The Tattered Apron

The New Recipe

"Elenore, you are doing it wrong," Orla Plunkett said as she marched over to her ten year old daughter, snatching the rolling pin from her hands and properly rolling out the dough herself. Nellie gripped the edge of the counter and peeked over to see how her mother sped the wood over the soon-to-be pie crust. As she leaned there, a bit of flour speckled onto her nose which caused a small giggle to come out. Orla glanced down and rolled her eyes, wiping off her nose with her apron, "Behave, Elenore," she hissed.

"Come on, love, let her have some fun," laughed her husband, Benjamin as he walked in.

Orla sighed and turned around, her palms still on the counter behind her, "You always pick her side,"

"'Ow can I not," he smiled, "she is our precious princess after all. Come along, dance with me, Lady Plunkett," he bowed, his thick red hair falling in front of his crystal green eyes. "Yes, Papa!" Nellie giggled, running over and stepping on his feet and grabbing onto his hands. Their living space was small, a bed for the children nestled in the corner, books piled high on the fireplace mantel and only enough counter space for one person at a time. "Papa, Papa! Play my song!" Nellie smiled, pointing to a small pianoforte that was tucked between the fireplace and the counter.

"Of course, princess," he smiled. Benjamin sat down, pulling Nellie up on his knee as his fingers danced about the keys, "Sweet Nellie Plunkett, lay in the grass," he sang softly. Benjamin loved his daughter so much, though he and Orla had two sons before her, he knew that his Nellie was special. However, Orla did not see it that way. To her, Nellie was never perfect and always had something to do with any problem. This caused her to be annoyed by anything kind her husband would do for her.

It was two or so hours later, Nellie was happily dozing off on her father's lap, her brothers, Cormac and Declan, were on the floor playing with little wooden dolls Benjamin had carved for them. The setting sun illuminated the small room as Orla opened the front door and walked to the counter where a fresh pie was now cooling off, "Benjamin, I am going to run next door quickly. Drop this off to Mr. Bach,"

"Alright, my love," he replied as Nellie's eyes fluttered open, "I want to go, mother,"

"You are to stay here. You know you do not go near Mr. Bach's property," Orla replied.

"Edmund is a kind fellow, I'm sure it will not hurt to let her work with you," Benjamin argued.

"I said no, Benjamin," she hissed. As she picked up the pie and headed towards the door once more, a sigh escaped her lips, "Perhaps next time, Elenore, dear,"

"Yes, mother," she sighed, nuzzling closer into her father.

Orla took another glance at them, the smallest smile curling up her lips before walking out and closing the door shut behind her. A half hour had already passed now and Nellie could not fall back to sleep. She had thought about what might want her mother to keep her from the neighboring farm but nothing seemed to seem right. She pressed off her father's legs and looked up at him, "Papa?"

"What is it, darling?"

"May I go play outside?"

"Your mother won't like it,"

"She in't here,"

Benjamin sighed, ruffling his daughter's messy blonde curls, "Fine. But only a few minutes,"

Nellie jumped up, flinging her arms around his neck with a huge grin, "Thank you, Papa!"

Nellie made sure her shoes were on tight before tossing her cape around her and running out the door. Her brothers and the neighboring farm hands usually played towards the right of their yard, plenty of space to run and an old swing hung from one of the trees. However, that did not interest Nellie. Her interests were peaked by the farmhouse in the distance that seemed just like a spec off to the left. Though she knew it was wrong, her curiosity had always gotten the better of her.