Page 7 of Alder Woodacre and the Acorns of Affection (Amaranthine Interludes #3)
Winter reasserted itself just as February was reaching its midpoint. When snowfall reached blizzard conditions, Roonta-kiv and Kurloo-dex joined the family for breakfast and calmly insisted that the Reaversons remain indoors. The wolves would look after the farm and its animals.
“Umm … is it okay if …?” began Joe, embarrassed when all eyes turned his way. He eased into a pleading posture. “Are the squirrels all right?”
Kip rolled his eyes, but said, “I’ll check. School’s closed, so I don’t have to hurry to work.”
Mom protested, “You should stay home!”
“When it gets this cold, Ash and I have to keep an eye on the boiler and the pipes.”
“He’s away until Monday,” she fretted. “Can you handle it on your own?”
“It’s fine, really. Only real trouble is if the snow piles up too high on the roof. If it becomes a problem, I’ll call these guys for backup.”
The wolves’ agreement settled the matter.
Half an hour later, Kip delivered a clingy Bush into Joe’s arms. “Push and Lush are burrowing in the hay mow with their mates, but this layabout has volunteered to be your lap-warmer.”
Bush nuzzled Joe’s cheeks and flicked his tail at Kip, as if to shoo him away.
“I am not,” grumbled Kip.
Joe wondered what Bush had said.
Kip sighed. “I have a job to do.” And to Joe, “He’s questioning my priorities.”
“Why?”
“He thinks I should be burrowing, too.” And with a sharp look at his brother, he softly added, “That’s not how it is.”
Whatever Bush said next, it sent color into Kip’s cheeks as he backed toward the door. “Not sure when I’ll be back. Depends on the storm.”
Joe wanted to remind Kip that they’d had plans. Or to be careful. But he simply said, “See you, Alder.”
He must have let something intangible slip, because his bondmate’s eyes widened. But then his gaze switched to Bush, and he gruffly said, “If my brother gives you any trouble, chuck him out the nearest window.”
And he was gone.
Hugging Bush, Joe mumbled a disheartened, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Bush placed his front paws on Joe’s cheeks and chirred sympathy.
Planning a new maze was a project that Grandad had always shared with Joe, but slowly, steadily, the planning had become something that Joe had shared with Grandad.
Aging was part of life, but it had been hard to watch George Reaverson’s strength fade.
He’d been carefully tended by Kurloo, who was one of the Nightspangle tributes.
Also, Celedon Sweetgum, who’d joined the enclave to serve as Biddie’s chronicler, had befriended Grandad, plying him for stories about the founding of the farm and coaxing for memories before they could fade.
Joe suspected that both Kurloo and Celedon had been tending the old man, who’d still wanted to tour the farm every day. Sometimes he’d take the tractor, but more and more, he’d rest quietly in Kurloo’s arms.
When his days came to an end, Biddie had taken Georgie-boy for herself, giving him a place beside Lisbet, the sister who’d been raised as his twin.
And that next year, the corn maze had been a tribute to George Reaverson’s life, bringing together elements from the many mazes he’d designed over the years.
Kip had helped Joe plan that maze.
Joe had needed the help. Still wanted it.
“What are you thinking for this year?” asked Dad, who came to sit at the table with Joe.
“Not sure.” Joe picked up a graph paper tablet and set it down again, then pushed pencils into a row.
“Sometimes it feels like we’ve done everything that could be done, but then a new theme presents itself, and off you go. Nursery rhymes. Bedtime stories. Fables and folklore.” Dad trailed off, then quietly asked, “You aren’t really listening, are you, Joe?”
“Umm … what? Oh. Sorry. I was just thinking … it’s kind of … late.”
“You worried about Kip?”
Joe shrugged. The blizzard had lasted two full days, but it had petered out yesterday. Tami had decided that school would be back in session tomorrow. But Kip hadn’t been home yet.
Dad said, “You know how it is. He gets to talking with somebody. And people do love to feed him.”
“I know.”
“Did you want me to check with Tami? She might know something.”
Joe rearranged his piles again. “No thanks. Sorry. I should probably just … get some sleep.”
“Sure, sure. This’ll keep.”
It could.
It would have to.
Because Kip had stood him up.
But it wasn’t fair to blame the guy for a blizzard.
Even so, Joe had been looking forward to having Kip to himself.
This was one of Ash’s weekends away, but by morning, he’d be home, leaving all of Joe’s budding hopes buried in snow.
Iced over so it felt like nothing would ever bloom.
Maybe it shouldn’t have been a big deal, but … it hurt.