Child of God

Chapter One

There's no sweeter stench than the scent of a burning baby.

Grace raced across the yard, her steps hastened by the cries upon the wind.

"Somebody help me," she cried. "My grandbaby's trapped inside the house."

She grabbed a large branch and began to beat against a window. It broke away and released a menacing gust of fire that licked the edges of her hair and sent her reeling backward in a choking fit.

The anguished cries from inside the house escaped through the broken pane, hanging upon the wind.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..."

It was a wild and airy sound, a wailing that trailed off into a whirlwind of echoes. In the midst of the biting-cold night, the house was engulfed in a blizzard of flames.

Polo stood out front, drenched in sweat, flinging buckets of water. The fire became more savage with each bucket he threw. Grace found her footing again and began beating her house with another tree branch.

"Mama, it's not slowing down," Polo said, out of breath. "It's getting bigger. The water's making it worse."

"Just keep trying. It's got to be stopped."

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..."

The cries of the baby were deafening.

Polo threw away the bucket and grabbed a tree branch. He followed his mother's lead and began to swat at the fire.

Grace lifted her nose, catching the scent of the wind.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." She fell to her knees in exhaustion.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa..."

The haunting cry was like a lingering note in a dirge. Then it faded into the night and was never heard by Grace or Polo again.

Grace raised her head and listened to the sound as it waned. Silent tears fell onto the dusty earth. If not for the gentle shaking of her shoulders as she dropped her head into her hands, Polo would not have known she was crying.

"My grandbaby is dead."

Polo dropped on his knees in the dirt beside her, trying to make out her words as she sobbed into her soot-stained palms. He thought she was asking about his sister. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace.

"Mama, Ophelia's all right," he said. "She's out there by them fir trees."

Ophelia stood in the shadows of the woods, watching the fire gut the house. In the dazzling glow of the flames, she had seen her mother and brother trying to get to the baby and calm the blaze.

Grace's sobs grew heavy as the soot from her hands now covered her face. Her long black satiny hair hung loose and tangled around her head. Polo held his mother close, rocking her in his arms.

The fire raged on before them, consuming the house.

"Mama, we couldn't do nuthin'," said Polo. "The baby was 'sleep when we went next door. It wasn't nothing burning in the house. The stove wasn't even on. The baby was 'sleep."

"How we gon' tell Ophelia about the baby?"

The look of terror and questioning in his mother's eyes frightened him.

"I think she already know. Look like she came from out by the barn. That's why she standing by them trees."

"What was she doing over there?" Grace asked. She was almost hysterical.

"I'on know, Mama. She always be in the barn." He rocked his mother faster. "She ain't crying or even coming over here to ask 'bout the baby. I'on know, maybe she in shock. I guess she already knows he's dead."

At those words, Grace fell onto her son's chest and began to cry...