Sela stepped around her father with a big grin on her face and walked directly into the arms of her Grandma. As they hugged and Mother Patrick rocked her grand-daughter back and forth, words of love passed between them. Marina felt her own eyes prick with tears. She remembered the particular joy that came from seeing her Ba-Ma and she was glad her own daughter still had that as an almost grown woman.
Mother Patrick saved some surprisingly strong hugs for her son and daughter-in-law, but eventually led them into her office and waved for them to sit. She only then seemed to notice that her couch was covered by a couple of blankets and a crushed pillow left over from having been used as a bed.
She chattered about how well they looked and gave them no chance to answer as she swept the items up into her arms and tossed them onto her desk. When she did so, the battered metal top went from littered to completely buried, the books and papers now covered by a messy pile of fabric.
She twisted the knob on a single burner stove perched on a table and checked the teapot water level with a clatter of the metal lid. Marina’s count now stood at five questions they had been asked but not yet answered and her smile widened. The pleasant chaos that was Joseph’s mother always did that to her.
The older woman, who Marina could never quite bring herself to describe as actually old, grabbed her desk chair with surprising agility, gave it a twirl so that it faced the couch then plopped down into it. It was all one smooth economical movement and Marina almost envied her that kind of physical ability. Her hair was twisted in the same figure eight bun on the back of her head that Marina had seen her wearing since the day Joseph first brought her home. Frizzy strands of shorter hair escaped the bun and framed her face like a halo of wispy whiteness. Her face was remarkably unlined except when she smiled. Then her eyes all but disappeared in the many wrinkles that appeared.
It was said that life was divided into thirds. The first was childhood and it was supposed to be the happiest. The second was adulthood and it was to be the most rewarding. The third was being old and that, alas, went by the fastest. Marina and Joseph were almost to that final stage and Mother Patrick was already older than many people could expect to ever be, but she was more vital and vigorous than many a youngster. She was certainly happier than most. Perhaps the maxim simply didn’t apply to some people.
“So, my babies,” she began, clearly meaning all three of them. At some point during the years Joseph and Marina had joined the group loosely lumped as ‘babies’ in Mother Patrick’s eyes. Her bright brown eyes flicked from one to the next. “What brings you to see me? The message just said a vacation. Are you vacationing with me or on your way somewhere?”
Chapter Five
Their visit was a good one, though shorter than any of them might have liked. Joseph put a small crimp on things when he asked if she was sleeping in her office, his tone disapproving. Mother Patrick quickly reminded him that she only worked the hours she could handle but that the trip back up to 82 was more than she liked to do after coming down.
She made it very clear she was comfortable here overnight and was able to take days off between her shifts if she stayed on call overnight. Joseph didn’t respond with acquiescence, instead voicing argument about how much she worked overall. The tension was lifted before it could really build when Mother Patrick chucked her son under the chin and reminded him of many nights they had spent on that couch or floor when the birthing times of the animals came too quickly for them to go home. He smiled an honest smile at that and admitted how much he had liked those days. He did elicit a promise from her to ask for a comfortable bed, perhaps a real folding bed rather than a cot, if the couch became too much to bear.
They drank tea and heard the stories of the Animal Farm, at least this side of it where the animals lived rather than where they went to be processed. They discussed the family’s plans for this vacation and dutifully wrote down the requests for items that Mother Patrick had a particular want for.
It was a short list of simple things. Some bright cloth from the Garment district for a few new kerchiefs, some strawberry jam if they could find some because she had a hankering for it. Odds and ends that made life a little easier for a woman who found it difficult to make long journeys up the stairs were added. Marina would be sure to find every one of the items, and a few gifts besides, before they stopped on their way home.
Mother Patrick showed Sela a set of newborn twin goats with their mother in one of the pens across the hall. The delight on her face at the sight was gratifying. The mother was still too newly delivered to feel comfortable with Sela’s excited squeals and quick hands around her kids, but Mother Patrick calmed her so Sela could pet the newborns.
Down the ramp, Mother Patrick took them to see the laying room where chickens lived in groups inside smaller coops. Each held about twenty hens and each coop had things called nesting boxes along the back wall. The visitors giggled at the argumentative cackling different groups seemed to engage in and the bright, greedy interest many of the chickens showed when they noted humans in the vast room.
Mother Patrick also showed the family the dim walkway that ran behind the coops that allowed the workers to collect the eggs. They walked a short distance down one of them and Sela clapped her hands over her mouth to contain her squeal when she saw a dirty egg resting inside one of the nesting boxes.
As the visit wound down and Mother Patrick escorted them through the farm toward the entrance, Marina looked around in hopes of seeing Sarah and thanking her. It was only as they were leaving the main animal area toward the visitor pens that Marina finally spotted the slim girl with the long dark hair again.
She was bent over and leaning her head against the side of a heavily pregnant goat. Her cheek rested against the goat’s distended side and her hand moved with gentle expertise along the great bulge of her belly, pausing now and again as she felt for whatever it was she sought. Her eyes were closed and a slight smile, a smile that was genuine, content and completely relaxed, transformed her features from pinched to almost beautiful. Instead of painful shyness, Marina saw a girl at peace with her work and happy.
Mother Patrick must have seen something on her face because she touched Marina’s arm and said, “Sarah belongs more with animals than with people. Animals don’t hurt others without reason.”
She said it a bit sadly and Marina thought there must be more to the story of Sarah. She knew it was not her place to ask, though. She was in good hands here.
The goodbyes at the landing were short as the family would be reunited once again on the return trip. The morning had slipped away during their visit and the family needed to move along if they were to reach the hotel on Level 50 in time to enjoy a dinner out as planned. They had 40 levels to go and Marina was anxious not to fall too far behind schedule.
They climbed, but Marina couldn’t seem to settle into the rhythm of the stairs. Unlike so many others she only had to traverse four levels down and four levels up in her daily life and the muscles used most in climbing were more than happy to forget the skill quickly if not used. She felt herself pulling on the rail rather than simply resting a hand there in short order.
It took only a few levels before she started looking longingly at the big bags on the lifts as they passed by in a puff of wind on their way up or down. She wished she could use those but use of the baskets by living people was not permitted except under the direst of circumstances. There had been accidents in the past, when the rules were a little more lax, and it was considered too risky for regular use.