laugh - he really did. But the picture on the screen was Morgan's scowl on the face of a forty-eight-year-old man. He shook his head at his daughter. "How come you can't copy my more laudable character traits, hmm, monkey girl?"
She beamed at him and reached for his fingers. "'Cones."
Scones, indeed. He nodded his head at Sophie. "You might as well go on in - we'll be a while yet. Someone has a mind of her own."
"Like father, like daughter, I'd say." Sophie stuck her hands in her pockets and patiently followed Morgan's determined waddle. "Besides, we're in no hurry. Adam likes it outside."
Apparently Marcus was the only one who wanted to sink his teeth into a blueberry scone today.
Sophie squatted down again and cleared leaves and winter groundcover off a small circle of earth in one of the inn's flower beds. Then she laid her palm flat on the bare ground and murmured a few words.
Marcus blinked as a bright yellow daffodil pushed its way up through the soil. Moments later, it had two friends. Just looking at them made him unreasonably happy. "Are you crazy? It's the middle of March - they'll be dead in a couple of days."
"I know." She smiled up at him. "But for the next two days, they'll brighten the spirit of everyone who walks by." She patted the baby on her front. "And Adam likes to watch them grow."
The baby was indeed watching - and so was Morgan.
Sophie smiled at his girl. "Want to see some more grow, sweet pea?" She cleared another small circle of bare earth. This time, her words were audible - a simple grow spell.
"Fower." His girl was enchanted. Carefully, she dropped to her knees by the pretty daffodil and touched its bright petals. "Fower."
Marcus resigned himself to stale scones and crouched down beside her. "Those are yellow daffodils."
"Wehwoh." Again she touched the daring petals.
"She's talking very well," said Sophie, smiling.
With Lizzie and all the other womenfolk of the village babbling to her all day long, it was hardly a surprise.
Morgan looked up at Sophie, her pudgy little mitten-clad hands moving in the sign for more.
Sophie grinned. "Last one - then it will be time to go in for scones, okay?"
Marcus watched the little circle of daffodils rise up through the soil. The miracle didn't lessen with repetition. And given the village traffic through the doors of the inn most days, they would induce a lot of smiles.
Almost as many as blueberry scones.
He reached for Morgan's hand. "Time to go inside."
She looked up at him, lavender eyes big and earnest. And signed again. More.
If it had been in his power, he'd have risen up a meadow of daffodils for her in that moment. Gently, he brushed dirt off her cheek. "Dada can't grow flowers, lovey."
Her eyes and her faith never wavered.
"It's not a difficult spell." Sophie's mind danced with mischief.
Good grief. "I'm not an earth witch."
"Morgan thinks you are."
Marcus glared at the woman who was suddenly making his day difficult. And couldn't avoid the lavender eyes still watching his.
Fine. They'd all just have to learn from failure, then. Suddenly very grumpy, he brushed winter detritus aside and laid his palm on the soil. Damn fool witches, trying to grow daffodils in frozen ground. He grabbed the tiny little trickle of earth power that had mysteriously joined his magic a few months back and repeated Sophie's grow spell.
Morgan watched the ground, eyes big.
Magic's more than just words, monkey girl. He waited for her lips to start quivering.
A tiny little shoot pushed up through the soil.
Marcus stared at it in total disbelief. "I can barely open a blossom. That shouldn't be possible."
"Maybe last year." Sophie raised an eyebrow. "New powers often gain in strength. When's the last time you used them?"
He was a serious witch. Not one who ran around making flowers bloom.
"Give it another push." She nodded at the small blade of green. "One more and you might have a daffodil."
He meant to say no. Had it on the tip of his tongue.
And then Morgan nestled into his chest, still watching the bit of green. "Fower."
He laid his hand on the soil again and sent a pulse of magic, less begrudgingly this time.
When his daughter reached out to touch the new yellow petals, just as awed as she'd been the first time, he felt like he'd granted her kingdoms.
With a magic he'd had no idea he possessed.
Cass sat down at her desk, belly uncomfortably full of beef stew and biscuits.