Inspired by a great piece of fanart gifted to me on Tumblr.
-1977-
MacGyver hunkers down, intently studying the tracks left in the mud. The sky's clear today but it has been raining a lot lately and they're fairly fresh.
Smiling, he looks over at the little girl in green sweater and blue jeans, the ends of her braids escaping from under the purple knit cap, taking after her mom with auburn hair and blue eyes. She's amusing herself by picking up fallen leaves and raising them to examine their bright colors in the sunlight, golden and crimson and burnt orange.
"Hey Becky, c'mere." Obediently she toddles over. "What kind of animals do you think made these tracks?"
"I dunno, Unc."
"Take a closer look. Every animal has a distinct footprint so you can easily tell them apart. Badgers have a wide footprint with five toes in a curve and claw marks. Fox feet are similar to small dogs, but more long and narrow with two prominent toes at the front and clear claw marks. Deer have a cloven hoof made of two elongated tear shapes. And rabbits have five toes and an elongated pad. Now going by that what do you think made these?"
Becky leans over to study, small features scrunched in concentration. "Um, deer and...rabbit?"
"That's right. You catch on quick." He stands up, wiping his hands on his jeans. "So, you wanna walk some more or go back to the coffee shop?"
"Walk some more. There's nothing to do since Mom and Dad are with Chris at the hospital. I already read a lot and TV is boring. Grandma Ellen's busy baking for tomorrow. I asked her if I could help but she said the kitchen's no place for a little girl."
"Mmm. Good thing you're free to look after me, then." Chris had come down with a high fever in the night so Allison and Michael drove him to the nearest hospital over in Sandstone, leaving her here with him and Mom. Jack's still undergoing advanced pilot training and couldn't get leave, though he'll probably be eligible next month in time for the holidays. Fortunate for Becky that Mac had decided to spend Thanksgiving in Mission City, instead of formal dinner with his mentor back at Western Tech or doing a spate of globetrotting.
He doesn't begrudge spending time with her, not at all. She may not make friends easily but in compensation she has a rich inner life and vivid imagination. She inspires him with her endless curiosity, sensitivity to the hidden wonder and importance of everything around her, her preternatural mindfulness and concern for others. To her the world is magical, wondrous and uplifting.
He fervently hopes she won't have to surrender her innocence too soon.
There's a rustle in the oak tree ahead of them. "Becky, look up there. See the squirrel stuffing that acorn into his mouth?"
"He's gathering them for the winter, isn't he? What do they taste like?"
"Kinda bitter, but pretty flavorful and nutritious. You can grind them up and make acorn meal, though they have to be shelled and soaked in boiling water to leech out the tannins first."
She makes a face. "I don't like nuts that are bitter. The squirrels can have 'em."
Mac chuckles and takes her hand. "Let's get going. At least it's not raining today."
Autumn has always been one of his favorite times of the year, when nature's preparing for the rapid arrival of another grim Minnesota winter. The woods- mostly white pine, paper birch, red maple and oak in this part of the state- are lively with sound, glowing with color and rich with the smell of damp soil and decomposing organic matter. Perfect for a leaf-crunching, nature-spotting ramble in the golden light of afternoon with his young niece.
They follow a familiar path he's taken with Harry many times as a kid in comfortable silence. Becky's eyes are wide behind her glasses as she drinks everything in. He wouldn't be surprised if she imagined a fairies' tea party under one of the fly agarics near the birch trees with their distinctive red caps and white raised dots, though since they're highly toxic he'll never let her eat one. Maybe this weekend he'll go foraging for edible mushrooms to supplement Thanksgiving leftovers.
"Uncle Mac?" she asks after a while.
"Yeah?"
"Did Chris get sick because of me? I'm really sorry for yelling at him last night. I didn't mean to get mad when he took the last cookie, honest."
"It's not your fault, Becky. Don't worry, he's gonna be fine. The doctors and nurses at the hospital are looking after him. Your folks, too. I bet he'll be back tomorrow to watch the Thanksgiving parade with you on TV. Just see if he doesn't."
"Good. He's bossy and silly sometimes but he's okay for a big brother."
He chuckles. "Your mom used to be just as bossy and silly at his age, ya know."
"It's weird thinking of you and Mom and Uncle Jack as kids, like me and Chris."
"Growing up is weird," he agrees. "Happens to all of us, though."
"Even me?"
"Even you, kiddo. You'll be a big girl before you know it."
Presently they come across part of the trail skirting the old Eriksen farm. Mac slows upon spying the remaining section of an old stone boundary wall that used to be a favorite place of his to stop and rest. "Time for a break," he says, lifting Becky and placing her on top.
She frowns down at the ground, her short legs hanging over the edge. "I hate heights."
Like uncle, like niece. "You'll be fine, I promise I won't let you fall. You can be brave for me, right?"
She swallows and nods. "I'll try, Unc. I'll try real hard."
"That's my girl. Hey, let me show you something cool. Did your mom ever tell you why we call Minnesota the Land of 10,000 Lakes?"
She shakes her head. "I don't think so."
"Well, a very, very long time ago this part of the country was covered by large and slow moving rivers of ice called glaciers. They were so powerful they could scoop up rocks and soil and carry them over long distances. Farmers come across 'em sometimes when they prepare ground for planting, and use them to build walls like this one. Look over here," indicating a particular section of the wall that once sparked an interest in geology- granite, sandstone, and other types of stone in shades of gray, green, orange, brown and red. "All of these came from very far away. The glaciers also carved out depressions in the earth which filled up with water over time. That's why Minnesota has so many lakes."
"Wow," she says, impressed. "How come you know so much about nature and science an' stuff?"
"Some of it I learned in school, the rest from my grandpa when I was a kid. Your great-grandpa, by the way." He can't tell her Harry taught him most of it during their hunting trips. He just can't. No way he'll ever teach her or Chris to use a gun.
She sports a more thoughtful look now. "Mom doesn't say much about him other than he lives in Alaska. He never visits us in Oregon, either."
"He does like to live by himself. He went up there looking for work when your mom, Jack and I were kids and decided to stay. Guess he prefers his own company."
She nods. "A hermit. I saw that word in a book, and looked it up in the dictionary. Mom taught me to do that whenever I find a word I don't know."
"Building up vocabulary is important. You're a regular bookworm, aren't ya?" She has a real talent for words, and more advanced language skills than most toddlers her age. Even taught herself to read before she could walk, according to Allison.
"Uh-huh. Reading's one of my favorite things in the whole world, along with going to the beach."
"Me, too. Ever seen a mermaid with a book?"
Becky giggles behind a hand. "They can't read, silly! Books would get soggy underwater."
"Oh, right. Well, maybe we'll just have to invent waterproof paper and teach 'em," he quips, which tickles her all the more. He loves hearing her laugh, tinkling and clear, a sweet sound that lightens his heart like nothing else.
A breeze stirs the leaves, carrying with it a hint of chill weather to come. Becky shivers, rubbing her arms. He feels a little guilty for insisting she didn't need to put on her coat. He forgot how sensitive she is to changes in temperature.
"Here, let's get you warmed up," taking off his brown leather jacket and draping it over her.
She sticks her shorter arms into the sleeves, flapping them up and down. "Look, I've got wings!"
"Very funny." He helps her push them a long way up so her hands stick out the other side. The jacket reaches almost down to her sneakers.
She looks up at him, a small frown creasing between her brows. "But won't you get cold, Unc?"
"I'll be fine, don't worry about me. Just wanna make sure you're warm enough."
"I am." She holds the collar, sniffing at the leather. "I like your jacket. I like the way it smells."
"So do I. That's why it's my favorite."
Canada geese honk at each other high above their heads in a v-shaped formation, flying south. Another sign of impending winter.
Becky tilts her head back to watch them. "How come they know how to do that?"
He leans forward against the wall and props his head on one hand, following her gaze upwards. "Instinct, I guess. While some behavior is learned from their parents they're also born knowing how to do a lot by themselves."
"I hope when I grow up I'll be as smart as you."
"You're pretty smart already. But if you study hard in school and read as much as you can I guarantee you'll be even smarter."
"You really think so?"
"Sure. You can do whatever you put your mind to, Becky. Don't let anyone tell you different." He checks his watch. "Whoops, time to get back home. Your grandma's probably wondering where we are." He carefully lifts her off the wall and down to the ground.
Hand in hand they retrace their path in the waning afternoon, surrounded by brilliant colors, laughing as they kick their way through the fallen leaves. He's wearing a flannel shirt but the wind chills him to the bone nonetheless. A small price to pay for the amusing sight of his jacket almost overwhelming Becky, one long sleeve trailing on the ground behind her.
In the apartment above the coffee shop Mom has a snack ready for them on the kitchen table, two mugs of her special dark hot chocolate and a plate of cookies fresh out of the oven, the same cold-weather treat he used to enjoy as a kid. Soon Mike calls from the hospital, saying Chris is doing a whole lot better and he'll be discharged tomorrow in time to watch the Thanksgiving Day parades on TV.
Afterwards Mac cuddles with Becky on the old comfy couch, wrapped in a quilt. The windows almost pitch black outside at this hour, the corners of the living room furry with gathering darkness yet cozy with soft hissing heat from the radiators and the subdued chatter of an old black-and-white Western on TV. A delicious weariness sneaks into him, the culmination of exercise in brisk weather, the good smells of Mom cooking dinner in the kitchen, and the understated serenity of a little girl snuggling against his chest.
"Uncle Mac?" she murmurs, already drowsy.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for walking with me. It was fun."
"You're welcome, princess," kissing the top of her hair, braids still a little flattened from their earlier confinement.
It suddenly occurs to Mac that this is the way things ought to be, full of special moments that give meaning to everything else, pearls of peace and contentment strung together to be savored. Today for the first time in a long while he's allowed himself to see splendor instead of ugliness, reminding him there's more to life than the fear and prejudice and pain he's seen on his travels. A lot more.
Winter is coming, then spring and summer and autumn again as life cycles on, year following year. In time his niece and nephew will grow up and live their own lives, accompanying their children on walks through the woods the day before Thanksgiving. He's determined to make the world a better place for them however he can.
Or at least give it his best shot, and that's the most anyone can do, right?
A fond smile touches his lips as Becky relaxes against him, safe and comfortable in his arms. Soon he joins her in sweet slumber, surrounded by gentleness, warmth and love.
There are always things worth fighting for. Such as family.