Page 28 of A Bridge to a Troll's Heart
Arlo approached with Toby at his side. “Hello, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.” He took her hand and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles.
“My, aren’t you tall? You may as well call me Gran like the rest of them, since my Toby here is so taken with you.”
Arlo couldn’t believe her words. Call her Gran? As if she were his own grandmother? As if he were part of a real family? To his utter horror and embarrassment, Arlo’s eyes watered. Oh, goodness…could he really call this woman Gran? From deep within his heart, he desperately wanted to.
Arlo tried the unfamiliar word out. “You’ve such a lovely home, Gran. I’ve never seen another finer. Not that I’ve seen many homes, but this one is my favorite of all of them.”
“Thank you, dear. I’ve lived here nearly my whole life. Timothy and Surry’s family live here as well. She’ll be happy to see you when she’s done bossing the others around in the kitchen. And you? You live under a bridge, I hear. Hard to picture that. Pull up a chair and tell me about the charming home Toby is always talking about.”
A chair appeared from nowhere, and Arlo sat. Around them, the friendly chatter picked back up. Toby got his own seat and joined them as Arlo explained how to dig into a riverbank to construct a den. Gran listened patiently about how to reinforce walls, what worked to keep the damp at bay, and how he’d decorated with his collection of tributes.
“Well, I’ll be moonbug bit!” Gran’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “I had no idea such a thing was possible.” She looked at Toby. “Your grandfather would have loved this. I must insist on seeing it for myself. That is, if it’s all right with you, Arlo.”
“Of course, I’d love to have you, but…” The thing was, Gran looked rather frail, and Arlo had yet to see her moving around. He wondered if she’d be able to navigate swinging beneath the bridge to the entrance.
“Spit it out, young man.” An amused expression lit her face.
Who was Arlo to question her wishes? “Well, it’s only that climbing beneath the bridge is rather tricky. Could you do it?”
Gran let out a hearty laugh, but before Arlo could regret his words, she put him at ease. “Of course I can’t, you silly goat. I can hardly walk these days, but I don’t have fourteen grandchildren for nothing. If I want to go see your den under the bridge, then see it, I shall. As to how, that’s for them to figure out.”
Arlo joined her in laughing.
Toby looked mildly baffled. “Maybe a sling?”
“I’m sure the lot of you will think of something,” said Gran cheerfully.
Conversations went on around him. Toby’s family chuckled and entertained themselves as their feast cooked in the kitchen.
His chest warm with delight, Arlo leaned back in his seat and let his eyes roam his surroundings. A lifetime’s worth of treasures filled the room. A wooden spinning wheel in the corner, next to it, a basket with puffy clouds of wool to be carded, candles over the mantel along with paintings, one of which contained a landscape he recognized: his bridge over the Red Elk River. Out the window, a view of the forest sloping down to meet the creek that bisected the village. Wouldn’t it be nice to have tea in the mornings while gazing out that window?
Surry called out to them, stirring Arlo from his reverie. “Come and eat, everybody. Supper’s on the table.” She caught Arlo’s gaze. “Oh, hello, Arlo. So glad you made it.”
Arlo tipped his head, hoping no one would notice his purple cheeks. He hadn’t known it was possible to be filled with so much happiness. He wondered if there was room for food. But when he sat down at one of four tables that had been crammed into the dining room so they could all eat together, his stomach grumbled after all.
The feast spread before him made his eyes bulge and his mouth water. Whole turkeys, roasted to perfection, piles of mashed potatoes, baskets of rolls, dishes of cranberries and candied sweet potatoes with cream on the top. Enough to feed a village of wolf shifters and one troll who found himself suddenly very hungry.
The pack’s children were sent to a kids’ table in the adjoining kitchen. Their giggles and chatter echoed louder and louder until Timothy went in and shushed them. Arlo enjoyed the kids’ noises trickling into their conversation.
After everyone had eaten their fill and the adults were relaxed and chatting, Toby leaned into his side. “Timothy and I usually do the dishes. Want to give him the night off and help me?”
“I like the sound of that.” Timothy slouched comfortably in his chair, hands on his rounded tummy.
“Of course.” Arlo stood and helped Toby from his seat.
Regina piped up, “Hey, wait. When did we start roping our guests in to do the dirty work?”
“Arlo isn’t a guest. He’s family,” Gran said with an air of finality.
Her words warmed Arlo to the bone.
“And family”—Timothy grinned—“does the dishes!”
CHAPTER10
December
Toby
