The Nephew

IT WAS A chilly spring morning, the sun barely peeping over the hills and resting on the town in which we find our story. The grass still wet from the dew caught on to travelers’ boots as they trampled it under foot. The roosters in their warm hutches crowed as the rays of sun warmed their ruby red feathers. It was morning and it was beautiful.

Our story finds us in the wood surrounding a little town of little people. One such being of the Reechon family, Red Reechon to be exact. Now, Red was a Crosset and a Crosset is…well… peculiar to say the least. Standing at 2 feet or less, they are a distant cousin to the Leprechaun (whether they know it or not). Red hair, emerald and jade eyes, adorned with freckles on their pale almost translucent skin, Crossets were known for many things. A few things were their clothing: fine coats of velvet, shirts of silk and embroidery of silver and gold thread, their need for luxury, a green thumb and absolutely no adventure or mischief. They lived a quiet life with no need to poke at the outside world, breathing in a slow life and the love of books, tapestries, and fine foods. Crossets had a fine life…yes. Dear reader, the life of a Crosset was one to be envious of no doubt, but our story would be boring if we were just to talk about the mundane lives of the common folk. No, our story follows a deeper journey through the world with Red Reechon at the helm.

Red lived with his brother Albire and sister-in-law Millie Reechon. He was a lovable creature with a hard head, a heart as big as the moon, and a nose that seemed to get into everyone’s afternoon tea. But this morning was a different morning, he was in the forest outside of his home, throwing rocks at the window of a small cottage where his friend, Marcus Conferriat, lived.

The pebbles tapped the patterned glass with a sharp ring before bouncing back on to the ground below. The young Crosset swung his arm and let the pebbles fly one by one until the window opened and a head of fiery ringlets popped out and a slender Crosset rubbed his eyes. “You do realize it’s six o’ clock in the morning and not even my rooster is crowing yet- might I also add,” he yawned, frustrated that his deep sleep had been interrupted,” it is Saturday.” He crumpled onto the window sill. Red let a silly grin slip onto his ruddy face.

“Aye dear friend, but I have been kicked out of the house.”

Marcus perked up his pointed ears.” Ey? Finally decided that you were too much trouble for Millie? Going to live among the weeds then.” He chuckled, rubbing his eyes awake.”

“No, friend! I get a new family member this day. The baby decided it would be today that he would arrive!” Red exclaimed, throwing a pebble directly at Marcus’ head. It hit him square on his- which wasn’t too hard to do anyways as Marcus did have a rather large head for a Crosset. He winced and rubbed the new mark. “ That was uncalled for- but what happy news! A new wee babe will be fun to spoil! Say…how do you know it’s even a boy?” the Crosset responded, “might even be a,” he faked a gasp, “ a girl.”

Red tapped his rounded belly, “Gut feeling, my friend. Now, come on down so that we can fill our day. Maybe have a smoke and go for a fish. Maybe even find our luck at the tavern? Maybe the barkeep has forgotten who I am.”

His friend chuckled as he grabbed his coat and swung his legs over the window sill and hopped towards the Crape Myrtle tree near his window. “I highly doubt that he does, especially since you rode one of those hotheaded ponies straight through the front door. I still don’t know what you were thinking that day.”

Red shrugged, running his fingers through his curls. “That’s the thing: I wasn’t thinking. Where’s the fun in that anyways?” He grabbed his friend by the shoulder and dragged him along the path. “Marcus, I’m in good spirits. Ask me why.”

“Why are-”

“Because in my heart of hearts I feel like my life will change for the best. Today is a good day dear Marcus. My life is beautiful and it’s because you are in it and the world is my canvas that I can paint any color I would like it to be. Now come, let’s find something to get into-a garden perhaps?” Red laughed, sauntering away as Marcus good naturedly followed along and watched his companion think of ways to get them in trouble.

The afternoon turned dreary as storm clouds rumbled on the horizon, rain drops spattered on Red’s already damp curls as he let his feet dangle in the creek below him. He wondered what life would be like once the baby was born and how it would change everything. He grimaced, babies were foul, loud, and required too much attention. Where was the fun in that? He opened his eyes and looked up at the darkening sky, his life wouldn’t really change that much since he was just the uncle- his sleep schedule would probably upset because the nursery was across the hall from his own bedroom.

“What do you think it will be?” Marcus asked, watching the ripples on the water from the stone he had just skipped.

“Huh?”

“The baby. Boy or girl?”

Red sighed, shrugging. “I want a nephew. I wouldn’t feel too knowledgeable on what to do if it was a girl.” He swung his feet over the pier back onto the solid ground, standing. “We should probably head on back, I want to see if it-whatever it is- is born just yet.”

The two young Crossets lumbered back down the path towards Red’s home, a little yellow cottage with blue eaves and pearly white window sills. Red smiled, he loved his little home and his family. As his feet crossed the threshold of the gate, his sharp ears caught the piercing, melodic cry of a newborn baby from an open bedroom window. His heart turned and tears sprung into his eyes, he didn’t know why except that he knew that this cry was attached to a bairn that would change his life in ways he never knew possible. He paused and Merric slapped him on the shoulder. “Do you hear that?” He asked, his own eyes glistening with excitement. Red could only nod, his heart in his throat. Albire caught his eye as he swung the door open, ushering them inside.

“A son!” He exclaimed, “Come meet your nephew.”

A nephew. The word bounced around in Red’s head. This was real, nothing would ever be the same after today. His family would never be the same and he didn’t know how he felt about that. Red was led upstairs and to the bedroom. Millie was sitting up, propped up by pillows,holding a small bundle. “Come meet your nephew, Red.” She said, smiling with a worn gaze. She was still sweaty and her curls clung to her forehead, but she looked as if she was on top of the world. He stood by the door as if he was frozen in place. Albire grabbed him by the arm, uprooting him and bringing him closer to the bed. He walked over and looked down, a strands of red wavy hair peeked out from underneath the linen.

“Here.” Millie said, offering the baby up to Red’s arms.

He backed away abruptly.

“No I couldn’t. I’ve never held one before. What if I drop it?” He asked. Both Millie and Albire laughed quietly.

“You won’t, I promise. Just cradle his head and hold him as if he were a fresh loaf of bread that you don’t want to wrinkle.” Albire replied. Red nodded and held out his arms, stiff and unsure. Millie placed the little thing in his embrace. The baby opened his eyes— and they locked on his face. Red watched as he tried to trace his features. He was light, warm, and comforting to hold, like a gift of a hereafter. Red smiled as he watched the little eyes look up at him, and for a moment, he thought he saw stars in the child’s eyes, he saw a world that he had wished he knew, he saw himself and a future that he didn’t realize he wanted. Then a log snapped in the fireplace, bringing Red out of the trance, the child blinked and it was lost to memory.

……..

The sky turned angry as swirls of rain and wind hit the window panes. The fire crackled near Red while the new baby dubbed ‘Phylo’ cooed in his mother’s arms as she rocked him to and fro. Millie’s sister, Margie, poured tea in the kitchen, the delicate sound of hot water whistling from the kettle mixed in with the pitter patter of raindrops against the window panes. It was a calm and happy evening.

“Why is he so…red?” Merric asked, sitting crisscrossed in front of Millie, clearly entranced by the newcomer whose hands were as tight as walnuts, his eyes trying so hard to focus on the blurred objects in front of him.

“Because he’s brand new.” Millie hummed. Albire came from around the corner and tousled Merric’s hair.

“His skin isn’t used to the fresh air just yet, but don’t you worry…he’ll be as pale and freckle faced as you. Say… shouldn’t you be going home soon? Your folks might get worried about you.”

“Albire, we can’t send the poor lad out in this weather. It’s raining something terrible out there.” Millie turned towards the kitchen. “Margie, do you mind getting the blankets out for Marcus? He’ll be staying over tonight.”

Red jumped up from his place on the window sill,” Aye, don’t worry about it, love, I’ll grab the squatter’s cot.” He said, bounding up the stairs to the linen closet. As he did, he noticed out of the corner of his eye a glare from the window, a purple haze that sifted through the mist. He turned for a second look.

But it was gone.

He shook his head, playing in the sun might have dazed him, making his mind play tricks. He opened the door and grabbed the bedding from the shelf. Walking to his unlit bedroom, he plopped the cot haphazardly onto the floor and watched as lightning lit up the night sky, booming thunder following a few seconds later.

“Love…that’s what you call me now?” A sweet, melodic voice whispered. Red turned around to see Margie leaning against the door, arms crossed. Red let a wry smile wipe across his face—watching the girl and seeing how her auburn curls cascaded down her shoulders, her emerald eyes piercing through the darkness.

“Well, that’s what you are…unless you want to go back to being ‘my brother’s wife’s sister that I stole a kiss from.” He replied, taunting the girl. She rolled her eyes and flicked a curl from her shoulder. She walked towards him. “Do you like the name, my pet?”

“Well you know I do. I just… wish you’d grow up a little bit.” She sighed wistfully, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his chest. He held her close, chin resting on the top of her head. They began to sway to the music of the raindrops hitting the shingles overhead. He tilted her face upwards with his finger.

“You know I have 50 more years until I do. We’re both still babies- like the one your sister holds in her arms.”

She took a small breath, a nod brushing against his chest. “I know, I know- but it’s almost time that you make an honest girl out of me. I can’t stay your little love forever, Red.”

“All in good time, Margie May. All in good time.” He whispered, quickly kissing her delicate forehead. She abruptly pushed him away. He cringed, waiting for a slap to the face but all she did was rush to the window and peer down to the front lawn. “What is it? Was it something I said?”

“No!” She huffed, gesturing towards the window. “There’s someone out there.”

He joined her at the window seat, kneeling on the velvet cushions. Margie had been right. There was someone there.

It wasn’t a Crosset.

It was a man- tall by their standards- a hand that clung to a gnarly staff, a green cloak that clung to the man’s muscular frame and a heavy hood that obscured his face.

He stood still as stone.

Margie turned white with terror, clinging to the sill, knuckles white. Red grabbed her by the shoulder, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t say a word, go downstairs and make sure that no one makes a sound. I’ll take care of this.” Margie was about to say something before he stopped her and pushed her out of the bedroom. He quickly grabbed a small carving knife from his bedside table, annoyed that he didn’t have any actual weapons.

“Albire and his pacifist personality is going to be the reason I die tonight.” He grumbled, unlocking the window and quietly raising it up. There was a young Oak sapling that was his climbing tree and in this moment gave him protection and the luxury of stealth. Red had no problem seeing exactly what was in his front lawn. Crossets had excellent vision and could see at night and for a long distance. The night was dark but Red could see every detail of the intruder, all the way down to the waterlogged boots that squelched down the now muddy path. Red followed down the edge of some shrubbery to get behind the man that stood looking up at the cottage.

The man looked like he was questioning whether or not he should approach any further. Red fingered the handle of the carving knife as he crouched in the leaves, wet tendrils of hair dangling in his eye lashes.

He was about to pounce-

When the man laughed.

A laugh that was rich and sweet like maple candies in winter time, smoky like tobacco smoke straight out of Albire’s pipe- warm and unexpected. It took Red by surprise and he stood there, bare foot, soaked through, and pride drowning in fear.

“If you were to attack me, my dear boy…” The man began, turning towards Red. He caught a glimpse of the man’s face from underneath the soggy hood, his eyes were a piercing blue, cheery and sparked with excitement. A smile slid into view from underneath a splotchy face of stubble, “ I’d hope that you would have the sense to sharpen that little carving knife first.”