the top he got back on and rode the bike alongside the fields, marvelling at the ripening fruits and vegetables. His children had done this and his chest swelled tight with pride. He pedalled harder.
Inside the outhouse, Pater snapped awake at the sound of a loud noise. He continued to sit for some time before he eventually stood up, swayed and fell down again. He tried again, holding onto the privy walls for support. He hitched his pants up and pushed the door open just as Hap cycled into it.
___
As the Landlord’s body lay on the floor in a slowly congealing pool of blood, Jones raced up the ladder to begin freeing Marvellous. Bull climbed up after him. They gently lowered her to the floor where Jelly and Narrow untied her. Forest still knelt on the floor, his head in his hands. Grunting with the effort, Porkchop rolled Pierre onto his back; he awoke briefly, looked into her eyes and smiled and passed out again. Santa crawled over to Mixer's side. His eyes were now closed. She couldn't feel his heartbeat when she took him into her arms and held him tight against her chest. She hummed softly to him.
They were interrupted by a voice at the door. Pater stood in the doorframe, one arm wrapped around his son’s waist to prop him upright.
"Your father’s here."
Beyond the door Porkchop saw the clouds begin to break up and a single ray of sunshine fall into the yard.
Autumn
When the trees lost their leaves and the last of the harvest had been brought in, Porkchop turned twenty. She and Pierre went to New Key and were married. Pierre kept his post as Constable but successfully petitioned the County to hire a second officer and break up the territory. He still climbed the lookout post ladder most days and patrolled the areas around the farm and up to the outskirts of New Key but now he was free to help his new wife and family and he set to work.
One of the first things he did was rebuild the stone well. The lightning bolt that had shattered it and cooked the cure-all that Mixer had dumped in there smoked for hours and perfumed the air with its strange scent.
Pater continued to live in the house and take his share of the rent. In deference to her grandfather's age, Porkchop arranged for her new husband to move his still from Honey Hill to a newly built shed in one corner of the yard so that he no longer had a reason to disappear for days at a time. Titania also stayed on in the house with him. Now, when did go missing, she almost always found him asleep in the shed, with his still. She liked listening to Pater’s stories and his lies, like when he would rant and rave about how weak his son was. He didn’t have to see his son much as he had returned to work the orchard for Mrs. Baker.
Mrs. Baker had indeed known about her nephew's shady business dealings and his occasional womanizing, but was shocked to learn all that he had done. She knew the Constable well enough to know he wouldn't bring charges against her nephew's estate, although he had the legal right to do so. But she was also shrewd enough to know that appeasing his sense of fair play would be best for everyone, herself included. She raised Hap's and Marvellous' wages, and paid bonuses and wages for the children's labour. At first she considered deeding the land immediately to Marvellous, but in the end she changed her own will to give it to her when she died. Having a tenant gave her a reason to keep in touch with her now only living relative. She took over the operation of the Piggy Gristle, quickly making it into a more respectable tavern, and buried her nephew in the town’s cemetery.
The children returned to the orchard to live with their father and aunt but came back to the farm several times a year. At planting and harvest times they would move back into the barn for weeks at a time. Narrow devised a rope and pulley system from the base of Spoon Valley to the edge of the farm so that Jelly could easily transport plants or tools up or down.
As Titania had plunged the glass into the Landlord Mixer had felt himself being pulled back into his own body. He eventually awoke and turned his blue eyes to his sister. In time, Mixer became as loving a little boy as Santa always knew he could be. He started walking on his own and lost much of the baby fat he’d had. His rear end was still large but it no longer threatened to topple him over. He spoke, the halting, hopeful speech of any other three-year-old. The rest of his family came to love him. Santa sang to him each night at bedtime.
"Night, night Mixer," she said at the end of the song. She tucked him in.
"Night, night Santa." Mixer yawned and was soon asleep. He dreamed that he was hungry.
###
About the Author
Sharon Boddy lives in Ottawa, Canada where she makes a living as a professional writer and editor, specializing in environmental issues. When she isn't doing that, she can often be seen cackling over vats of soup or enticing things to grow from crummy soil.
Connect with her at https://sharonboddy.wordpress.com or read more of her fiction at Oddz 'N Sodz (https://oddznsodz.blogspot.ca/).
Acknowledgements
Thanks to all the folks who read a draft or drafts of this novella. Acronyms and nicknames have been used to protect the innocent: MEOW, the FC, my seesters, a few others who are quite shy and would prefer to go nameless, and of course the hubster, the only one to have read an early fifty-page draft that had a host of other characters and a whole other plot line. A special shout out to Lizard who was often forced to listen to me kvetch and gnash my teeth whenever I got stuck. Lastly, thank you to whoever dropped or lost his belt on Cavan Street. This story wouldn't exist if hadn't been for that bit of leather on the road.
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