When they came to the place of which God had told him, Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. Next he tied up his son Isaac, and put him on top of the wood on the altar. Then he reached out and took the knife to slaughter his son.
But the Lord�s messenger called to him from heaven, �Abraham, Abraham!� �Yes Lord,� he answered. �Do not lay your hand on the boy,� said the messenger. �Do not do the least thing to him. I know how devoted you are to God, since you did not withhold from me your own beloved son.�
GN 22: 9-12
�Dan,� Taylor asked, �where was the angel?�
�What angel?� Dan asked. It was seven PM, but it felt much later. It had been the longest day in the world. He reached out and fixed the covers around Zac. The three of them were sprawled in Dan and Nora�s bed. Nobody had wanted to sleep alone. Nora was still at the hospital.
�The angel that was supposed to save him.� Taylor�s clarification was not much help; Dan still had no idea what he meant.
�The angel that was supposed to save who?� Dan prodded.
Taylor sighed. �Ike.�
�Ike?� Dan repeated, raising an eyebrow.
�In the story, Isaac�s daddy was going to stick him with a knife, and the angel came floating down from the sky, and she was flapping her wings like this.� Taylor demonstrated. �And she told the daddy to stop.�
Inwardly, Dan groaned. The biblical story of Isaac had not been on his mind at all today, and he didn�t know how to explain it to Taylor against what had actually happened to his brother. �Tay. . .�
�There was supposed to be a angel,� Taylor insisted. �A angel with big wings. And a nightgown on. And bare feets, and a bow and arrow with strings on it what makes you fall in love.�
Dan wondered when and where, in Taylor�s six short years of incredibly deprived existence, he�d come across the story of Isaac and Abraham.
�I saw it on TV one time,� Taylor volunteered. �And the TV is always true.� He bit his lip. �And there was the guy on the stairs.�
�What guy on the stairs?� Dan asked.
Taylor shook his head. �He never telled me who he was. We were just going down the stairs one day, and Ike was goin� too fast, and I was trying not to step on any cracks!� His voice rose with remembered indignance. �And so I said, �Ike, slow down.� An� then I said �IKE! Slow down!� An� he wasn�t listening to me, so I yelled �ISAAC, you slow DOWN!� And there was the guy on the stairs.� Taylor closed his mouth, satisfied with his explanation.
�What did the guy on the stairs do?� Dan inquired.
�Oh!� Taylor exclaimed. �I thought I telled you that!�
Dan shook his head. �Nope.�
�Well, he was an old guy,� Taylor went on. �And he had lots of white hair growing out of his nose, like Santa Claus.�
�He had a mustache and beard?� Dan asked.
�No,� Taylor said. �Out of his NOSE.�
�Shh,� Dan whispered. �You�ll wake up Zac.�
�Well, then the old guy said about Isaac that his father tied him up and tried to stick him, but an angel came and made him kill sheep instead. But that�s not how the guy said it. He said it weird, not like normal people talk, and then he put some numbers at the end. Chapters, he said.� Taylor shook his head. �I think he was on drugs, because everyone knows that story�s from TV, not from a book.�
�What did you do?� Dan asked.
�I said, �tell one about me.�� Taylor replied, as if this were the only logical response. �But he didn�t. He started humming to himself. So I said, �my name is Taylor, in case maybe you can�t think of one with me in it right now.� But he never telled me any.� Taylor sighed. �Do you know any stories with me in them?�
�I�ll try to think of one,� Dan promised.
�Because the only one anybody ever knows is the brave little tailor one.� Taylor rolled his eyes. �That�s not about me. I�m not little.�
Dan grinned. �The brave little tailor?�
Taylor covered his ears. �Don�t say it! I hate that story!� His blue eyes threatened to overflow with tears. �I hate that story!�
Dan nodded. �Are there any other stories I could tell you?�
Taylor paused, considering this. �Do you know any of those going to sleep songs?�
�What songs?� Dan asked.
�The going to sleep ones,� Taylor repeated. �The ones that are quiet.�
�Like a lullaby?� Dan wondered.
�No, a going to sleep song,� Taylor insisted. �People sing them at night. To go to sleep. I sing them a lot.�
�To who?� Dan asked.
�To me,� Taylor replied. �I just make them up.� He sighed. �And sometimes to Zac. And sometimes to Ike, but he always gets mad at me when I wake him up to sing him a song, so not very much. And sometimes I make Ike sing me them. But mostly I just sing them to myself, because they�re already asleep.� He shook his head. �Do you ever do that?�
No, Dan couldn�t say he had, not recently anyway. He didn�t want to tell Taylor that, though. �You want me to sing you one, Tay?�
Taylor nodded. �If you don�t know one, you can make it up.�
�I know some.� Dan wracked his brain. �Just give me a minute to think.� He thought, then grinned. �I don�t remember all the words, buddy, but it�s by a guy named James. . .� he smiled, �James Taylor.�
�That�s his last name,� Taylor observed. �Not his firstest name.�
Dan nodded. �That�s right, buddy. Now, I am not a very good singer. . .�
�I am,� Taylor supplied, stating a fact, as opposed to bragging. �The music teacher telled me that I was.�
�I bet you are,� Dan agreed. �You�ll probably be able to sing this song better than me once you learn the words.�
�I want you to sing it, though,� Taylor said. �Not me.�
Dan bit his lip. �Okay, here it goes. Stop me if I hurt your ears.�
Dan was a better singer than he thought he was, but he started out uncertainly. �There is a young cowboy, he lives on the range. . .�
�A cowboy?� Taylor interrupted, brightly.
�Yeah,� Dan agreed.
�Does he have a big gun?� Taylor continued.
�He might,� Dan agreed. �He�s a cowboy.�
�I like this song,� Taylor smiled. �Sing more, Dan.� He bit his lip. �Please?�
�His horse and his cattle, they�re his only companions,� Dan continued. �He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons. . .�
�What�s a canyons?� Taylor asked.
�It�s like a great, big scrape in the ground,� Dan said. �When a river cuts into the ground it makes a canyon.�
�I made a canyons,� Taylor supplied. �It was easy. All you do is take a big stick and drag it really deep into the ground, and it�s a canyons.� He nodded. �Not just rivers make canyonses.� He paused. �Why did you stop singing for?�
�Sorry,� Dan apologized. �Just waiting for summer, his pastures to change.� He took a breath, unsure of the words. �And as the moon rises, he sits by his fire, just a�thinkin� �bout women and glasses of beer. . .�
�Ooh,� Taylor shook his head. �That�s bad. He shouldn�t drink beer.�
�Well, he hasn�t had a beer in a long time,� Dan defended. �Beer every once in awhile is okay.�
�Do you drink beer?� Taylor asked him.
�Yeah, sometimes,� Dan told him. �It�s okay sometimes.�
�Can I have some the next time you do?� Taylor inquired.
Dan was taken aback. �No,� he said. �Not for a long time, buddy.�
�How old will I be after a long time?� Taylor asked.
�Twenty one,� Dan told him, firmly. �Fifteen years from now.�
�But you said it was okay sometimes,� Taylor told him. �And I never had it before. Does it taste good?�
�It�s gross,� Dan assured him.
�Then why do you drink it?� Taylor asked.
�You know how grown-ups like gross foods?� Dan asked.
�Oh, that�s why,� Taylor agreed. �Ew.� He looked at Dan. �You can sing again.�
�Thanks for your permission,� Dan smiled. �Closing his eyes as the dogies retire. . .�
�What�s a dogies?� Taylor asked.
�I have no earthly idea,� Dan told him. �He sings out a song which is soft, but it�s clear, just as if maybe someone could hear. . .�
�So is beer, like, throwing up gross or just gross?� Taylor pressed.
�You develop a taste for it after awhile,� Dan said. �But you have to be twenty-one first. And if you drink too much, you throw up all over everything.�
Taylor nodded, knowingly. �You get a hangover.�
Dan�s jaw dropped open. �How do you know that?�
Taylor shrugged. �Mommy. Can we wake Zac up?�
Dan shook his head. �Nah, let him sleep.�
Taylor sighed, rolling his eyes. �People waste all the time sleeping,� he lamented. �What comes after that?�
�What?� Dan asked. He�d forgotten he was supposed to be singing. The subject had been changed too many times.
�Sings out a song that is soft, but it�s clear,� Taylor sang. �Just as if maybe someone could hear. . .� He stuck out his lower lip. �After THAT!�
�Shh!� Dan whispered. �You�ll wake Zac up.�
�I want to wake Zac up,� Taylor pointed out.
�Well, I don�t want to,� Dan said. �And we aren�t going to.�
�Sing more,� Taylor instructed. �Sing the part that comes next.�
�He says goodnight all you moonlight ladies,� Dan went on, fairly certain about the chorus. �Rockabye, sweet baby James. . .�
�I thought he was alone,� Taylor interjected.
�He is,� Dan said. �Except for the horse and cattle and stuff.�
�Then where did the moonlight ladies and sweet baby James come from?� Taylor demanded.
Dan was at a loss. �They aren�t really there,� he decided, finally. �He�s pretending they�re there. . .�
Taylor shook his head. �That guy needs to get some friends. . .�
Dan grinned. �Deep greens and blues for the colors I choose, won�t you let me go down in my dreams, yes and rockabye sweet baby James. . .�
�What happens next?� Taylor yawned.
Dan paused. Where had he heard that question today?�
�Dan!� Taylor exclaimed. �What happens NOW?�
Dan swallowed. �Now, the first of December was covered with snow, and so was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston. . . Now the Berkshires seemed dreamlike, on account of that frostin�. . .�
�Frosting?� Taylor�s mouth dropped open. �Like on a cake?�
�He�s talking about snow,� Dan exclaimed.
Taylor nodded. �Snow is melty, though. If you stuck birthday candles in it, it wouldn�t be freezed up anymore.�
�No,� Dan agreed.
Taylor blinked sleepily. �What next. . .�
�With ten miles behind me, and ten thousand more to go. . .� Dan yawned himself. �There�s a song that they sing when they take to the highway, a song that they sing when they take to the sea, a song that they sing of their home in the sky, maybe you can believe it, if it helps you to sleep, but singing seems to work fine to me. . .�
�Me too,� Taylor piped. �It works fine to me.�
Dan tousled his hair. �Tay. . .�
�I just wish I knew where the angel was,� Taylor whispered. �Because I kept thinking there would be a angel and I looked to see if I could find one, and I couldn�t.�