Under a Tree
Suggested a long, long time ago (in a galaxy far away—no, wait, wrong fandom) by SouthwestExpat, the idea is hers, the world is Narnia's, and me? I'm just here to play.
Letitia Ketterly never had much time for the garden. Her sister, being so ill, required a good deal of tending; the housework still had to be done; her rather worthless brother got into scrapes it took a good deal of money, humility, and time to sort out; what little time she had left was reserved for her own sanity, and for her nephew Digory. Even then, she knew she did not spare the poor child enough time, uncomfortably aware that a place to live was often as much as she could offer him.
And then, of course, that maniac—that hussy—with bare arms (though admittedly very strong arms) entered the house, and caused all sorts of ruckus. Then suddenly Mabel seemed to be getting better—that very evening she had better colour and more strength, as if the circus hussy had brought something of vigorousness into the house. And also Andrew went and had a complete breakdown, and even got into the brandy, and the servants were in uproar.
So no—Letitia never had much time to go into the garden. But now that Digory had a friend—now that Mabel was on the mend—and somehow Andrew had been scared into behaving—
Well, the housework was done for the day, the mending managed, the servants calm, and Letitia decided some time in the garden was long overdue. She wandered, at first. Most of her days were filled with purposeful movements, and it was nice to walk without knowing where she intended to go.
But as she walked she caught a scent—a delicious scent, one that she knew, but could not place. Not in her garden, at any rate. But she followed it, curiosity waking, and as she went around the three trees, she saw it. There, where there had been no tree before, was a sapling. A sapling with beautiful apple flowers.
There had not been an apple tree there before.
Letitia looked carefully at it. It appeared to be healthy, to be growing well. The dirt around it seemed newly turned. The branches stirred briefly—though there was no wind that Letitia could feel—and a flower petal fell slowly off the branch and drifted through the air, landing in her palm, soft and small and pink.
Letitia looked at it, and looked back at the tree. She closed her palm over it and went back inside.
She had more hours, here and there, where she could go and do her own things. Many of them she used to delight her sister—getting flowers, opening windows, arranging for the piano to be tuned. But every afternoon, when she could, she walked to that back corner of the garden and looked at the apple tree. She could not have said why.
But it grew. Trees did, of course, Letitia had looked at trees all her life, but this one grew faster than Andrew's debts. And the scent, the fruit (for the sapling had fruit that first year, which was about seven years early), even the leaves themselves, held a beauty no other tree in the garden could touch.
One day, the first day Letitia plucked an apple, bit into it, and marvelled at the flavour, she sat down under its trunk and studied the apple. She turned it over and over in her hands, eyes on the glistening red, before she took another bite. Then she looked to the porch, where her sister sat-her sister sat outside-and then back at the apple.
"I truly think this has become a house of miracles," she murmured, mostly to herself. Then she glanced up at the tree branches. "I am very glad for one more."
A/N: This is also kindof for BellatrixTheStar, to brighten up her week. And to make up for the chapter I'm posting tomorrow of The Walker.
A/N2: I've discovered I only get notified for about half of the reviews that are posted. If you have reviewed something and I haven't thanked you, my apologies!