Baby

changed the subject.
    “Wil, would you care to check on Maggie after dinner tonight? I have to go to the barn to milk the cows, anyway.” Netty neglected to turn them out to pasture this morning, being preoccupied with her guest.
    “I gratefully accept your offer, Netty. And if you do not mind, I think I need to lay down now.” As Wil rose, Netty rushed to help him. Waving her off, he made his way carefully to the bed on his own. Easing himself down on the bed, Netty heard him take a deep breath.
    “I must be really under the weather. I had the dangest dreams last night. I dreamed I saw a golden deer, or was it a cat? What a fantastic creature. Its eyes contained rainbows, Netty. Is that not a crazy dream?”
    “That is what happens when you are sick with delirious tremors,” Netty held her breath. Wil did not question her explanation. He would only be here for another day or so and be on his way, Netty told herself. Her secret will be safe.
    Later, over a long hearty dinner, Wil and Netty got to know each other. Netty explained how she inherited the family farm, omitting gruesome details, while Wil shared his dreams for his future. After dinner Netty allowed Wil to clear the table. He seemed to be gaining strength, rapidly. The dishes were soon stacked and put away.
    “Wil, are you ready for a trip to the barn?”
    “Yes, madam. If you do not mind, I thought I would look around and see if I could repay your fine hospitality with some work.”
    “There is no shortage of work to be done on this farm, Wil.” Netty laughed, unashamed. Slipping into their overcoats, they headed for the barn.
    “Sometimes, I think it is time to hire some help. But I don’t think I can afford to do that unless I expand my baking capacity to pay for it. There is only so much you can do with one oven.” Helping each other through the snow, they laughed together as they slipped in their heavy boots. Stopping in the doorway of the barn, Wil raised their lantern. He stared into Netty’s eyes.
    “Gosh, you sure are beautiful. The color of your eyes cannot be real. They look like spun gold. How can that be?”
    “It sounds like you are still delirious, Mr. Capaccino.” Laughing, Netty put him off. She was not used to compliments and wondered if Wil was being forward. As wonderful as it felt in his company, she had little experience with men. (Her husband certainly did not count.) Anyway, she knew she could not have Wil around for long. It would only invite disaster for Baby.
    Showing Wil around the barn, he pointed out many small improvements that could be made. He was thrilled to see Maggie. She did not hesitate to help herself to the sweet hay belonging to the Jerseys. They were completely unconcerned with her presence. After watering and milking the livestock, Wil helped Netty bring in the milk, depositing a large portion in her butter churn. As Netty churned away, she learned more about him; his family, the unfortunate Lexa, and his boyhood town. She felt a bond with his story. His background was much like hers; poor, honest, working class family, a closeness to his mother. He was smarter than her, she could see that. She felt a need in him, a searching or striving for a place he could be happy. A place he could put his feet up; his sanctuary. His ideas for increasing productivity and simplifying her work load impressed her with its simplicity and creativity. The idea tempted her, all right.
    Saying goodnight to each other, Netty got ready for bed. As she undressed, she slowly looked critically at herself. She was quite striking with her golden eyes and long gold and brown hair. The changing of her eyes happened so gradually, she just accepted it without much question. Her hands slipped down to her bottom where the growth was becoming elongated and supple. It was easy to hide under her skirts for now. Yes, for now. Would it continue to grow? She no longer feared the growth would kill her. But she did fear the change it might bring to her body. And of course, how did she expose it to anyone. She refused to let anyone observe the freak she might become. That was unthinkable.
    Before she snuffed out her candle, she played with Baby on the bed. She liked to tickle his tummy. He did not have the capability to laugh, but he loved to stroke her face with his elongated leathery fingers. He loved tangling his golden crown of antlers in her hair. When it got to be too tangled, she would pick him up by his feet and shake him loose. He