Alice gently rocked as four-month-old William nursed. She loved these moments when it was quiet in the cabin, and she had her baby all to herself. Billy was dozing in the bed as she sat in her rocker by the fireplace.

Alice smiled and shook her head, thinking how overprotective Billy had been since she told him she was pregnant. She often had to run him out of the cabin with her broom to get her chores done.

Undoubtedly, Billy would be a great father, and she hoped William would turn out just like his dad. But it had been a long while since she had one of her dreams, and Alice was unsure what the future held.

Bessie had said their "gifts" often diminished as they grew older, probably because their minds were less receptive than when they were younger. Alice knew for sure she and Billy would grow old together and have a wonderful life. She also knew Billy would keep his promise, and they would always be together.

But now she had another life to worry about, and being uncertain about her baby's future was a little scary.

When William had his fill, she placed him over her shoulder and gently patted his back, moving slowly from his waist to his shoulders. She was rewarded with a tiny baby-burp, then set Willam back down in this crib.

Billy was awake, and as Alice climbed back into bed, Billy had a serious look on his face. Alice asked what was wrong, but Billy just stared at her.

Then she saw it: the slightest muscle movement near the corner of his mouth. Billy's eyes changed shape and brightened ever so much. Alice knew what came next.

She pointed her finger at Billy and, in a firm tone, said, "NO!" Then she repeated herself, "I said NO!" But it would not alter what was about to happen. Billy lunged forward.

Billy grabbed Alice, rolled her over on her stomach, and tickled her sides just under her arms. Billy's fingers knew the exact spot to press to get the best response. Alice wiggled and laughed, trying her best to squeeze Billy's strong fingers between her arms and body.

Billy let up for just a second, and Alice didn't hesitate. She quickly flipped him over, rolling Billy onto his back. Now it was Alice's turn, and she mercilessly tickled Billy's tummy and sides.

Alice noticed William was awake and moving about in his crib. She picked William up and placed him on Billy's chest. Alice lay next to Billy as she slowly stroked William's head and arms.

William burped again, this time much louder than before. Billy complimented his son on making a "big boy" burp, and Alice's smile broadened as she watched her husband and son.

As William lay his head down on his father's chest, Alice began to sing a lullaby. It was the same lullaby her mother had often sung to her.

* * * * *

Patience had not been able to sleep. She had come out on the porch and was sitting on the front steps. Rud followed with a blanket and sat down next to her. He wrapped Patience in the blanket, then held her in his arms. They heard William cry, saw the lamp in Billy and Alice's cabin come on, and knew Alice was probably feeding her son.

A short time later, the lamp was turned down, and then they heard Alice's squeals and laughter. Alice had turned the tables on Billy because now Billy was laughing and telling Alice to stop. Rud smiled at the commotion coming from the cabin across the grassy meadow.

Patience was resting her head against Rud's shoulder with her eyes closed, not the least bit interested in whatever Billy and Alice were doing. Rud looked up, and the stars were incredibly bright tonight. In the cool, clear night air, the stars looked closer than ever before and were twinkling rapidly.

Rud nudged Patience and said, "Look up, my love, your mom and dad are smiling." Patience almost gasped when she saw the stars. As Patience admired the sight above, she told Rud that he was right; they were all smiling down at them, his parents and sister too.

When Rud heard Alice singing the lullaby, he told Patience it was time for bed, then picked her up and carried her inside.

* * * * *

The last refrain of the lullaby drifted over the still waters of the lake, and past the half-log bench. Then off the stone buildings where life still endures. Down the central path through the woods, until the words, softer than a whisper, dissipate against the bare rock walls marking the valley floor.

It's quiet now, and the valley deep in the wilderness, sleeps.