowed down and stopped before I could bring myself to put it all into words.
"Yes," he said. "I'm a Plant, not an ordinary human like you. I tried to warn you that I'm older than I look. I'm almost as old as Yetta."
"But she's been alive since..." again, I suddenly found the words difficult to say.
"Since before the Great Fall, yes," he said. "She helped power one of the ships, before they all crashed here."
I looked at Yetta again, and saw that her attention was still on Vash.
"Has she been worried about you, too?" I asked.
"A little," he said, "though mostly because she sensed that I was nearby but I had not come to visit her. She lives and thinks differently from ordinary humans, but she's not so different that you can't be friends."
To be friends with a Plant-lady, someone whom I hadn't even known existed until today – the idea was a bit mind-blowing. But there was something about Yetta's face, and a kind look in her smile, that made it seem possible... even with her wings and her strange eyes.
"How can I be her friend?" I said. "I can't go in there, and she probably can't come out."
"Just visit her sometimes, like you're doing now," he said. "Put your hands on the glass, gently – don't tap – and then speak her name, or sing to her. Even if you never say anything else, only her name... she will understand, and she will appreciate the visit."
"I think I can do that, at least sometimes," I said.
"Good," he said.
I was quiet for a long time, thinking over everything I'd just learned as I continued looking at Yetta.
Finally I said, "If you're a Plant, Vash, do you also have angel wings?"
Somehow, the idea of Vash with angel wings didn't seem as incongruous as that same idea would seem with Dusty, or Ike, or anybody else that I knew.
He laughed. "I suppose I might have Plant wings, like she does," Vash said. "I really don't know. I've never tried to use any abilities that Plants have, but normal people don't. I've been content to live like any ordinary human."
"You're not ordinary," I said. "You're much more kind, and generous, and..." Suddenly there was a lump in my throat, and I couldn't say anything more.
"There are plenty of people like that," he said. "You, for one."
"Me?" I said, surprised.
"You were a friend to me," he said, "before any one else in this village would even consider the possibility that I might not have killed all of your friends and family."
I stood silently, because I couldn't think of anything to say. I just listened.
"You were the only one who pleaded with them to stop beating me, and instead to look after my injuries," he continued. "And you didn't stop there! You stayed with me, both in the jail and at the hospital. You've continued looking after me, and helping me, even when it hurt you. You've more than proven yourself a friend to me, Martha. I owe you."
All of my carefully-prepared questions were useless. I hadn't needed to ask him anything. He'd just told me what I needed to know.
"You don't owe me anything! I just tried to do what was right," I said. "Now, I'm happy to do whatever you need. It's nice to have you around, since you're such good company."
As soon as I said the words, they sounded lame even in my own ears. I wished I could think of better words to express all that I thought and felt. Unfortunately, those words were the best that I could think of at the time.
"Me?" Vash said, sounding surprised. "I'm about as ordinary as it gets, aside from the fact that I'm not exactly a regular human."
"I'm still getting used to the idea that you might be something other than a normal human," I admitted, "but you were never merely 'ordinary.' You're someone special."
"I am nothing and nobody," he said softly. "I'm less than ordinary, and less than human."
"Not less, more!" I protested.
He took a hand off the glass to pat my shoulder. "It's kind of you to be so loyal," he said, "but you've only known me for a few days. In time, you might change your mind."
"I don't think so," I said firmly. "I've seen you in the worst possible conditions, and you... well, you shine. You're a good person, Vash. I'm proud to be your friend."
"Thank you," he said softly, "for saying that and meaning it."
We were both silent for a time, as we kept company with each other and with Yetta.
"We should probably get back," he said. "Sunday School only lasts for an hour, doesn't it? If so, it's about time for the more formal church service to begin."
"Has it been an hour already?" I said.
"Nearly," Vash said.
"Then we should return," I said. "We can visit Yetta again after, or next week."
"Farewell, for now," he said to Yetta. He turned to me and said, "Let's go."
Yetta waved, and then withdrew back into her orb. The bulb's glow quickly faded.
We left the area surrounding the Plant, and went back to the church. People were beginning to fill the benches, and we chose seats in about the middle of the building.
The music was unable to stir me from my thoughts about the visit to the Plant. I had too much to think about. I couldn't really pay attention, not as I should. It still felt unreal, as if I'd walked into and out of a dream - without going to sleep, or waking up.
The sermon, most of which I was too preoccupied to hear, was about the parable of "The Good Samaritan."
That subject was probably chosen to honor "the Second Man." I turned my head and smiled at him, and was rewarded with an answering smile. I looked quickly at my lap, and waited for the heat to fade from my face.
For what seemed the hundredth time, I hoped he hadn't noticed that I'd blushed.
I remembered that, in the time it was written, a "Samaritan" was a half-breed, an outcast. Yet that outcast had been the only one to help the man who'd been robbed. Just as Vash – an outsider, to this village – had been the one to help Hank O'Dell and Mildred McCall. Even though he came too late to save Mildred's life, he had tried.
Vash's arrival had also driven off the murderer.
My thoughts went back to pondering the idea that Vash might not be the same kind of human as everyone else. He said he was a Plant, like Yetta. But he wasn't in a bulb, and his eyes looked like human eyes. Oh, his irises were a moderately unusual color, but, aside from that detail, they looked just as human as the eyes I saw every time I looked into a mirror.
I wasn't sure what to believe. After thinking about it during the sermon, I decided to visit the bulb again. I would find out if Yetta would come out again. If she did, that might help me to know what to think.
I reached that conclusion just as the closing hymn finished. I listened with quiet reverence as the benediction was pronounced, and rose to leave along with everyone else.
"I see someone I'd like a word with," Vash said softly, near my ear. "I'll meet you out front in a few."
Before I could respond, I heard, "Maffa!" behind me. It was Danny Turner, with his chubby little arms stretched up toward me.
I carefully gathered up the toddler into my arms, resting his seat against my left forearm and spreading my right hand against his back as he hugged me. I wistfully watched while Vash leaned noticeably, if not heavily, on the bench-backs with each step. It took a bit before I realized that he was working his way toward Fred.
Oh, no! Was Vash still thinking about that nonsense he'd come up with this morning, about Fred?
"Maffa!" Danny said by my ear, sounding happy.
"I'm glad to see you, too, Danny," I said gently.
I was fond of Danny, as I was fond of all the little children in our village. I couldn't help it. These little ones could be both tiring and frustrating, at times, but they were also endearing. I hugged the little fellow, though still wishing that I'd been able to dissuade Vash from going to talk with Fred. I was nervous about what Vash might say, if those silly ideas from earlier this morning were still in his head.
I saw several people begin to surround Vash, and felt a smile spreading over my face. Maybe Vash wouldn't find time to talk about anything awkward with Fred, after all.
"I should have known," Mrs. Turner said. Her voice came from behind me.
I turned around so that I could see her. She was smiling.
"Danny's been asking for you all week," she said. "Would you be willing to watch him this afternoon, so that my family can all assist with the harvest? I'm sure he will be fine, with you and the second man both looking after him. One of us will come to get him this evening, if you agree. It would really be a big help to us, Martha. Will you? Please?"
"I... I suppose I could," I said uncertainly.
"Oh, thank you!" Mrs. Turner said. "Will you need a ride home?"
"Ike and Jane brought us," I said. "I think they plan to take us home, too."
"I'll just put Danny's things into their wagon, then," she said. "I really appreciate this!"
"Okay, anytime," I found myself saying as she walked away.
Danny wouldn't let go of my neck, so I began hobbling toward the front doors. I looked toward Vash. He remained surrounded by well-wishers, most of whom were the village's unmarried females around 19-26 years old. Fred was halfway across the room from him.
I found myself grinning with relief. Vash wasn't very likely to find any time to chat with Fred, not with so many girls fluttering around him!
Several of the youngest children were missing from the service, along with several mothers and older sisters. Everyone must still be nervous, after the attack.
It wasn't long before Ike had all of us loaded into the back of his wagon, except for Vash.
As Ike asked, "Where in tarnation has that 'Second Man' got himself off to?" Vash suddenly appeared in the church's doorway.
Dusty slid off the end of the wagon, and helped Vash get in. As soon as both were seated, we started back for home.
When we arrived at the house, Dusty tried to help with Danny. But the sleepy baby refused to let go of my neck. So, instead, my brother carried Danny's things in for me. Ike got off the driver's seat to help Vash get inside the house.
I was relieved that nothing had happened to cause Vash any further setbacks, at least not during that trip. We'd gotten him to church, and back again, safely.
Ike took Vash to the bigger couch in the front room, the one that sat under the window. Vash sat down and sighed, as Ike nodded a farewell to each of us and then returned to his family waiting in the wagon.
I didn't know if anyone was bringing lunch. However, I did know that we didn't want to have a fully recharged toddler when that lunch came. He wouldn't be able to hold still long enough to eat. So I set sleepy little Danny down in the middle of the front room.
I sat on the floor, by the small couch with its back resting against the side of the stairs. I rested my back against the front of that littler couch, and crossed my legs so that each knee rested on the opposite leg's foot. I smoothed my skirt to cover my lap and knees, and then extended my right hand toward my young charge.
"Danny," I said playfully, wiggling my fingers toward him, "I can't reach you."
Danny's sleepy expression transformed from a yawn to a grin. He giggled, let go of his blanket, and pushed himself up from his sitting position onto his feet. He toddled to about a finger's length out of my reach, and giggled again. Then he dashed toward me as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him, giggling loudly.
I caught him and tickled his ribs and stomach just long enough to elicit shrieks of delight and more giggles, and then I released him so that he could back away if he wanted to. He did run off, but I knew that wouldn't last long.
"Aww, I can't reach you," I said, pretending to be sad. I extended my right arm and wiggled my fingers toward him again.
We continued playing Danny's favorite game. I repeated my protests about being unable to reach him, whenever he moved away. He would always come nearer to me, grinning or giggling, to get more tickles.
Sometimes he'd crawl backwards when he came near, so that I could tickle his feet. Other times, he'd reach out a hand and I would make a show of tickling that. Most times, though, he got his body into range so that I could tickle his ribs or stomach.
Dusty had gone upstairs to change into work clothes. He would be helping with the harvest this afternoon, as he had on his other days off from being a deputy. Vash continued sitting on the larger couch, watching and smiling as I played with Danny.
Suddenly Danny realized that there was another adult in the room, who wasn't playing with him. Apparently, the little fellow felt this was a situation in need of fixing.
He boldly toddled over to Vash and declared, "Maffa cat weech. You cat weech!"
Vash's eyebrows went up a little, but he was still smiling.
Before Vash could respond, or I could tell him that he didn't need to play the game if he didn't want to, there was a knock on the door.
"I'll get that," I said.
I began the process of getting up, by leaning forward onto my right hand and my knees, when an unhappy sound came from my small guest.
"Maffa cat weech!" Danny protested.
"We can play more, after I take care of our visitor at the door," I told him.
"Up, Maffa," Danny said. He came toward me with his arms outstretched.
"Okay," I said. "Let me get up first, and then I can pick you up."
I shifted my balance from right hand and both knees to right hand and right knee, while moving my left leg to get that foot firmly placed on the ground. When that was accomplished, I moved my right hand off the floor and onto the seat of the couch, and began pushing myself up so that I could get my malformed right foot under me.
"I can get the door," Vash said. "You look after Danny."
I glanced up to see that he was already standing, and moving toward the door.
"Thank you," I said.
I finished getting up, and gathered the baby into my arms as I'd promised him I would do.
Vash opened the door for Miriam Epstein, and her daughter Jael.
"Good afternoo- doughnuts!" he said happily.
From half behind him, I saw her swat Vash's hand away from the platter of pastries.
"Those are for after lunch," she said, a little sharply.
"Welcome Mrs. Epstein," I said, shifting my hold on Danny to balance better. "Am I smelling your Thomas-and-dumpling stew?"
"Yes you are," she said, smiling. "It's an old family recipe, that's supposed to be especially good for people who are healing."
"It's good anytime!" I said fervently.
She laughed, and relaxed a little.
"I didn't see you at church," Vash said. "I hope all of your family are well?"
She gave him an odd look, and began to grow tense again, so I answered for her.
"The Epsteins don't attend church," I said. "We all follow the same God, and even share most of the same Scriptures. But we honor Him in different ways. Our village is too small to have its own synagogue. So our Jewish families meet in the Epsteins' cafe on Friday evenings, and listen to their service on satellite radio. Christians attend church on Sundays."
"I'm sorry," Vash said contritely, "I didn't know."
Mrs. Epstein looked thoughtful for a moment, and then she relaxed again. "Of course you wouldn't know," she said kindly. "Martha's a good girl. She helps a newcomer to understand, and she says it with as much respect for our ways as for her own."
I felt heat in my face as they all smiled at me.
"We... should probably get the food to the kitchen, and eat it while it's hot," I said.
"Yes!" Vash said. "I'll even eat some stew before I eat any doughnuts."
"Donuts!" Danny said, and reached for the platter.
We all laughed while I moved away enough to keep the doughnuts out of his reach.
"Is that Eliza Turner's little boy?" Mrs. Epstein asked.
"Yes," I said, "it's Danny. She asked me to look after him today, while her family helps with the harvest."
"We will be helping with the harvest, too, after we finish lunch," she said.
"Maybe I should..." Vash began.
"...stay here and not risk tearing open that cut place in your side again," I said firmly.
"But -" Vash tried again.
"She's right," Mrs. Epstein said. "You get better. For you, other work can wait."
"Let's go to the kitchen," I said, "and eat some of that wonderful-smelling stew."
"Good idea," Mrs. Epstein said.
That lunch went much as expected. Dusty came downstairs in his work clothes, and helped set the table. We put the doughnuts on the stove, and the stew on the table.
Danny kept wriggling and wanting the doughnuts instead of the stew, and Vash was nearly as bad. However, among the bunch of us, we managed to make the whole stew disappear – and then the doughnuts vanished, too.
I think that a good time was had by all. At least, the Epsteins were both smiling when they left with their freshly emptied and washed dishes.
Dusty set off with them, to join the other villagers in working on the harvest.
I took Danny into the downstairs bathroom by the kitchen. I spread a towel over the counter, and changed his diaper. Vash looked on, offering to help if needed.
Since Danny was wearing a plastic-coated fabric wrap with snaps, which held his diaper in place, I could manage changing his diaper. However, because the little fellow had a much worse than usual case of the wiggles, Vash's help to keep the energetic toddler on the towel-covered counter was most welcome.
When we returned to the front room, Vash lowered himself to the floor in front of the large couch. He grinned as he arranged his long legs so that each knee rested on the opposite leg's foot, and then he extended his arms.
Danny squirmed to get down, and I gave him his wish. Soon he was playing "can't reach" with both of us. Of course, Vash did a better job because he had two functional hands. The baby didn't play favorites, but happily ricocheted between us nearly all afternoon.
When Danny finally grew tired, Vash changed him. When that was finished, I laid Danny down to nap on the small couch. As soon as he was somewhat settled, I pulled a chair from the kitchen and set it by the sleepy baby, with the back against the couch, to form a makeshift crib. Vash saw what I did and quickly brought a second chair.
Then we both sat on the larger couch. We watched, as little Danny drifted off to sleep.
"What do you know of the Great Fall?" Vash had a sad, faraway look as he spoke.
"Several ships crashed on this world," I said. "Something must have gone wrong, because the ships crashed instead of landing. We don't know if the people chose to come here, or if there was some problem that made them try to land here. Either way, the survivors became our ancestors and have done their best to build a home here."
"The problem began about two years earlier," Vash said, "when Rem found my brother and I under our mother's bulb."
"That's a terrible thing to say!" I said. "Even if you're not an ordinary human, you're still a person! Please, don't talk about my friend that way, okay?"
One corner of his mouth quirked upward, and his pale cheeks turned a vivid pink. He scratched at the back of his neck, while looking downward.
"Rem would say things like that," he said softly. "She always treated us like people, even though she knew what we were. Many others have been far less kind."
Vash was sitting to my left, so I reached over to rest my right hand on his right forearm.
"I'm sorry that people treated you badly," I said gently, "but you couldn't have deserved their cruelty any more than you deserved what Ike, Dusty, and the others did. Please, don't let yourself think that you're not a person just because someone was mean to you!"
"It was my brother who caused the ships to fall, Martha," he said, his sorrow deepening into anguish in his voice as he spoke.
I gasped, and stiffened a little. I didn't move, or say anything. I was almost afraid to breathe. I waited, tensely, to hear what else he would say.
"He reprogrammed the ship's computer, and made the ships plummet toward the planet," Vash continued, after a pause. "Rem... only knew that the ships had begun to fall. She put both of us into an escape pod. But she stayed behind, to try to save the lives of all the people who were in cryo sleep on the ships. If not for her efforts, nobody would have survived the Great Fall. She saved thousands of lives, but, in the process, she lost her own. That was how she died. My brother... he ... his actions caused her death."
When he remained silent for a time, I finally managed to say, "I'm so very sorry, Vash."
"My brother used to be like Danny," he said sadly, "but he changed. I didn't realize how he had changed, not in time to stop him. I failed Rem. I failed all the people who died that day. I've failed so many times... I failed again, when I arrived here too late."
I shook my head, but he spoke again before I could.
"I must keep trying," he said, sounding both sad and determined. "I must catch up with him, and find a way to stop him from hurting anyone else."
I hugged his arm, and leaned my head on his shoulder. "I wish you didn't have to go," I said softly. "I'll miss you. You're the best friend I've ever had."
"That's sure to change," he said. "Your new hand and foot should arrive before the end of the year. Then nobody will have any more shabby excuses to pretend that you're anything less than the amazing person that you are."
The heat I felt in my face was extreme. I lifted my head off his shoulder and opened my mouth to protest. He was giving me far more praise than I deserved.
Before I could find any words to say to him, someone arrived with dinner. I was too distracted, between thinking about everything Vash had said, and taking care of Danny, to pay attention to the conversation or even to recall what we ate or who brought it.
After dinner, and changing Danny's diaper again, we played more of "can't reach" and similar games until nearly sundown.
"Aw dun cat weech," Danny declared. He picked up his blanket and climbed into my lap. I cradled him in my arms, and he was soon asleep.
"You're good with children," Vash said. "Someday, you should have some of your own."
"I …" I began, sputtering, but I got no farther. I could feel intense heat flooding into my face and neck and even my ears. I couldn't think of anything to say.
I was spared the need for a response by a knock on the door.
"That's probably Mrs. Turner, coming for Danny," I managed to say.
"I'll get it," Vash said kindly. "Your arms are full."
"Thank you," I said.
I was mistaken. It wasn't Mrs. Turner, though the person who came had arrived to collect Danny and take him home.
When Vash opened the door, it was Fred standing on the other side.
"Ah, just the man I wanted to see," Vash said, almost cheerfully. "May I have a word with you, please?"
Fred nodded, and they stepped outside. Vash closed the door behind them.
I sat alone in the front room, holding a sleeping toddler, and wanting badly to eavesdrop. Unfortunately, the murmur of their voices, muffled and distorted by the walls between us, was all that I could hear.
I looked down at Danny, and remembered the last thing Vash had said just before Fred arrived. I'd never really thought about having any children of my own. I hadn't imagined that anyone would want a crippled wife. I found myself wondering if such a thing could be possible, as I sat alone with the sleeping baby in the darkening house.
Then I remembered the nonsense Vash had been speculating about, regarding Fred, and I blushed again. I wondered, again, what they were saying. I still couldn't hear their words.
Eventually, they came in and Fred gently lifted his little brother out of my arms.
"Thanks," he said, and nodded at me. Then he turned away from me, with his sleeping brother in his arms, and left. Vash closed the door behind him.
I wanted to ask Vash what he and Fred had talked about, but I couldn't think of how to ask that wouldn't sound too snoopy. I fidgeted, trying to think of anything else to say.
Thankfully, Vash volunteered some of the information I craved.
"He wasn't mocking you, Martha," Vash said.
"What do you mean?" I asked softly, feeling a little confused and a lot flustered.
"When he was trying to ride a Thomas one-handed," Vash said, "Fred was only trying to see if he could do it that way. He thought that some day he might need to use one of his hands to hold something, for example: to make a delivery. That was all."
"But I've been told he kept repeating my name," I said. "Wasn't that mocking me?"
"Fred says that he doesn't recall saying your name, after the Thomas threw him off and his leg got broken," Vash said. "However, he does remember thinking you could have done it better than he had, because you were more practiced at doing things one-handed."
I sat quietly, staring blankly at the gathering darkness. Again, I didn't know what to say.
Dusty returned shortly thereafter, and we all went upstairs for the night.
