"My father didn't know that because he was hardly ever around but when he did put in an appearance, the aunt behaved differently."

~x~

Magnus Honey was an excellent doctor with a thriving medical practice, but for all his knowledge and all his skill, he didn't know how to heal a broken heart.

It was easier at work. There he could lose himself wholly in the task of saving lives. As a general practitioner who split his time between the hospital and the clinic his schedule was a busy one. He didn't know what he would have done if Agatha hadn't agreed to look over Jenny. His late wife's family all still resided in England, and his parents were long-dead. Agatha and Jenny were the only real family Magnus had left, and he needed both of them if he was to live on.

Not that Agatha was sentimental enough for him to say so out loud, or even easy to live with on some days. Neither Agatha nor her step-sister spoke much of their childhood, but Magnus got the impression life had not been kind to the former-Olympian. He could respect her need for routine and regimen, how she used self-control and discipline in every facet of her life in order to compete at the highest level. There were many children came from unstable family dynamics who grew up to become delinquents or worse. Agatha was almost the exact opposite—an example of defiance against what the statistics said she should have become.

But that did not make her softhearted, and that did not make her kind. Magnus remembered Agatha had interacted with Jenny for the first time shortly after she was born. It was like she didn't know what to do with a baby, and it had been the one and only time Magnus had seen Agatha appear uncomfortable. The first days after his wife's death had been…hard. Jenny, as many children did when faced with sudden change, regressed, becoming more needy and emotional than she was wont. Agatha, in her own grief, had been irritable. Snappish. While on bereavement leave Magnus acted as a buffer between the two, while subtly demonstrating the care Jenny needed.

By the time he returned to his practice a new equilibrium had been established, and while the arrangement wasn't perfect it worked, and Magnus came to believe that all was well in the Honey household. At least as well as they could be after the loss of his beloved wife and mother of his child.

Jenny emerged from the ordeal quieter than she had been. She had always been reserved, but a year after her mother's death she was timid. On his days off Magnus did what he could to bring her out of her shell—taking her to zoos, parks, and museums in an attempt to open her up to the wonders that the world held. But over time it felt like for every step forward he slid two steps backward, and by the time Jenny turned three, Magnus wondered if he hadn't lost his daughter along with his wife.

There was only one way Magnus knew how to reach Jenny when she would withdraw into herself, and that was how he found himself late one Friday night after a long and frustrating day at the clinic reaching for the lone storybook that occupied his personal bookshelf.

From the corner of his eye, Magnus saw Jenny's expression brighten. Exactly how the children's book came to occupy the same space of his medical texts and other favored works of literature was lost to the annals of time, but he suspected his late wife had started placing it there as a joke and it stuck.

"I wonder what I should read tonight?" he mused aloud, making a great show of it as he browsed through his collection. "To Kill a Mockingbird?"

Jenny didn't respond like Magnus half-hoped she would, but even from across the room he could see her quiver with excitement.

"No, that's much too serious for bed-time reading. The Pickwick Papers, perhaps?"

Jenny clasped her hands over her mouth to keep from shouting out.

"An excellent work, but no, I was thinking…" Magnus plucked the storybook off the shelf, holding it in such a way that the large bumblebee on the cover was clearly visible. "Ah, yes. The Busy, Busy Bee. A household favorite, if I remember correctly."

Jenny jumped to her feet and ran to him as fast as her little legs would carry her. Magnus scooped her up one-handed and gave her a peck on the cheek before settling to the couch. Snorting disapprovingly, Agatha retired to her bedroom without so much of a goodnight.

Suppressing a sigh, Magnus balanced Jenny on his knee. He knew he'd have to talk to Agatha someday, but he simply didn't have the energy to deal with her tonight. Not after all she'd done without ever asking anything in return.

"Is Aunt Trunchbull mad, Daddy?" Jenny asked. If Magnus didn't know better, he'd think she sounded afraid.

"Of course not, Bumblebee. Your aunt just…your aunt is a very sad woman."

"Sad?" Jenny echoed, tilting her head back to look at him, confusion crinkling on her brow.

"Your aunt hasn't know much kindness, Bumblebee. It's why she sometimes acts…sharp," Magnus said finally, not quite sure that was the best way to describe Agatha's particularities but unable to think of anything better. "And it's why we must show her love, even if it doesn't always seem like she appreciates it."

The crease between her eyebrows deepened, and Magnus felt compelled to continue, "Actions speak louder than words. Your aunt doesn't always know how to show she cares, but she's come to live with us and helped take care of you for over a year now."

"I'm a big girl," Jenny said matter-of-factly. "I'm three."

Magnus's lips curved into a small smile. "Yes you are."

"I don't need anyone to take care of me," Jenny said. "Aunt Trunchbull doesn't have to live here anymore."

"Jennifer Marie Honey," Magnus said sharply, "I never want you to say that ever again. Do you understand? This is your aunt's home just as much as it is yours."

Jenny flinched, ducking her head so that he could not see her face. Immediately Magnus regretted his tone, and setting the book aside, he wrapped his daughter in a tight hug. At first she stiffened, but after a moment melted into the embrace.

"S-sorry?" she said, clinging to Magnus as if he were a life preserver. "Please don't be mad."

"I'm not angry, Bumblebee," Magnus said softly, running his fingers through her blonde hair. "But your Aunt Trunchbull is family, and if you don't have family, what else is there?"

Magnus cradled his daughter for a long time after that, wishing again that his wife were still here. She would know what to say to soothe Jennifer's troubled heart. If only he could understand the cause for her introverted behavior, then maybe he could help her. As it was, Magnus was at a loss.

"Do you want a chocolate?" Magnus whispered in Jenny's ear. She nodded, still not daring to look him in the eye. He reached around for his chocolate box, as always giving her the bigger half before reading his daughter the story of a bumblebee who set out to make a pot of honey.

And while he read, Agatha Trunchbull slunk away from where she'd been eavesdropping, her size belying her guile. Her secret was safe for another day, and when the miserable old fool went back to work Agatha would make sure little Jenny was punished for nearly ruining the plans that were already beginning to stir in the depths of her wicked, wicked heart.