Chapter Thirty Seven

Saradoc opened the door and was instantly met by the gust of a cool breeze....and light stabbing his post-hangover eyes. He shaded them with one hand, quickly shutting the door behind him with the other when he heard Eglantine shriek something about cork stoppers blowing off the table and having to wash them again. A slight hint of a grin could be seen on his face.

The afternoon remained clear, but a blast of cool air sent a chill through Saradoc that reminded him that appearances can be deceiving. He wished he’d brought his cloak but decided the warmth of the sun should warm him up soon enough. He would weather the lower temperatures. He rolled down his shirtsleeves and pulled up his shirt collar against his neck.

He found his wife and the children doing just as Eglantine said, but she forgot to mention the smiles and laughter. Something stirred in his heart. Saradoc felt he wanted to preserve this moment in his mind forever. He stood rooted for a few minutes and surveyed the ring of chairs where his wife, his son Merry, two of his nieces and his nephew sat wrapped in their own cloaks and blankets, all enjoying the afternoon sun.

He thrust his hands deep into his pockets as another chilly breeze swept by his bare hands. He could barely make out the hint of a tale that his nephew was recounting. The wind would blow snatches of the high-pitched voice and scatter the words before they reached his own ears. He watched as the boy became animated with his hands and expression on his face. The rest of the children paused in their snapping--being enchanted by the charm of a charmer. One niece put a hand to her mouth before erupting in laughter, as did the rest of the group, signaling the end of the story. Saradoc was a little sad that it had ended. Watching this little group for the last few minutes brought joy to his weary bones.

At last he approached the ring of chairs. There were three baskets that sat on the ground in the center of the ring. One of these was set up for the discarded ends from the peas and bean shoots; the other two were set up to keep the peas and beans separate.

His wife looked up and squinted in the sunlight, “Hullo, Sara.”

Saradoc heard the restrained admonishment in her voice. “Hullo, love,” he said as he bent down and kissed her.

One of the girls chuckled, “It’s going to take a little more than that, Uncle Sara, if you want to make up!”

“Pimpernel Took!” Pervinca chided her older sister.

The old Saradoc would have shrunk away and buried himself in his work inside his study. The new Saradoc--which was actually the Saradoc before his firstborn had died--emerged strong. He smirked, jesting back with his niece, “And how would such a sweet maiden know about that?”

Pim blushed, but quickly recovered. She could take it as well as dish it out. “Well, not much in that area I’m afraid, but all I know is that if my husband tipped a bottle--and without so much as inviting me--he’d have some mighty paying up to do!” This brought a chorus of laughter from all around--even Esmeralda smiled--except Merry. Pim poiinted to an empty chair her father occupied before heading back out to the fields, “Why don’t you sit with us for a while?” She took the blanket lying on the seat and tossed it to her uncle.

Saradoc quickly pulled out one of his hands from his pockets and caught the blanket mid-air. Applause from the young hobbits--again, with the exception of one whom made it seem as if his hands were a bean-mill. Merry ignored the stares from all around, focusing on the task at hand. He then tossed the results of his handiwork into the separate waiting baskets. Saradoc watched his son’s hands work feverishly; all to in aid to avoid a dialogue with his father. Saradoc knew that humor was the prevailing sentiment today and decided to use it to break the ice. He wrapped the extra blanket around his shoulders and sat down in the chair. “Must I work that fast? I don’t believe I can keep up with that one!”

“Then you’re sacked!” Pim teased with a wry grin. She loved her dearest cousin and wanted to see an amicable end to this silence.

“Goodness, then how in the Shire will I provide for my family? My nineteen-year-old niece has just given me the boot!”

After an uneasy moment Pippin piped up. “I know!” He said, “I will hire you to shovel the cow and pony dung in the barn for me!”

Saradoc could see Merry turning his head in the other direction hiding his smile, and all the while still working the beans sitting in his lap. The ice was melting...some. “Why thank you, Master Pippin! Does this employment include feeding the chickens and milking the cows?”

“Why yes it does!” Pippin added matter-of-factly, “and it also includes making my bed and cleaning my room everyday.”

The laughter died down and silence followed once again. Nervous tension threatened to fill the air. It was Pervinca who broke it this time. “Are you returning to Buckland tomorrow, Uncle?”

“I had planned on it,“ he answered, looking at Esmeralda, “but plans can always be changed.”

Esmeralda sighed, “Well...I would like to stay on another day or two. Would that be possible?”

“Then it is done--if Paladin and Tina are able to put up with us for two additional days.”

“Good,” Said Pervinca, “Aunt Essie, I would love it if you would help us with our jam preserves! All I can imagine these days is the taste of your blackberry jam on my tongue!”

“Mmmmmm!” From all the children, though Merry was still quiet. He was still busy with the beans, but at the same time he seemed to be running out of steam.

Silence followed yet again, and then Merry finally spoke, “My mum makes the best blackberry jam in all of Buckland.”

Saradoc was delighted--yet was careful with his own response, “That she does!” A twinkle shone in his eyes, “Spread over a hot biscuit with a pat of butter!”

Pervinca’s stomach growled, “Please don‘t! Speaking of food like that--and just before teatime!”

The banter continued back and forth between Saradoc and the children, except for Merry--his little statement would be all he’d say to the group--or to his father this afternoon.