“I didn’t did dat!”
Pushing open the door of the cottage kitchen, Nigel took a moment to remove his hat and hang it on the peg before he called out in a loud voice, “Where’s my Sweet Tea?”
The result of this was a sudden cacophony for which he should be prepared by now, but which never failed to take him a little by surprise.
There were shrieks of, “Daddy!” followed by a tumble of limbs, a pounding of feet, a crashing of walls and stairs, all punctuated by enthusiastic yips from the young black-and-white dog, who accompanied the other two noisemakers everywhere they went.
Nigel dropped to one knee even as this storm of chaos descended upon him.
He soon found himself half-strangled by scrawny arms, jabbed in the kidneys by knobby knees, and thunked in the shoulders by a pair of muddy paws.
This last sent him sprawling to the flagstones in a jumble of limbs and giggles. Again, he never was truly prepared.
Having recovered his breath somewhat, Nigel managed to unhook the clasp of the neck-grabber and draw her back from him to get a clear view of a little girl’s apple-cheeked face. “Oh no,” he said, his brow creasing with concern. “Is that a busted lip I see?”
“Yeah, I gotta booboo!” the child declared, manipulating her sweet features into a tragic expression. “Alfie bited me!”
“No, I didn’t!” the kidney-jabber protested with great indignance. “Loni was tryin’ to get a cookie outta the box, and she fell off the counter and busted her lip!”
“I didn’t did dat!”
Nigel looked from his son to his daughter. His son maintained a firm scowl, but the girl child hid her mouth behind her hand and giggled, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “Apolonia Lavender,” Nigel said a bit sternly, “tell me the truth, now.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I did did dat.”
“You did did?”
“Yeah.”
“And why were you trying to steal a cookie, Loni? I know your Auntie Arabella gives you plenty of sweets.”
“But she din’t let us eat the new cookies!”
“What new cookies?”
“The Green Yule cookies what have all the glitter!”
“You mean the baked ornaments? For the Winter’s Heart Tree?”
“Yeah!”
“Loni, sweetness, those are nothing but flour and baking soda. They’re not edible.”
“But they look so yummy!”
Nigel shook his head and tussled his daughter’s hair, even as he picked himself up off the kitchen floor. “Well, I hope we learned a valuable lesson from our misdeeds today, at least.”
“Yes, Daddy!”
“And what did we learn?”
“Next time,” Loni declared solemnly, “I’s gonna use the chair.”
Nigel was just opening his mouth to impress a more pertinent moral upon his offspring, but they were both spared by the arrival of Auntie Arabella, who bustled into the kitchen with a blue-eyed baby on her hip, crying, “Oh, Nigel, luv, there you are!” She held the baby out at arm’s length.
“She set up such a fuss and bother about two minutes ago. I figured you must be coming through Garden.”
Staggering a bit under the combined weight of scrawny arms wrapped around each trouser leg, Nigel reached to take the baby, saying, “There’s my Sweet Tea!
” The little tot uttered a shriek of pure delight, extending dimpled hands to grab hold of his tie, which she promptly pulled out from his waistcoat.
Then she bit his nose with affectionate delight, slobbering happily.
“Galatea Chamomile,” Nigel said, grinning under her attentions, “I swear you’ve grown today, haven’t you? ”
“I growed too, Daddy!” Alfie declared. “See how high I can reach?” He stretched his arms over his head while standing up on his toes.
“Wow, Alfred,” Nigel said, holding out his hand and pretending to measure the top of his son’s head. “Would you look at that? You have indeed grown. You must have drunk your milk like a good boy at lunch today.”
“I did, and I et all my greens, and I closed my eyes for fifteen whole minutes, like Auntie said to. So I’m big now!”
“What a man,” Nigel praised warmly. Then he looked around, brows rising. “Where’s everyone’s shoes? Mummy’s waiting you know.”
With more shrieking and more barking from the black-and-white dog and some hissing from the striped cat by the stove, the children charged back through the house, making for the coat closet. In a moment of relative peace, Nigel addressed himself to Arabella, saying, “And how did we behave today?”
“Oh my lands, they’re a precious lot!” Arabella smiled enormously.
“We baked our Green Yule ornaments this afternoon, and I had such a time convincing that Loni of yours not to stuff them in her sweet mouth.” She sighed a little wistfully and swiped a finger at the corner of her eye.
“She’s so like her mother, that one! Nothing but trouble.
” Then, with a little snap of her fingers, she said, “Now hold on a moment while I fetch my coat and hat. And a bottle of that sherry Rory likes. You know she won’t touch spirits any other time of year, but every Green Yule, she’ll toast the goddess ten times over, and I do so like to see her go all giggly! ”
While waiting for the rest, Nigel bounced Baby Tea on his hip and straightened her little dancing-mushroom bonnet. As he did so, he spoke to her quite earnestly about her day and doings, while she answered with her one-word vocabulary.
“And who did you miss most of all while Daddy was at work?”
“Da-da-dada-da!”
“And who did you promise all your hugs and kisses to as soon as he came home?”
“Da-DA-da-da!”
“That’s my Sweet Tea,” Nigel smiled and submitted his cheek for a good slobbering.
“Can Baron Von Sniffington come too?” Alfie asked, marching back into the kitchen with his shoes on the wrong feet but the laces proudly tied by his own two hands. The black-and-white dog bounced enthusiastically around his knees.
“As long as you can make him behave,” Nigel answered and held up a warning finger. “If he waters the shop flowers, he’ll have to go back into Garden, understood?”
“Yes, Daddy!”
“What about Lady Meowbelle Pounce?” Loni asked, heaving the cat into her arms so that it dangled most pathetically. It cast Nigel a look of long-suffering desperation.
“It looks as though Lady Meowbelle could use a quiet evening at home,” Nigel said.
His daughter’s lip began to pucker, and she looked so much like her mother in that moment, he very nearly gave in to her wishes then and there.
But, for the poor feline’s sake, he stood firm.
“Come on, Loni-girl. You know Debbie hates cats, and she’ll want to spend time with you this evening. ”
At this promise, Loni promptly dropped her striped friend, who made a beeline for freedom, body long, low, and skulking. She vanished up the back stairs, leaving Nigel to inspect his brood. “Teeth brushed? Hair combed? Buttons buttoned? Very good. Who’s in charge of the tree ornaments?”
“I am!” Alfie declared proudly and claimed the box from the counter, holding it over his head while his sister jumped around him making grabby hands.
“Very well. Let’s be off then. We’ve got some decorating to do before everyone starts arriving.”
So saying, he led them out the door into the magically-warmed atmosphere of Tealeaf Cottage, surrounded by the wild vistas of the snow-covered Crimble Mountains, which towered above them in pristine majesty.
On Green Yule’s Eve, they would all bundle up in coats and scarves and hats and make a drive down into Greater Snoring to attend the midnight service at the old chantry house.
There they’d listen to a dry sermon given by the old vicar, light their candles, sing the traditional hymns, share the Green Feast, and blow on their fingers to keep them warm in the old, unheated stone building.
But there was no need for scarves or any warding off of winter’s chill this evening. For, as Nigel ushered his little brood through the garden gate, they stepped into Garden itself, where all was warm and lush and green as ever.
Alfie and Loni raced on ahead, heedless of Arabella’s cries to please, mind the ornaments. “Mother love us!” she declared. “It’ll be a miracle if they’re not all shattered to bits by the time we get there!”
Nigel wasn’t worried, however. He knew his eldest was a responsible young fellow, for all he was not-quite-six years old. Conscientious and determined, he would see the ornamental cookies arrived safe and sound.
A glow of pride swelled in Nigel’s breast as he watched the two of them—both so small, innocent, round-cheeked, and semi-feral.
Both so full of individual personhood and uniqueness.
Just like the little angel in his arms, who bounced and squeaked and kicked her feet, eager to be running after her two older siblings.
Which she would be doing quite soon now, unless Nigel missed his guess.
He held her a little tighter at that thought, not quite ready to relinquish the baby-stage. It always went by so fast.
Garden wound a delightful path beneath their feet as they crossed its broad grounds.
It sent flowers blooming in greeting, including a nice display of taeral tea plants for Auntie Arabella’s benefit.
It knew her favorites. She ran her hand through the leaves, chuckling with delight.
For the most part, she and Auntie Aurora continued to harvest from their own magical garden, but she certainly appreciated the magnificence of this much larger, much grander work of Green Magic.
“Thank you for watching the children today,” Nigel said as he and Arabella strolled swiftly down the path. “Luna appreciated the chance to buckle in and prepare for tonight’s festivities.”
“Oh, you know it’s always my pleasure,” Arabella replied. “And Rory’s too.”