Rosie looked up at the sky, rubbing her itchy nose with the back of her gloved hand and smiled. It was going to rain soon. She finished off pushing the soil around the last pair of Moongrove trees and stood up. She slipped one glove off and then the other and she surveyed her garden. She stood on the edge of the Spring season knowing it was the perfect time to tend to this section. The first rains of the season welcomed her work. She gathered her now empty bag of what was mulch and collected a few of her tools. The blue skies were deceiving, but she trusted her nose. There wasn’t a storm in In-Rel that would surprise her. She could already feel the garden around her sigh as it prepared for what the sky was about to give them.

“Perfect timing,” a voice called out to her from the well that rested in the center of her quartered garden, one for each season. “I was just about to come out and tell you I’ve finished it.”

Rosie crossed the garden quickly with her long strides and looked down at the bald dwarf at least half her size, “And I have just finished planting your Moongrove trees.”

Patrick gave her a knowing look and took one of her hands, “As I said, perfect timing.”

Rosie looked back beyond the garden towards the small saplings, “I know. They’ll be the perfect size for when-“

Patrick cleared his throat, “Henry is growing impatient with us. You know tonight marks the change in the cycles.”

Rosie laughed, “He gets that from you, you know. The impatience. Yes, tonight is important. The Season of Giving.”

“I am patient when I need to be, thank you,” Patrick grumbled and pulled at her hand to come down to her. Though most people were taller than Patrick, Rosie’s presence had always seemed more. And it wasn’t because she was just a powerful force, his heart just felt like it would burst when he was around her, “Come down here.”

Rosie laughed and Patrick blushed from it. Her laugh was infectious, almost alluring. He always argued it did charm those around her, but she absolutely denied it. “And what makes you think I want to kiss a sweaty dwarf whose spent the whole day in a room built like a cage?”

Patrick put a hand to his heart, “Rosie, you wound me! First of all, the Feygods know you always want to kiss me. Second of all, you know I hate it when you call that room a cage. It’s an important room for when we get a guest. And third of all, get down here…”

Rosie knelt and looked her husband in the eyes. He took his hand and, without breaking eye contact, said, “You’ve got that lovely soil of yours on your nose,” and tenderly took the tip of his fingers and brushed them against her ebony skin, “There. Now we can kiss.”

Rosie leaned her head back with a loud guffaw before looking back at him, “And what about you? Saw dust everywhere? For what? An ornate cot in a room without a window?”

Patrick jerked his hand away and went to turn, “You know what, Rosie, I didn’t want to kiss you anyway.”

“Get over here,” Rosie growled and wrapped an arm around him and easily spun him around. Her lips pressed deeply against his and she could feel him melt in her arms before she let him go, stood up and headed towards the backdoor of the house. A small boy was standing there watching with a big grin. Rosie avoided his staring gaze and made her way through the door.

“You were kissing,” Henry giggled, “I saw you.”

Rosie just walked passed him.

Henry frowned slightly and then looked out at his father who was still leaning against the well as if he were trying to catch his breath.

“Spying on people is rude,” came a growl from behind him as thick arms swept him up into the air and a mouth pretended to eat his belly up.

Henry squealed with laughter, something Patrick always said he had gotten from his mother. “Two alluring Edwards,” he’d say, “a dangerous combination. Henry, that laugh is going to melt all the boys’ hearts.”

Rosie put Henry down in the kitchen just within the backdoor and the stairs leading down to the cellar, “Now go grab us some Jamberry Wine from the cellar.”

“Do I get some?”

“Not this rotation.”

“You say this every rotation.”

“Well, there will come a time I won’t. So keep asking.”

Henry grinned and ran down the cellar stairs just as Patrick came inside, “Henry, bring up some Jamberry Wine while you’re down there.”

“On it!” Henry called up.

Rosie checked the stew boiling in the pot before holding out the ladle for Patrick to try. Patrick swatted Rosie’s butt and sipped it, “Bear?”

Rosie nodded.

“From Blackwood?” he asked after another sip and she nodded again, “I’m also tasting sugar cane and please tell me that’s not treenut!”

Rosie nodded again.

“So I can honestly say it’s a sac of a meal then,” Patrick laughed as Rosie swung the ladle at him, “No but honestly, so proud of my huntress. Blackwood gets scarier and scarier. As you said, there will be a time you won’t be able to cope with what comes out of there.”

Rosie scoffed at his huntress comment and put the lid back on the cooking pot, “I’m not a huntress. I just do what needs to be done. And Blackwood doesn’t scare me.”

Patrick eyed the the cellar stairs and whispered, “I guess you’d prefer to be my woman in the woods, you sexy beast.”

“Patrick!” Rosie gasped and shooed him out the kitchen door just as Henry returned.

Patrick called out to Henry, “Bring the wine in the Great Hall, my boy! It’s time to prepare the Giving Feast!”

Henry gasped and walked a bit quicker, hugging a large jug to his chest, “And presents?”

Rosie followed Henry and stopped at the doorway from the kitchen, “The Great Hall? Really? That table can only fit at the most four. I wouldn’t call this a Great anything.”

“Ouch,” Patrick pretended to be wounded again, “I built this house with my own two hands. The frames alone took me at least 6 cycles.”

“Yeah, it did take you awhile,” Rosie grinned, “Perhaps we should have gotten a professional carpenter.”

Patrick’s eyes widened and then he pointed a finger at her and wagged it, “Good one, Rosie. Good one.”

Henry struggled to put the wine on the table before Rosie took a few strides and grabbed it from him, “Here, I’ll help you, Henry.”

Henry looked up at his mother and smiled as she put the jug in the middle of the table and played with his hair afterwards.

“You two are two peas in a pod, you know that?” Patrick smiled. His eyes was full of love, “I can’t wait anymore. I got something to show you.”

Rosie raised an eyebrow, “If this is our gift, you’ll wait till after the meal, thank you. Food. Wine. Giving. It’s how it goes.”

Henry danced one foot at a time, “Oh mom, please. Please! He’s been teasing all cycle! Whittling away out on his log and won’t let me watch!”

“Technically I’m not finished yet with the set of four,” Patrick sighed, “But it’s the third chapter and I know you both have been waiting.”

Rosie didn’t protest as she eagerly looked at Patrick, who picked up a bag next to the fireplace. She already knew what he’d pull out and so did Henry, who stood in front of her and wrapped her arms around himself. She kissed the top of his head.

“So,” Patrick said, grinning over at the two, “we already have two dashing figurines of us on the mantle place.”

Rosie and Henry looked up at the mantle place. Two wooden carvings of Rosie and Patrick stood there followed by another pair of them, one holding a hammer and one holding a saw.

“I still remember the day I finished the next two. Building this house together was the second greatest moment of my life,” Patrick mused, tears welling in his eyes.

Rosie smiled softly and looked down at her gentle husband.

“What was the first?” Henry asked.

“Why,” Patrick said, pulling out another carved figuring, “having you of course.”

Rosie and Henry gasped.

“Happy Season of Giving, my family,” Patrick grinned and held up a carving of Rosie holding a baby Henry as Patrick hugged her from the side looking up at both of them with the same look he was giving them now.

Henry ran out of Rosie’s arms and up to Patrick, “It’s your best one yet.”

Rosie laughed, “You’re just saying that because you’re in it.”

“He’s not wrong,” Patrick grinned as Henry reached for it, “Careful Henry, this one is heavier than the rest.”

“I love it,” Henry grinned and tried to hold onto it, but he struggled and Rosie stepped forward and plucked it out of his hand.

“May I?” Rosie asked Henry and Patrick and they both nodded. She placed it up on the mantle place, “We would never want anything to happen to these figurines. They’re gorgeous.”

Arm in arm all three stood there and admired the mantle place before Rosie said, “Well, I think since your father already started the Giving part, I might as well go up at get what I have for you two.”

Patrick pulled away from Henry, looked at him and then up at Rosie, “Yes. We’d like to know where you’ve hidden them. We’ve looked everywhere!”

Henry looked at his father with wide eyes and then back at his mother, “I didn’t try to look. Honest.”

Rosie crossed her arms and smiled, “You don’t think I don’t know you two look every rotation? No. I hide them well every time.” She reached under the table and with a small click, she pulled out two small boxes.

Patrick gasped, “Under the table this whole time?”

Henry put a hand on his forehead, “We didn’t look there!”

Rosie raised an eyebrow at Henry.

“I mean, he didn’t…” Henry put a hand behind his head and blushed.

Rosie rolled her eyes and held out the two boxes. One box was purple and the other was green. Henry took the purple one and immediately started to open it. Patrick held onto the green one for the moment he watched Henry open his.

Henry looked inside his box and gasped before tossing the lid aside and reaching in and pulling out his gift.

“I had it made for you. Had to go to the village to get that done.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, “When did you go back there?”

Rosie pretended to be offended, “I don’t have to tell you how long my hunting trips really take.”

Henry held up a whittling knife and Patrick rushed to his side and snapped it out of Henry’s hands, “And you think he’s old enough to use this?!”

“Dad, that’s mine!” Henry pouted and tried to reach for it.

Patrick took a moment to admire the knife and eyed his wife, “This is better than my own. But if he isn’t old enough for Jamberry Wine, he’s not old enough for this.”

Rosie furrowed her brow but said nothing for a moment before giving up, “Well, since you’ll be teaching him how to use it I guess it’s up to you when he gets it. But at least let him admire it for awhile.”

Henry nodded in agreement and reached for his knife again, which Patrick reluctantly gave to him. Henry grinned and moved away from his parents towards the front door and began to swing it around. Patrick gasped and looked at his wife before rushing over to Henry.

“Now see,” Patrick scolded Henry, “this is why you aren’t ready. It isn’t a weapon. It’s used to carve beautiful things.”

Rosie crossed her arms as a tone crept into voice, “Don’t be so sure, Patrick.”

Patrick froze and left Henry to his little game and returned holding up his green box, “This better be an even better whittling knife.”

Rosie chuckled and watched Henry quietly before looking down at her husband as he lifted up the lid of his gift and gasped.

“You know what that is?” Rosie asked as Patrick lifted up the purple vial and nodded.

“You really did go back to the village. And they let you take this?”

“I gave them an offer they couldn’t refuse,” Rosie chuckled with a deep grumble.

Patrick looked up at Rosie with tears in his eyes, “So, this is really happening. Our home-” he stopped and held up the vial to the light, “Valores’ Lavender Tea. Nothing like it in all the realms.”

Rosie purred, “And I got it just for you. Use it wisely.”

Patrick smiled, “Or I could just not use it at all. Keep it safe.”

Henry shouted out as he accidentally dropped the knife and it stabbed into the floor just near his foot, “Da-a-ad, I think mom is right. I’m not ready.”

Patrick rushed over, scolding him, the green box discarded. Rosie picked up the boxes and threw them into the fireplace and ignited it. She watched as her husband and son argued. Patrick was so protective of him, but Rosie just grinned, the light of the fire reflecting in her eyes.

“They’re coming to get the lonely three,” Rosie whispered before Henry exclaimed, “I’m hungry!”

Patrick put the whittling knife away and pocketed the vial before swatting at Henry, “Help us set the table then, you rascal. You’re just as cheeky as a Mhuka, I swear to all the Feygods.”

Henry hugged Patrick first and then Rosie, “Happy Season of Giving!”

Rosie held Patrick just as the rains started to pour from the sky. They walked together arm and arm and stood staring out the front window at the Lakewood Trees that surrounded their home.

“Happy Season of Giving,” Rosie sighed, kissing the top of her husband’s head.

“Happy Season of Giving,” Patrick whispered, a sadness to his voice as he patted the pocket that held the vial.

To Joel. Happy Season of Giving. You give me the greatest gift of them all, your love.

And to my readers, may your holidays be filled with love, whether it’s self love, love from another or just the love I have for you. May your season be a peaceful one.

Loved what you read? Want to know more about these characters? Silver is available now. See what happens to Patrick, Rosie and Henry in my LGBT+ Fantasy novel! Don’t forget to visit my shop!

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