Page 36 of Alder Woodacre and the Acorns of Affection (Amaranthine Interludes #3)

A warming trend pulled Joe’s attention away from the abundance of distractions, reminding him that planting season wasn’t far off. He was honestly embarrassed to have dawdled over the maze design for so long. Once again, he sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by papers and pencils.

Dad eyed the mess on his way out. “You could probably do all this much faster on the computer, you know. Your grandad was stubborn, but there’s nothing wrong with a little innovation.”

“I know. But this suits me.”

“Guess it does.” Dad’s gaze gentled. “Nothing wrong with upholding tradition, either.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as his parents’ bedroom door closed, a rustling came from behind the door to the back stairs, which doubled as a kind of pantry. Kip leaned out, a box of graham crackers under his arm. “Thanks for covering for us.”

Jarrah squirmed past him, a jar of peanut butter hugged to his chest. “Are we in trouble?”

“You were hungry, weren’t you?” asked Joe.

Kip said, “Starved.” Even though he’d put away a whole lot of chili and corn muffins only a few hours ago.

“My folks wouldn’t want you to go hungry.” Joe mildly added, “There’s milk in the fridge.”

The house was quieter these days—at least between meals—since the crossers tended to hang out at Harrison’s.

But if Joe was awake, then Jarrah wasn’t far from his side.

Actually, Joe woke up most mornings with Jarrah snuggled close, watching and waiting.

And Kip would be right there with him, smiling like he’d pulled off the best prank.

Jarrah carefully wielded a butter knife, spreading peanut butter on crackers.

Kip gave himself a milk moustache, then called their meeting to order. “Acorns, huh? I really do like it as a starting point. I mean, for me, they’ve always been tokens of affection.”

Jarrah said, “I thought it was your crest.”

“Oh, man. Didn’t I tell you about my dad?”

“Burl?”

“He loves all his children, but I was a real oddball, being Kith-kin and all. Once I sorted out my speaking form, I was off and running, but he wanted to keep a connection. And for him, that meant acorns.”

Jarrah gave himself a milk moustache. “How can an acorn do that?”

Kip casually said, “Check your pockets.”

The boy patted at his and came up empty.

“I meant this guy.”

Joe did a similar check and came up with two fistfuls of acorns, which he heaped at the center of the table.

It was nostalgic. Early on, there had been sneaky acorns.

Back then, Kip had been coaxing for trust. They’d been tokens of friendship.

And maybe even an offer of kinship, because while bondmates weren’t always lovers, they were definitely counted as family.

“How come Joe gets all your affections?”

Kip propped his chin on his fist. “Most, for sure, but not all. Are you sure you checked properly?”

Jarrah squawked in surprise and came up with three acorns. “One for each,” he declared.

Because he wanted a part in their affection.

Because they might be just right together.

Maybe it wasn’t fair to try, not when he hadn’t asked Kip or Argent or even Jarrah what they thought, but Joe wanted this enough to do what he usually did. Give the ones he cared about a reason to stay.

“Make a maze with me?”

Jarrah glanced at Kip, like he didn’t think Joe was talking to him.

“I used to help Grandad when I was your age.” Joe unfolded one of the plans that Jarrah had been looking at the other day.

“I didn’t ever plan the whole thing, but parts were my idea.

We fit it all together in fun ways. Now, I share the tradition with Kip, but since you’re here …

.” Meaning more and meaning it from the bottom of his heart, Joe repeated, “Make a maze with me?”