𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐒

5. Mathematics, Among Other Things

Lydia hummed Aaron's song under her breath —Bach's cello suite— as she slowly ascended the stairs, one step after the other. She peered at the pictures and drawings hanging on the wall, a clutter of circles and triangles, squares and rectangles, in a scattered plethora of pastel-colored frames. Each one had a snapshot or child's drawing. Ponies and superheroes, spaceships and castles. The pictures slowly grew more and more crowded as Lydia climbed the steps, faces filling in the photos until the portraits looked like they were about to burst.

"—almost," a pained, forcefully patient voice said, strained. Lydia quirked a smile. Math. "You just need to— to—"

"Like this?" Beckett's voice wavered, like he was on the verge of tears.

Silence. Then— a sigh of defeat, and a tired, "Yeah. Sure, kid, that's fine. Go and play."

There was an explosion of sound as Beckett scrambled out his chair, sprinted for the door, and threw it open.

In the doorway, Lydia threw her hands up, popping her hip. Beckett gawked at her. "Surprise!"

"AHHH!" Beckett screamed, and launched himself at her. She caught him, laughing, swinging them in a happy circle.

A tall-ish man with a halo of cherubic brown curls, a beard with wispy curls at the end, and meaningful brown eyes appeared in the doorway that Beckett had leapt from. "Who's this?" he asked politely.

Beckett's face was buried in Lydia's waist, so his response fell out in a muffled jumble.

"Lydia, nice to meet you," she held out a hand, still holding Beckett to her. The man reached out hesitantly, shaking her hand, then letting it go as quickly as he could within the limits of propriety. Lydia gave him a ferociously bright smile. He leaned back apprehensively.

"I'm Abdel. How... do you know Beckett?" he asked, his voice bordering on suspicion.

Beckett broke away from his hug to breathlessly proclaim, "I-ran-into-her-in-the-woods-and-she-helped-me-go-home-oh-she-fell-out-of-a-car-it-was-an-adventure-and-I-love-her." Then he dove back into her skirts.

Lydia smiled, explanatorily. "Well, all that was true." Her gaze darted over Abdel's shoulder, through his room, where a wide window revealed the grey sky over ripe grain fields. "Hey, look Beck, it's raining again!"

It was raining again. The clear skies from that morning had darkened to swelling, heavy clouds that released cold droplets down onto the earth. Beckett peeked out from Lydia's leg, eyes round as coins.

"Now we can't go to my hill," he said sadly. "The grass is too wet."

Lydia nudged his cheek. "That never stopped the ducks, did it?"

He gave her a look. "...No, I guess not."

"Then why should it stop us? C'mon, Shortround, get your adventure gear on!" she crowed. "We're going out!"

Beckett squealed and ran for his room. Lydia cackled and thundered downstairs, whooping all the way.

"In the— in the rain?" Abdel spluttered behind them. "You're gonna catch a— Beckett! You're GONNA CATCH A COLD!"

Lydia's resounding yodel was his only response.

Downstairs, Mara and Ginger were having tea. A little jar of sugar cubes, hand-pressed by Beckett and Fiona (but mostly Fiona) a few months ago. There was a pot of golden honey, two saucers, a china patterned teapot, and a plate of sliced bread. Maisie had a charcuterie board in her lap, and rolled herself from the kitchen counter to the dining table.