Mary Lupin watches the two young children from inside the sitting room of the house. She can hear them howling with laughter and chittering away with glee. She shakes her head when she hears her son yell about the Roman Empire to the girl not much older than himself, and she buries her head in her book again. Remus got his bookworm from his mother and his looks from his father. John Lupin is a tall, lanky man, with bright eyes and a crooked smile. He has a lust for life and a lust for hard work where Remus has a lust for knowledge. Even with as small and young as he is, he knows so much. Mary sighs, for little Remus isn't so little anymore. But as she hears the squeals of joy from outside the window, she thinks that maybe he can stay little for a little longer.
"My birt'day is comin' up," says the little girl in a pink and yellow smock. She picks up a rock and throws it hard against the trunk of the tree. Remus is sitting in the paddle swing. "I think we should have a party."
"What kinda party?"
"You've never been to a birt'day party?" she asks, disbelief swallowing her face. Remus is a weird boy, with his nonstop talking and his manic laugh, but he's friendly and he smells like dust and cedar wood. She cannot find it in herself to believe that any little boy (and he is little, younger than herself) can go his whole life without going to a birthday party, no matter how weird he is.
He shrugs. "There idn't any other kids 'round here. Jus' me."
"Well, now you got me!" Sadie says with an open-mouthed smile, grabbing the boy's hand. "An' since it's my birt'day, we're gonna do what I wanna do today."
Remus throws his head back and nearly growls as she pulls him to the fence gate. The gate works, as rusty as it is, but they always crawl underneath, as a bit of rebellious tradition. They walk across the crunching grass to a small garden in sight of Gram's (Mrs. Bartley to Remus) house. Sadie has either been planning or playing on her own; the former more believable than the latter, for she is up early and with Remus until the sun sets. It's a white, metal tea table with matching chairs. The tea set is already out.
"Aw, Sadie, d'we really gotta play tea-time? I hate tea."
"Yessir, we do," she says, pushing down on his shoulders until he's seated. "And how cn'ya hate tea? I've scones, too, Remus."
She sits across from him and he smiles. He likes the way she says his name, with inflection and an accent he's never quite heard before. Oh, he's heard Mummy's accent, which Pop calls her Guernsey mouth, and he's heard his Pop's accent, much like his own, but he's never heard the way this girl talks. It's almost enthralling, the way the words can roll of her tongue in almost another language entirely. She catches his gaze.
"Why're you smilin'?"
"No reason. Where're the scones?"
She huffs and pulls a plate closer to him. "Boys. Boys an' their scones."
He shrugs as he grabs a scone and stuffs it into his mouth. "Ah jawst-"
"Don't talk with your mouth full."
He swallows and scowls at her. "You're a reg'lar ol' muther hen, you know 'at?"
She brings the teacup to her lips and smirks, but says nothing. At regular persisting, Remus brings his own teacup up and takes a swig. He makes a face and sets it back down. "Eghck. Thas' disgustin'."
"Well, silly, you didn't put any sugar'r cream in it."
"You're 'sposed to?"
She lets out a mighty exhale and takes the tops from two small bowls. "I'mma give you two lumpsa, and one dash. That's how m'Gram takes hers, and how I take mine."
She stirs the tea with a small, silver spoon and offers it back to him. "Go 'head. Try it."
He cautiously sips the tea, closing his eyes. He opens his eyes in shock. "Hey, 's not bad!"
"Toldja."
After their tea party, they play House with Sadie's baby dolls. Someone, perhaps her Gramp, has built a small shed that doubles as the playhouse. He's sitting on a wooden crate, holding a plastic baby as she pretends to cook over an old cardboard box. "It's almost ready!"
Remus doesn't much like playing house, but it is Sadie's birthday. He knows on his birthday, he gets to wear whatever he wants and pick what they have for supper, including a small pastry just for him, a special treat once a year. So he supposes he can play this game with her for today, as long as they can go back to hunting for bugs and playing cops and crims tomorrow. She hisses as she turns off the cardboard stove and brings a plate of leaves to him. "Ta-da!"
"What is it?"
"'S meatloaf."
"Looks like leaves to me."
"Use your 'magination. Pretend it's meatloaf."
As she bends down to retrieve the doll from his lap, Remus leans over and kisses her cheek. She shoots up, baby in one hand, the other hand pressed to her cheek.
"I—I'm sorry! I jus'...I jus'-," he stammers, holding his lips. "'S'what mummies and pops do, right? They kiss each other? Y'said to pretend!"
She shakes her head slowly, hand still on her crimson cheeks. "'S'alright. You just...y'scared me, that's all."
"I'm real sorry, Sadie!"
"Don't 'pologize. You're right. 'Swhat mummies and daddies do," She moves the baby to a small pallet they've made on the dirt floor, patting her plastic head. "Jus' don't let it happen 'gain, alright?"
He nods gravely, casting his eyes downward. Suddenly, hands are grabbing his shoulders. "Remus! Remus, we hafta go!"
He lifts his eyes and looks out the door of the shed. The sun is beginning to set. She's grabbing his hands and dragging him out of the playhouse, towards the fence. "This is m'favorite part-a the day! We musn't miss it!"
She is barreling over the gate and dashing across the pasture and Remus is struggling to keep up with her. Moments that feel like years later against the ticking set of the sun, she is in the paddle seat, a comfortable smile settling on her face. He does his usual of stepping behind her and gently pushing her as she watches the sun.
"Happy Birt'day."
"Thank you."
They stay in silence for a little longer, the moan of the old world around them resting her bones growing louder. Just as the sun is level with the far-off grass, she jumps off the swing and steps to him. "You never got me a birt'day present."
She is close to him, very close, and he can feel the strands of her hair blowing onto him. "I didn' know what to get you. Plus, I jus' found out 's your birthday."
"Remus, will you marry me?"
He looks at her, his hazel eyes wide. He can count the freckles on her nose and tries to in their silence, but quickly loses count.
"Remus?"
"Yeah?"
"Remus, will you marry me?"
He catches her eyes, big, blue ocean eyes. "Sure."
She leans forward and kisses him on the lips. He stands frozen, his hands at his sides. It's a simple kiss; closed lips and scrunched, pushing too hard, a small smacking sound, and then it's over. She pulls back and looks at him. "I guess we're married now."
"Guess so."
She kicks at a rock by her feet and fiddles with her hands. "I'm leavin' t'morrow mornin'."
"What? Why?"
"'M only here for the summer. Daddy is picking me up t'morrow in his big automo, and we're going back home."
Remus feels his shoulders sink. He has just gotten used to having a playmate, he has just married her, and now she's leaving? There were more and more things he wasn't understanding every day, and they made his head hurt with how heavy they felt. "Will you be back? Next holiday?"
She grins broadly. "But f'course! And we shall be proper married nex' summer, believe you me!"
He smiles back at her and hears his mother call for supper. Mrs. Bartley's call is not long after Mrs. Lupin's. "Guess we'd better scoot, eh?"
"Guess so."
They walk slowly, holding hands as the sky begins to grow dark. They arrive at the fence and she kisses him again, giggling madly. "I'll see y'round, Remus."
"Next holiday, Sadie."
He stands with his hands on the gate, the old paint crusting to his hands as she runs back to her grandmother's cottage. She has a hold of the door handle and she turns around and gives him a giant wave. He returns it, smiling, then walks back to his own house.
-xxxxx-
"Well, did you have fun today, Remy?"
He pushes the peas around his plate, scowling. He hates peas. "Guess so. Sadie's goin' back home t'morrow, though."
"Oh, that's a shame," says John, scooting his son's chair closer to the table. The closer he is, the more he'll eat, John knows. "She was a lovely girl. A bit sassy, but lovely, all the same."
Remus says nothing, his eyes glued to his plate. Mary nudges her husband and they pause to look at their bewildering, heartbroken five-year-old. "Remy, darling, what ever is the matter?"
"I jus' miss her, s'all."
Mary and John exchange knowing looks, smiles creeping to their lips, and they continue eating to mask the grins. "She'll be back next holiday, Remus. Mrs. Bartley told me 'erself."
"I know." Remus finally scoops a spoonful of peas into his mouth and slowly chews. He waits until his mouth is clear to speak again. "We got married t'day."
"You did?" says Mary, unable to stop the spread of joy on her face. "That's lovely, darling."
"Yeah," he says, moving onto the potatoes. "'Cept she won't be back 'til later, and what if she doesn't love me any more?"
Mary pats his hand soothingly. "That's love f'you, Remus. Fleeting."
He tilts his head and squints his eyes at his mother. She just keeps getting curiouser and curiouser, he thinks to himself. "May I be 'scused?"
"Finish those potatoes, young man. Nobody wants a husband who doesn't eat their vegetables."
He grimaces as he spoons another bite, but he finishes them all.