Page 31 of Alder Woodacre and the Acorns of Affection (Amaranthine Interludes #3)

Kip had been … well, not worried exactly. But watchful.

He’d wanted to share something personal with Jiro, and this property was almost the only thing that was truly his.

Except for Coach, of course, but Coach was a goner.

However, there was no denying that this cabin was something he’d always shared with Ash.

Moving in together had been a dream come true.

And it had been good. Almost everything Kip had ever wanted.

He didn’t want it to seem like he was flaunting his former hopes. But what else could he do? He wanted to be himself, and this was the kind of idiot he’d always been.

Jiro didn’t seem jealous.

He cared about Ash, too.

And his scent was clear and bright and hopeful. So Kip forced his way out of his own head and gave the grand tour. Today was perfect for it. Warm enough to make you think that spring was right around the corner. In the sunniest spots, snow slumped into grassy puddles.

Joe toed something on the ground and bent.

Kip paused to see what had caught his eye.

He came up with a couple of acorns.

“What are those for?” Kip asked lightly.

“Not sure yet. Maybe they’ll come in handy?”

Kip snorted. “If it’s acorns you want—good ones—I’ll let you raid my stash.”

That earned him a smile.

And it was like the whole grove basked in it.

“Whoa. I think something’s working.”

“Really? How can you tell?”

“It’s like … okay, it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen anywhere but with you.” Kip admitted, “I don’t know what to compare it to except tending, but that’s probably only because it’s all you. Always.”

Jiro stood there, calm and quiet, a couple of nippets on his shoulder. “Want to know what it reminds me of?” he asked.

“Tell me.”

“I’ve been to Japan … a few times? Since I was really little.

To visit Mom’s parents. The way they do things, what they believe, it’s different from here.

There are shrines in every home, around every corner.

Humble things can have significance, like …

a tree or a stone can become a focal point of faith. ”

“And you like that …?” Kip ventured. It sure felt that way.

“Sort of. I always kind of liked how everything connected. Things were remembered and respected, and there was this sense of expectation. Like … that tree or stone could hear you out and maybe do something. Make a difference.”

“Trees like Biddie.”

Jiro nodded. “The way it sounds to me … if I really am able to influence the farm … doesn’t that make me like a landbound deity?”

Kip thought that over. “I’d definitely buy that Impressions influenced the idea that we can have a special connection to nature. And what you’re doing is … I mean, it’s miraculous. So in a way, you’re like Red Gate Farm’s god.”

“Oh! Umm … no, not really.” Jiro waved that off. “It’s just a comparison.”

“But you can bring a blessing to the places you go.”

He looked so skeptical. It was like he didn’t even notice the whirr of midivar wings or the way pitterhind sat on the ground at his feet, gazing up at him. Even the quality of light seemed to shift, as the whole grove caught his calm, embraced his contentment, and drew from his strength.

Kip couldn’t help but wonder what might happen if Jiro was barefoot here.

And then he was wondering what might happen if Jiro laughed here.

And then he was thinking about other ways to stir up his bondmate’s happiness. And not just to see if that would further bless the land.