Excerpt: St. Dymphna, Help Us!

I drove down US-2 to Windy Prairie, made a left turn and headed north toward the Sweet Grass Hills. The Welker family’s farm was five miles out of town and as I drove, I saw wild sunflowers in the ditches. It warmed my heart to know that not everyone thought it was a noxious weed and that somebody had left them blooming, either accidentally or on purpose. I could hear the humming of the combines in the fields as harvest was in full swing and all the wheat was being sucked into the machinery before it poured into massive grain trailers that would hold enough wheat for 10,000 loaves of bread. In previous years before Michael’s birth, some of the farmers would invite us to go “combining” with them. The combines had programs to test the yield of that particular spot, GPS to help the farmers to know where they were in their fields, software to test the chemical composition of the soil for fertilizing the next year, and a whole lot of gadgetry that would put the Apple store to shame.
As I pulled up to the farmhouse, I saw a clowder of cats pouring out from under the porch. Apparently, it was also kitten season and these kittens were definitely unique. The mother cat was a tabby patch and I guessed that the father was a tabby because these kittens had the most intricate and fascinating coat patterns. I was stooping down to pet one of the few friendly ones when Meghan Welker, one of my favorite church kids from St. Dymphna’s, came bounding out of the house and gave me a hug.
“Katia!” she cried. “We’ve missed you. Thank you SO much for letting us have Michael for a couple hours. I got to give him his bottle and he was so good and burped for me.”
I smiled. Meghan had been Michael’s special friend since day 1. She had written poetry for him when he was in the NICU and I promised her holding rights whenever she wanted once we got him home. Her older sister Hannah was one of our youth from the Windy Prairie Parish Youth Group but had been the only high schooler for a couple years so she and Martin and I bonded. Martin had also had her in his Confirmation class when he first got here and she reveled in finding questions he could not answer.
Meghan and I walked into the house and were greeted by Meghan and Hannah’s mom Jessie who was busy taking some kind of hotdish out of the oven. “It’s my turn to cook for harvest”, she explained, “and the men love this one.” From the smell, I could tell it was the one that tasted like chicken-flavored Rice-a-roni which was also one of my favorites. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” she asked. “I can run this out to the field and come back.”
“It’s OK,” I replied. “I’ve had kind of a long day and I need to get home with Michael and see the kitties.”
“Do you want some for the road?” she asked. Not wanting to turn down free food, especially when it was something I loved more than many earthly pleasures, I nodded. “Great!” she replied. “I’ll put some together for you.”
While Jessie was putting together some chicken hotdish for me to take home for dinner, I went into the living room where Hannah was snuggled up with Michael. She made a pouty face and handed him to me.
“How was he?” I asked.
“He was awesome”, she replied. “We put him on a blanket and gave him some tummy time. He can totally lift his head up now and do mini push-ups. Meghan gave him his bottle and was even able to burp him. That was SO amazing because he doesn’t burp for anybody. He and I have been watching “Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire” and he’s not spooked or anything.”
I laughed. “I don’t think he knows that he’s supposed to fear the Death Eaters yet. I’m glad he was good for you.”
Hannah and Meghan helped me back up his dude bag and his pack n’ play and escorted me to the car, removing the various felines that had decided that the warm hood was a place for them to sleep. I got Michael strapped into his car seat and drove back to Windy Prairie, my mouth watering at the smell of the chicken hotdish in the container next to my seat. I would definitely be having a good dinner tonight.