Conversation with Leah and Baird

I sit at a front table at the coffeehouse. I look out the plate glass window -- outside, the incessant rain punctuates my gloomy mood. I watch two people rush inside, looking wet and miserable. The tall man shakes droplets out of his black curls and the woman, long blonde hair tangled from the storm, playfully swats the man in the shoulder. He laughs at her. "You'll need to get a lot stronger for that to even begin to hurt, Leah."

They look young, she just out of high school and he in his early 20's.  They lean close to each other as they speak, not quite touching. I can feel the tension of their not quite touching, and understand their plight more than they themselves: they are young and in love, and they do not want to be.

Then the woman glances around and spies me. She taps the man's shoulder and draws his attention toward me. They make a beeline toward my table. "May we sit down?" the woman asks. "We need to talk to you."

It's then I realize who they are. "Leah Inhofer," I noted as the two sat down. "And Baird Wilkens, right?"

"Of course you know us," Leah acknowledges as she sat down. "You're the writer." 

Baird brushes a lock of wet curly hair out of his eyes. "You wanted to talk to us."

"Yes, I did," I admit. "It's time to write about the two of you, and I need to get a better feel for you." I pause. "You first, Baird. You're a Nephilim and you were born not that long ago. Who are you?"

"True on both counts," Baird notes. "It's been about a year, but luckily, being a Nephilim, I became very quickly. I fell into the agricultural concern at the Dance, sensing that farming was where I could serve best. I found myself gravitating to the Maker mythos of the Archetypes rather than Leah's Christianity -- "

"Not my Christianity," Leah corrects. "I don't know what I believe, I don't judge like my parents' God does." Leah shifts in her seat. "My parents don't approve of me hanging out with Baird, because he's a Nephilim. They can't handle that he's not fully human, because it calls into question all they believe as Christians. His father's an Archetype -- too much like an angel and not enough like one for Dad's liking."

Baird shrugs. "I don't like that at all. I have to work with him, and he's cordial enough to me, but he doesn't like Leah spending time with me."

I suspect there is more to Mr. Inhofer's discomfort than Baird's parentage, but I keep quiet. 

"Leah," I ask. "What are you doing now that you're out of high school?"

"I'm waiting. My goal is to get to college and then vet med school, or at least vet tech training. We need a vet at Barn Swallows' Dance. I'm trying to get in at the University." 

Baird looks at Leah pensively. "Baird?" I ask. "Are you going to stay at the Dance?"

He shakes his head as if clearing it. "Oh, sorry," he murmured. "My mind wandered." 

 "Earth calling Baird," Leah teased. "Come in, Baird." Baird's pale cheeks took on a rosy tone as he looked down his nose at Leah. 

Baird smiles, and I see something in his smile that Leah doesn't, a longing. It's not my business to tell, I realize. Only to write.