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"Bottom of the Ninth"
Rating: PG King of the Hill (3) Archer and Ambassador Cabool laughed quietly. They were sitting in his comfortable living room that overlooked a beautiful garden. Through the open windows they could hear children laughing. Five were the ambassador’s grandchildren and two were Navta and Amy. Occasionally Jon Nathan’s high-pitched squeal of joy broke over them. “You have a good deal of amusing stories, Captain Archer,” Cabool said, picking up his drink sitting on the table nearby. “I’ve had a lot of years to accumulate them.” Archer smiled. “And a lot of people to help me accumulate them. The two men chuckled. Archer sipped the drink he was holding, looking across the room. His smile faded as he turned his ear toward the window. “I remember when I was in the armed forces,” Cabool started, staring into his glass. “There was this recruit that—” “I don’t hear the children,” Archer said, looking out the window. Cabool looked outside. “I’m sure they’re alright.” Archer waited, holding his breath. The lack of laughter was making his stomach tense. He sat his glass down and rose to his feet. “I’m going to go check on them. Just in case.” “I’m sure there’s noth—” A high-pitched cry broke the silence. Archer ran out of the house into the gardens. He saw the children at the end, surrounding one of them. He saw his three charges, so it had to be one of Cabool’s children. Archer reached them and pushed between them to the boy lying on the ground. Archer knelt down, gently taking the arm he was holding. “What happened?” Archer asked. The children didn’t answer. He looked up and they were all looking away, except Jon Nathan who was trying to get closer. “What happened?” Archer insisted. “He was climbing the tree with us,” Amy told Archer, pointing up. Archer looked up at the tree overhead. Nestled in the wide, sprawling branches was a tree house. Archer looked back at her. “If that’s all, why are you all looking so upset? What else happened?” “I told them you’d be mad at us for him falling.” “Why would I be mad?” “Because you didn’t want us in the tree.” Archer turned back to the boy. He checked for broken bones and found only a sprang wrist and bumps and bruises. He turned back to Amy and Navta. “I never said you couldn’t climb the tree, girls. I said Jon Nathan couldn’t and one of you had to keep an eye on him at all times if he came down with us.” Amy and Navta looked at each other. “You’re not mad?” Amy asked. “No.” “Really?” “Really.” “But you get mad when we climb the rafters in the cargo holds and shuttle bays.” “That’s dif… Well, not a lot different. Look, when I was your age I was climbing trees too, girls. I fell out of a few, even broke my arm once. You two are not going to get in trouble for climbing the tree as long as you don’t go higher than the tree house door, like I also told you. Were any of you higher than that?” Archer looked around at them, watching them shake their heads. “Then it’s okay.” “Is Etih okay?” Navta asked “Yes. Just wounded pride.” Archer smiled down at the boy. He returned Archer’s smile. “Go play, kids. And keep an eye on Jon Nathan girls.” The kids ran back to the tree. Navta and Jon Nathan played on the ground while the other kids climbed the ladder and into the limbs. Their laughter filled the air again. Archer stood, smiling. He turned to find Cabool standing behind him. Archer looked down. “I never planned on being a father of any kind,” Archer looked up at Cabool, “but somewhere along the line that happened. Now it bleeds over.” Cabool chuckled, nodding. “I catch myself having that same problem. Etih is all right though?” “Just banged up.” Cabool looked up at the tree. “I remember falling out of this very tree. At least six or seven times. I broke my leg twice, my arm once, but playing push over didn’t help.” “Push over?” “You try to get higher than the other person by pushing them out of your way on a branch. Something I’ve never passed on to my children or grandchildren.” “We called it king of the hill. Never played it in a tree, though.” The two men walked back to the house, sharing memories and stories. |
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