April

The weather was unseasonably pleasant, so the Juice family went for a picnic in the Neitherwoods. Mama had packed a basket with everybody's favorite picnic food, Papa had taken along two baseball gloves and a ball, and Beatie had carefully wrapped up her favorite werewolf doll so he wouldn't be cold and taken him to see the woods.

Beetlejuice and his daughter played a gentle game of catch while Lydia set out the food, then watched them for a little while, smiling. "If you two don't get over here soon, the dragonflies are going to carry off our whole lunch," she finally called.

Beatie loved dragonflies, the little dragonets with wasp-like wings. But when it came to sharing her food with them – that was not going to happen.

Lunch was eaten with great pleasure, Lydia keeping her camera close. She still had not managed a photo of a ruffled grouch, even after all these years. But she kept hoping.

When the food was mostly gone, Beetlejuice settled in for a nap, Lydia opened her camera bag to get out her light meter, and Beatie picked up her werewolf doll and said, "I'm going to show Mr. Fuzzface the trees, Mama." (She had adopted the doll's name from a suggestion from her Papa and he and her Mama had exchanged amused smiles at a certain memory.)

"Don't go too far," Lydia pointed to a large bush next to a tall sicklemore tree. "No further than that, okay?"

"'kay," Beatie scrambled off the orange, green, and purple plaid blanket and headed off, telling Mr. Fuzzface that they were going to find a grouch for Mama.

"I'll keep an eye on her," murmured a somnolent, recumbent Beetlejuice. "So to speak."

For several minutes, Lydia did light tests, cleaned her lenses, and checked periodically on her daughter, playing at the foot of the sicklemore tree. Then, she realized that the happy chatter she'd heard had faded into the distance. "Beej?" she said, alert but not alarmed.

"I've got her. She thought she heard a grouch and went to look for it. She's probably lost by now, but she's not far away at all."

Lydia sighed. "It's a good thing that she's independent, but wandering off like that, after I told her not to . . ."

Beetlejuice sat up half-way, leaning on one elbow. "I won't let her get too afraid, but she's got to learn to mind us."

"I know. Just . . . not too long, okay? She's still only five."

"Hold it!" He suddenly held up a hand, then stared into the trees. "Somebody . . ." And he vanished.

Only to reappear seconds later with his daughter in his arms. "Here," he told Lydia. "She's fine, just a little scared," and disappeared again.

ooooo

Fifteen minutes went by, which were spent in comforting and gently scolding a repentant Beatie, who said that she only wanted to help Mama find a grouch. Mama explained carefully why that was a bad idea and then Beatie told her someone called her from behind a tree, saying "Come here to Papa, little girl."

When she heard that Lydia clutched her daughter to her in alarm before she realized they had both been juiced home, with the picnic paraphernalia spread out on the parlor floor around them.

At that moment, Beetlejuice appeared and reached for Beatie at once. "You still okay?" he asked, picking her up and holding her close. When she nodded and hugged him, he sighed and reached for his wife with his free arm. "There was someone there and he heard Trix playing and knew we weren't very close. So he tried to call her over to him."

Beatie interjected at that point. "I knew it wasn't Papa. He didn't call me Trix. He called me little girl. I'm not a little girl!"

"Well, I think you may be wrong about that," said her mother. "But at least you realized it wasn't Papa." She took Beatie from Beetlejuice and hugged and kissed her. "So did you learn anything from this? Maybe to listen to us and do what we say?"

Beatie frowned and muttered, "I was bad. I'm sorry, Mama. Sorry, Papa. But I won't do it again." She peeped up at them hopefully.

"Still," said her father, "supper in the playroom tonight, by yourself."

"Okay," Beatie agreed sadly and he kissed her forehead.

Lydia snuggled up next to her husband, needing another hug and some reassurance. He gave her both and then she asked what had happened to the stranger in the Neitherwoods.

"Took him to the cop shop. Turns out he's got a record of hanging around kids and acting weird. They were glad to see him brought in on something they could charge him with." Beetlejuice looked grim.

"Beej, you didn't . . . hurt him or anything?" Lydia shook her head. "I almost wish you had."

"Nah, I didn't hurt him at all. Well, not very much. Well, not too much. Well, just a little. Well . . ."