"Hey, Daddy," Angelina said. She leaned down and kissed his forehead. He grinned up at her, the wrinkles near the corners of his eyes more prominent than the last time she'd seen him. His hair had more grey in it, too. Leaning her hip against the counter top, Angelina returned his smile with a slightly sad one of her own. For the first time, she could see her father getting older before her eyes. It left a heavy feeling inside her chest, like she her heart was weighed down by rocks and slowly sinking to the bottom of a lake.
"Where're your babies?" he asked, glancing behind her. He was just as obsessed with his grandkids as they were with him, which was to say a lot.
Angelina smiled. "George is bringing them in. They wanted to explore your garden."
Her father was obsessed with gardening and tending to rare magical plants. His backyard was full of plants that Angelina wasn't quite sure were legal to have. When she was a kid, she would hide in her dad's garden and wait for him to find her. It had a seemed like maze back then, so easy to get lost in and so many hiding places. In reality, it was barely an acre of land that he'd fenced in and kept up. When she walked through it now, Angelina could notice things that were off — a plant sitting the wrong way or a new species that her father wasn't necessarily interested in — and it made her wonder if her father was paying someone to do the work for him. He'd never ask her to do it because he wouldn't want to 'impose' on her.
Since May of last year, her father's health had been slowly rolling downhill. He would take more time to get up out of a chair than he used to or take longer to get over a cold. It wasn't serious yet, but it was certainly something that Angelina took note of.
"Still as sly as ever?" he asked her.
Angelina snorted. "Have you met my kids? Of course. Even little Roxanne is shaping up to be a troublemaker. I'm beginning to think the only thing they got from me was their looks."
"Hey now." Angelina spun around to see George coming in through the backdoor, Roxanne in his arms and Freddy rushing past him. "Don't act like you were so innocent when we were in school. I seem to remember you causing your fair share of trouble."
"Which was nothing in comparison to you," she muttered.
"Hey, Pops!" Freddy yelled as he hugged his grandfather around the waist.
Nothing ever warmed Angelina's heart like seeing her kids and her father together.
"Hey there, Freddy," he said. "How've you been?"
"Good," he said. "I get to start school in the fall."
Freddy was turning five next month, and then in seven short months, he would be off to learn his ABCs and numbers. Merlin help the teacher who had to deal with him.
"That's exciting. What do you want to learn most?" her dad asked.
"Oh, nothing," Freddy said. "I just want to go because James is going, too, and we'll be in the same classes."
Roxanne finally toddled over to her grandfather, her curls bouncing along the way. George grinned down at her, arms crossed over his chest. When she reached him, Angelina's dad picked Roxanne up and sat her on his lap. The little girl giggled and patted his cheek while Freddy continued to ramble on about what he and James were going to get into when they went to school.
"I'm gonna start dinner, Dad," Angelina said. When he started to protest, Angelina held up her hand. "I don't want to hear any complaints."
"I'll make sure she doesn't burn the place down," she heard George say as she pushed the kitchen door open. Her father's house was small. The kitchen had limited cabinet space and a small fridge that was usually overstocked. Looking back, Angelina wondered how he'd managed to take care of her in such a small home. The advantages of having only yourself and your daughter to look after, she supposed.
"He seems to be doing well today," George said as he reached for a pan under the stove. Angelina loved that he knew where things were in her dad's house.
"Yeah," she said as she found some pasta in the cabinet. "I'm just hoping that it stays that way."
He filled pan with water. "He still won't go talk to a Healer?"
"Nope." Angelina poured the pasta into the water and pointed her wand at the stove burner to heat it up. "And I can't say that I blame him. The only thing they're going to tell him is that he's getting old."
"Maybe. Maybe not." George was silent, leaning against the sink with his ankles crossed. "Maybe you could get Katie to come and see him. Wouldn't technically be a visit to St. Mungo's then."
Angelina snorted. "You're devious, you know that?" Thing was, Angelina knew her friend would do it in a heartbeat and would never let on why she was here. That was why Angelina never told her about her suspicions when it came to her father's health, never told anyone except George. "He'd never forgive me for that, and you know it."
She turned back to the pot of boiling pasta, watching the steam rise and evaporate. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, and George was nestling that damn beard into her neck again. She bit her lip to hide her grin.
"I know, baby," he said. "I wish this were easier for you."
"So, do I." She shrugged. "At least the kids make him happy."
George snorted. "Happily exhausted."
"I like to think it's a good kind of exhausted."
George hummed. They were both silent then, listening to muffled sounds of Freddy's voice and Roxanne's giggles. Occasionally, she heard her father laugh rather loudly and the sound brought a bright smile to her face.