John Saul - Nathaniel

"Shadow?" Janet asked. "Amos, that's one of the healthiest-looking dogs I've ever seen. But if it'll make you feel better, I'll tell Michael to make him sleep on the floor."

"I'll tell him myself," Amos said. "As soon as he's in bed, I'll go up."

"I'm not lying," Michael protested. He was in bed, the covers drawn tightly up around his neck as if they could protect him from the anger he could see in his grandfather's eyes.

Amos sat on the edge of the bed, and in the corner, his ears up and his eyes alert, Shadow crouched watchfully, his tail curled around his feet, its tip twitching dangerously.

"No one would try to run you down, and no one would try to kidnap you," Amos said once more. "And you didn't just fall off your bicycle, did you?" He spoke in a low voice, his eyes steady on the frightened boy in the bed. "Tell me the truth, Michael," he went on. "Sooner or later, you'll have to tell me the truth."

"If you tell them the truth, you will die."

Nathaniel's words rang in his head, and Michael squirmed further into the bed. "But that is the truth," he whispered. "I wouldn't lie to you, Grandpa. Really, I wouldn't."

Amos's hand came up, and Michael was certain his grandfather was about to strike him. But then, from the corner, came a low snarl. Startled, Amos glanced over at Shadow. The big dog was on his feet now. His ears no longer stood up, but were flat back against his head, and his whole body seemed to be a mass of tension. Only when Amos lowered his upraised hand did the dog begin to relax.

"I'm not lying," Michael said once more.

But Amos seemed to have forgotten everything except the dog. "Where'd he come from?" he asked. From his tone Michael knew the old man wasn't asking him a question, so he didn't try to answer it. Then Amos's eyes shifted back to Michael. "We're going to have to get rid of him, you know. If his owner doesn't turn up, we're going to have to get rid of him."

"Why?" Michael demanded. Suddenly, with Shadow threatened rather than himself, he sat up in the bed, the covers falling away from his chest. "Why can't I keep him?"

"I don't like dogs," Amos told him.

"But he's mine! He saved my life, and he's mine!"

"No, he's not. He's a stray, and he doesn't have a home. And tomorrow, if his owner doesn't show up, I'm going to get rid of him."

"No!" Michael's head was suddenly pounding, and his eyes blazed with fury.

Amos's voice dropped dangerously. "Don't argue with me, boy. You know I won't be argued with."

Shadow, sensing the menace to his master in the old man's voice, rose to his feet again, his fangs bared; his snarl barely audible.

For a moment there was dead silence and then, as the dog and the old man watched each other with wary eyes, the tension in the room was broken by a tapping at the door. A moment later Janet stepped inside. Shadow instantly dropped back to the floor, resting his muzzle on his forepaws.

"Is everything all right?" Janet asked. Amos rose to his feet. "Everything's fine. I was just saying goodnight." He reached down and patted Michael's shoulder. "See you in the morning. And remember what I said." Then he was gone, and Michael and Janet were alone, except for Shadow, who rose and padded over to the bed. As Janet lowered herself to the spot that Amos had just vacated, the big dog rested his head in her lap, and his large eyes gazed up at her.

"He wants you to scratch his ears," Michael said. Janet tentatively touched the animal's ears, and his tail began wagging. Smiling, Janet scratched harder, and the big dog wriggled with pleasure. As her fingers continued to play over the dog's fur, she turned her attention to Michael.

"Does it hurt?"

Michael shook his head. He looked uncertain for a moment, then once more shook his head. "Grandpa didn't believe me."

Janet frowned. "Didn't believe you? What do you mean?"

"He didn't believe someone almost ran over me. And he wants to kill Shadow."

"Michael, what are you talking about?"

"He says we have to get rid of Shadow. We don't, do we? I can keep him, can't I?"

"But what if his owner shows up?"

"He won't," Michael said. "I think he's a stray. Besides, he saved my life. I can keep him, can't I? You won't let Grandpa hurt him, will you?"

"Of course not," Janet assured him. "And if no one shows up to claim him, you can keep him. You may not be able to keep him in the house until we move into our own place, but he won't mind staying outside. Will you, Shadow?"

Shadow sat down and raised one paw, which he offered to Janet. Solemnly, the dog and the woman shook hands. "See?" Janet asked Michael. "We just made a deal. After tonight, Shadow will sleep outside 'til we get moved. Then all three of us will share the house. Now, what do you mean, Grandpa didn't believe you? You mean he didn't believe someone tried to run over you?"

Michael nodded.

"Well, maybe he's right. In fact, he probably is. I'll bet the car was going much slower than you thought, and when you fell off your bike, they just stopped to make sure you were all right."

"But-"

Janet put a gentle finger to his lips. "Hush." She tucked the covers snugly around him. "Now, why don't you tell me all about the foaling. Was it interesting?"

A few moments later Michael was excitedly talking about the birth of the colt, describing in detail everything that had happened, everything that he and Eric had done.

"Well, it all sounds fascinating," Janet said when he was done. She stood up, then tucked the covers around her son, and leaned down to kiss him goodnight. "Now you just think about all those things you learned tonight, and in a few minutes you'll be sound asleep. By tomorrow morning, you'll have forgotten all about your accident." She started toward the door, but Michael's voice stopped her.

"Mom?"

She turned back.

"Mom, Aunt Laura had her baby tonight, didn't she?"

Janet frowned. "How did you know that?"

"I-I saw Dr. Potter go into Ryan's house. And I saw Grandpa's car there, too." He fell silent for a moment, then his brow furrowed. "Mom, did something happen to the baby?"

Janet returned to the bed, and sat down agaiu. "What makes you ask a question like that?"

"Did it?" Michael pressed.

For a moment Janet wondered how to explain to Michael what had happened, then decided to face the question head on. "It was born dead, honey," she said quietly. "Those things happen sometimes. It's called a miscarriage, and all kinds of things can cause it. For your Aunt Laura, it was probably a blessing in disguise."

"Why?"

"Well, sometimes things go wrong with babies, and they just don't develop right. That's what happened to Aunt Laura's baby. Her miscarriage was just nature's way of correcting a mistake." Suddenly she frowned. "How did you know Aunt Laura had her baby tonight?"

Michael hesitated only a moment before shrugging. "I don't know. I guess Mrs. Simpson must have told me."

"All right." Once again Janet kissed her son goodnight. Then she went to the door of his room, turned to smile at him one last time, and switched off the light.

For a long time, Michael lay in the darkness, thinking.

Aunt Laura's baby hadn't been born dead.

He knew it hadn't, because Nathaniel had told him so…

"What am I supposed to say?" Michael asked anxiously as Janet pulled Amos Hall's Olds into the Shieldses' driveway.

"You probably won't have to say anything at all," Janet replied. "You can talk to Ryan while I talk to Aunt Laura. She's in bed, and you won't even have to go upstairs."

Relieved, Michael got out of the car and started across the lawn, his mother behind him. Then, as they mounted the steps to the porch of the white clapboard house, the front door opened and Buck Shields appeared, weariness etching haggard lines around his eyes. He nodded a greeting to Michael, then turned to Janet.