Premonitions Page 2

  The duo delighted in love’s ambrosia, a lighthearted and giddy dessert. Danny cherished every precious moment with his girl. And, Debbie’s unwavering devotion to her guy burst through her radiant smile. There was no denying that they would forever be united.

  “Danny, don’t you want play with Charlie?”

  “I like swinging with you.”

  “Well, I could always watch.”

  “You know I can’t really shoot the ball, remember? …My left arm?”

  “Oh, yeah... It doesn’t look broke.”

  “It’s not broken, it’s just…bad, that’s all.”

  “Sometimes I forget. Sorry.”

  “That’s ok, Debbie. It’s really hard to notice.”

  Two weeks before Baby Boy Ormont was born, Mrs. Ormont had a dream. A baby bird landed on her porch with a broken left wing. She did not give it a second thought. One week before Baby Boy Ormont’s arrival, Mrs. Ormont discovered a baby bird with a broken left wing struggling to fly off her stoop. Curiously, Baby Boy Ormont was brought to his mother with his left arm in a sling.

  “What be wrong wit the lad’s arm?” Mrs. Ormont cornered the doctor.

  “Superficial brachial damage.” The attending physician consulted his chart, never making eye contact.

  “In plain English, yea goofed.”

  “It is only superficial.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The subject, an infant – male, will never have use of that arm.”

  “The subject be me son. …And, yea call that superficial?”

  “By the textbook definition, yes.”

  “Aye, yer textbook be a-causin’ this mess!”

  The doctor glanced at the floor and rubbed his neck.

  “Prognosis?” Mum asked, breaking the uneasy silence.

  “Amputation would be best.”

  “None of that talk now. Surely, there be other ways.”

  The doctor scratched his chin. “What would you suggest?”

  “Sakes! Be it rehabilitation or physical therapy...”

  “Convention dictates his arm will only atrophy.”

  “We’ll be a-seein’ about that,” she said. “I don’t subscribe to yer conventions.”

  “He’ll have a long, tough fight ahead…”

  “Fine! Daniel shall be the lad’s name, and he’ll be a-facin’ many a-lion’s den, he will!”

  Bored with the swings, the two marched back to Debbie’s house. “You really don’t mind playing dolls with me?” The pair raced to her room.

  “No,” Danny said. “After all, you don’t mind playing airplane.”

  “Then, give Dottie her bottle.”

  Danny tucked Dottie under his arm like a football, collapsed into a beanbag chair, and popped a bottle in the doll’s mouth. Debbie laughed at the struggling father’s expense.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “She’ll never take her bottle like that, silly. Here, let me show you.” Debbie coddled Dottie in her arms and cooed. Pretending to test the milk on her wrist, the loving little mother fed her baby from the bottle. “Now, burp her!”

  “Burp her???”

  “Put this cloth over your shoulder and rest her head, like this.” While Debbie cared for the child, Danny surprised her with a peck on the cheek. The girl’s heart swelled with delight. Unabashed, she closed her eyes and kissed him right back.

  “I love you, Debbie,” Danny blushed.

  “I love you, too,” Debbie confessed. “I honestly do.” The doll slipped out of her hands. She hugged Danny, and they tumbled onto the carpet. The two cuddled with an ear pressed against the other’s chest. Hand in hand, they rubbed thumbs entranced by the harmony of their heartbeats.

  Plush friends showered the couple, freed from the overhead pet net. “Mitchell!” The boy shouted, righting himself. But, Debbie did not mind. She simply pulled Danny closer and planted another kiss on his cheek.

  CHAPTER III

  Show and Tell

  Debbie’s parents treated Danny like one of the family, and Danny’s family reciprocated. The couple went everywhere together. If Debbie’s Mom had to run to the grocery store, Danny was invited to tag along. And, if Danny’s playing was interrupted by lunch, Debbie was most certainly welcomed to join him. One day, Mum beckoned the two pups playing in the backyard.

  “Denny, time fir lunch!”

  “Coming!”

  “And, bring Debbie, too.”

  “Okay, Mum.”

  “Last one to the house is a toadstool!” The children abandoned the swings and raced across the yard. Greeted by the sweet fragrance of lilac, they rounded the flowerbed where Danny tore past his friend. But, Debbie snagged the boy’s shirt tails and stole the lead.

  “Hey, pokey,” Debbie teased her competition at the back door. “Danny’s a toadstool! Danny’s a toadstool!”

  “I am not!”

  “Are, too!”

  “AM NOT!”

  “ARE, TOO!”

  “Danny’s a toadstool! Danny’s a toadstool!” chanted the girl.

  Danny held open the back door and allowed Debbie to enter first.

  “Wipe yer feet now, loves,” Mum called from the kitchen.

  “Mrs. Ormont? Danny’s a dumb old toadstool!”

  “I am not!”

  “Now, Denny, she be only funnin’,” Mum said. “Git washed up.”

  Danny took Debbie by the hand and guided her to the powder room. “I love the smell of that soap. What’s it called?”

  “Mountain Mystery, I think. It’s kinda minty.” Danny took a drink from a paper cup with jokes printed all over it. “Hey, Debbie…where do school buses go at night?”

  “I don’t know. Where?”

  “Night school! Get it?”

  “Yeah, that’s a good one.”

  “Lunch is ready!” The two raced to the kitchen table where cool drinks greeted the overheated couple. “Whoa, slow down!” Mum said. “Where be the fire?”

  “What’s for lunch?”

  “Sakes, Denny, what a sight! Been pig wrestling, have yea?’

  “What?” Danny examined his shirt and brushed off the dust. “I don’t look so bad.”

  “Why, yea be filthy, and what’s that yer a-wearin’?” Mum said. “A ratty old tee?”

  “But, Mum…”

  “Not another word. Git changed! But first, wash up.”

  “I just did!”

  “Aye, only this time, touch the soap!” Mum gave the child a rap on the behind as he ran upstairs.

  His companion took a seat at the table. The eat-in kitchen was a cozy nook affording just enough space for a family to gather. A worn, L-shaped bench with vinyl seats encircled half the table with two country kitchen chairs completing the ensemble. A modest, black and white television set rested on the counter opposite the table with rabbit ear antennas adorned in aluminum foil to improve reception.

  “Debbie, that shirt be darlin’,” Mum said. “It escaped me mind.”

  “You mean…you knew I had this?”

  “Aye, now I remember! We’d gone shoppin’ – yer Mum and me – pickin’ somethin’ fir the wee ones to share, that we did. Sakes, where’s me mind?” Mum said, setting a plate before her young guest.

  “Ooh, peanut butter and honey. My favorite!”

  “Enjoy, lass!”

  Danny returned to the kitchen. The pair sat on the bench holding hands under the table; their swinging legs never touched the floor.

  “Yeah, Danny’s got me liking it.”

  “Seems yea and Denny be doing lots together.”

  “Mum, please…”

  His mate sampled her sandwich. “It’s great!” Debbie said.

  “Heavens, would yea look at that?” Mum smiled. “Birds of a feather flock together.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?

  “Matchin’ bird t-shirts.”

  “Huh?” Danny glanced down in surprised at the shirt he threw on and blushed. “Gee, it was an accident,” the boy in
sisted. “That’s the first shirt I pulled from the drawer.”

  “…Besides, that what yer t-shirts say,” Mum continued. “I guess it’s really true. Yea two truly be birds of a feather!”

  “Oh, how cute!” Debbie squealed. “Danny, I didn’t know you had the same shirt. My mom never told me.”

  “Look sharp now and wear ‘em to kindergarten this afternoon.”

  “We’ll be twins!”

  “Quite a sight, I’d say, quite.”

  * * *

  “Duck, duck, duck…” Debbie chanted, circling the ring of classmates. “Goose!” She tapped Danny on the head and scooted past.

  The hunt was on! Danny chased Debbie hoping to tag her before she could steal his spot in the circle. Debbie was swift, but Danny had her outpaced. Soon, Debbie felt a tap on her shoulder only a step away from claiming victory.

  Kindergarten was a nurturing place where young imaginations were free to roam. Today you were a fireman, tomorrow an astronaut. Children explored their world while building friendships. But, all the children understood how Debbie and Danny shared much more. In their own little way, Debbie and Danny were becoming an item at an early age. They would always pair-up while playing games like “Duck, Duck, Goose.” Or, if Danny were the “Farmer in the Dell,” he would always pick Debbie to be his wife. Still, it was quite a shock when they came to school wearing matching bird shirts.

  “Take your seats on the mat, everyone,” the teacher said, “crisscross applesauce!”

  “Is it story time already, Mrs. Hopewell?”

  “No, Tommy,” the teacher said. “Not quite.”

  “C’mon Danny!” Debbie pulled the unsuspecting boy to his feet and dragged him across the room. The pair took seats in the back row.

  “Today, we have a special Show ‘n’ Tell about friendship,” the teacher began. The children gasped with excitement.

  “Debbie and Danny, please tell the class…where did you ever find those matching birdie t-shirts?” Mrs. Hopewell insisted. “Aren’t they precious? Just darling!”

  “Ha-ha, look at the lovebirds!” a boy teased.

  A wave of giggles rippled across the room when the pair came forward. Debbie twirled her pigtails while her partner stood there squirming.

  “Children, please!” the teacher insisted. “Danny, tell the class…I simply must know!”

  “Well, you see, Debbie and I like to play airplanes, and—”

  “And, Danny likes to play with my dolls!” Debbie interjected.

  The class erupted into hysterics over such an absurd statement. Danny’s jaw struck the floor in astonishment while the class howled.

  “That was supposed to be our little secret!” Danny hid his face in shame.

  “Now, children, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “That’s what Danny says, too,” Debbie added. But, her words merely rekindled the dying embers of laughter.

  “This is the worstest day in my whole entire life.” Danny wept into his sleeve.

  Debbie led Danny by the hand to the back corner of the room. “It’s okay, Danny. Let them laugh,” the girl assured, kissing his cheek. Lost in chaos, the children failed to notice her act of affection.

  “Really?” the boy sniffled.

  “Danny, are you okay?” Mrs. Hopewell asked, approaching the distraught child.

  “I’m fine…thanks to Debbie,” he smiled, drying his tears. “So what if they laugh?”

  “That-a-boy,” Mrs. Hopewell said. “You two share something very special. Are you ready to join the class?”

  Gazing at his teacher with admiration, Danny nodded in approval.

  “That’s very brave of you,” the teacher commended. Then, she called the class to order. “Gather around the crafts table, everyone!” The children circled their teacher, allowing her to continue. “It just so happens that I brought you each a toy bird, today,” Mrs. Hopewell declared. “Can anyone tell us where birds like to rest?”

  “A nest!” the class shouted in unison.

  “Exactly. And, I thought we might all make nests for our birds.”

  “How can we do that?” blurted a little girl.

  “Next time,” Mrs. Hopewell scorned. “Please raise your hand, Susie.”

  “Here’s the supplies you’ll need…” The teacher distributed a plastic bag to each child containing one toy bird and a ball of clay. “Now, place the clay on the table, children. First, we have to pound it flat.” Tiny fists hammered to their heart’s content.

  “Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake,” Mrs. Hopewell chanted.

  “Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake,” echoed the children.

  “Patti-cakes, Patti-cakes…” Danny muttered.

  “First, we’ll pat it…”

  “Patti-cakes? Patti-cakes?”

  “Then, roll it…”

  “WAAAAIT!!!” Danny wailed a primordial yawp. “Where is my Patti-cakes?”

  The children froze, ogling Danny with bulging eyes; their mouths agape in horror.

  CHAPTER IV

  Patti-Cakes

  Little Patti Connor lay awake in her bed and stared at the ceiling. Yawning, she longed to escape into slumberland. But, like so many recent nights, dreams were shattered by the commotion in the next bedroom. She hugged her teddy bear and prayed for a miracle. Tears streamed down her face while her parents argued.

  “Who was that on the phone, Miranda?”

  Mother bit her lip. “Oh, no one…”

  “It was him again, wasn’t it?”

  “Lower your voice!”

  “I’m not blind!”

  “He’s just a friend.”

  “Don’t lie to me!”

  “Sh! You’ll wake my baby.”

  “Our baby, Miranda! Our baby!”

  “Lower your voice!”

  “Damn it, woman, we’ve been through this before!”

  Mother turned her back on him. “It’s no big deal.”

  “I told you, I don’t want him calling here.”

  “Actually…I called him.”

  “Don’t give me your crap.”

  “Your attitude stinks. Go sleep on the couch!”

  “You’re goddamn right about that!”

  Patti jumped at the slam of a door. She wondered if the fighting had stopped for the night. A spooky silence permeated her modest townhouse. Had she been forgotten? Teary-eyed, she caught the full moon peeping in her window; its frosty fingers iced the room in silver. Glistening in the moonlight stood a tiny ballerina atop an ornate jewelry box. How Patti treasured that trinket. It was the ideal birthday gift for a little princess. That, plus a four-foot cuddly, teddy bear affectionately named “Freddy” after her father.

  She hopped to her dresser, opened the jewelry box, and gazed into its magic mirror. Or, so her father claimed. Pressed cheek to cheek, father and daughter would study its glass, watching magic transform a square into a diamond and back again. Entranced, she flashed a smile into the mirror. Far too soon, the illusion faded along with her hopes. More screaming in the next room, and the magic was gone. Once again, it became a plain, ordinary mirror.

  Patti slammed the lid and commanded the ballerina to twirl; her wrist wrenched a brass knob. A tinny music box plinked to Patti’s delight. The absent-minded girl traced a triple spiral scrawled upon its face and reminisced of happier days. She nestled into the comfort of her father’s arms. Standing atop her father’s shoes, together they swayed to the music entertained by the pirouetting ballerina in a pearl white tutu.

  Then, Daddy’s little girl pretended she was that pristine ballerina. She curtsied in her pink nightgown and flitted about the room to her father’s amusement. And, when the ballerina unwound, Patti unwound with a yawn. She attempted to kiss her father goodnight only to watch his memory vanish with the patter of encroaching footsteps.

  Patti dove under the covers, and her bedroom door swung wide. Mother followed the moonlight to where Patti lay still, pretending to sleep.

  “Sorry, darling,” Mother k
nelt beside her daughter’s bedside. “Your father doesn’t love us…tearing us apart…trust Mother...no one can take you away, my darling...be a good girl…be strong for me…whatever would I do without you.”

  Never stirring, Patti absorbed her mother’s every word. Mother watched Patti sleep with loving eyes. The toddler’s rhythmic breathing bobbed the blankets.

  “Mother’s baby.” She stroked her daughter’s auburn locks. “Mother’s precious…you have to be strong for Mother, ya hear? You’ll have to care for me now. It’s my Patti-cakes I can depend upon…unlike that useless, good for noth– Say, where is your sister, anyway? Oh, no matter. You’re the only one I trust. Promise you’ll look after me? Promise me, now. Promise!”

  From the bed, there came no reply.

  “That’s a good girl.” She kissed her child’s forehead and watched in silent admiration. “Pleasant dreams, my guardian angel. You were sent from heaven just for me.”

  The instant Mother exited Patti’s bedroom, the window slid open. A figure wormed its way to the floor with a thud. An asphyxiating cloud of cheap perfume filled the room.

  “She’s lying, ya know…” said a raspy voice.

  Patti’s eyes popped open wide. A heaviness pressed against the child. The girl turned to face the wall, avoiding the suffocating stench of beer breath. Someone twisted the child’s arm, forcing her to roll back. The frightened waif stared into the face of a stranger: a bloodied forehead and raccoon eyes encircled by purple bruises. Glossed by tears, the wounds shone in the moonlight.

  “Boo-boo!” the toddler screamed. “BOO—”

  Lynn clamped the little one’s mouth shut. “Not a word about this to Mother, see snitch?” the impetuous tween whispered in her sister’s ear. “Not one word, got it?”

  Without a sound, the innocent one nodded in consent.

  Satisfied, Lynn dropped her hand by her side. “Mother don’t give a darn about you,” her big sister continued. “Trust me, snitch. I’m her favorite. She tells me time and time again. So, don’t go squealing to Mother. This ain’t none of your bees wax. Things could get ugly for ya, snitch, know what I’m sayin’?”

  Shaken, the wide-eyed girl nodded rapidly.

  “Good, then we understand each other. Stick by me, pest. “I’m the only one you can trust. Wouldn’t want any accidents to happen.” The teen strutted across the room, knocking Patti’s jewelry box to the floor. “Whoops! Aw, would ya look at that? Too bad it’s broken. Remember, you promised – not a word to Mother, comprendez? Promise me, now. Promise!”