Grampy Fernside's Arc

Chapter 21 of 22

Grampy slept in his chair by the window, his cane leaning against the wall. The bouquet waited on the table, eighteen blooms tied in ivory ribbon. The picnic was planned. But the pavilion sat across the meadow, and his back would not let him carry the basket that far. He did not know his granddaughter had a plan of her own. Delphine crept into the shed after dark. Togg dropped from the top shelf and landed beside her. "He gave up on the basket," she whispered. "He shouldn't have to." "Then we fix it," Togg said. He was Grampy's oldest deal-maker, the chipmunk who ran the shed at night and never backed down from anything. He pointed his nose at a shape under a cloth in the corner. "That." They pulled the cloth away. Under it sat an old baby carriage, one wheel cracked, the cushion split and gray with dust. Delphine ran her hand over the wooden body. "We can roll the basket in this. No lifting." They worked through the night. Delphine tightened the cracked wheel while Togg gnawed loose threads from the torn cushion. She stitched the seam with strawberry-red yarn. She rubbed the wood until the old heart carved on its side showed clean again. Her hands slowed. Her head dipped. Long past midnight she curled under a blanket on the shed floor and slept. Togg looked at the half-fixed carriage and the sleeping girl. One wheel still wobbled. Dawn was coming. He scrambled out the door and up the treeline. He found the pregnant red squirrel first, listening from her log. "Grampy fed you all season," Togg said. "Time to pay it back." He woke the finch that guarded the garden. He rapped on the toad's rock. One by one the critters came. They packed the cushion tight with dry moss. The squirrel held the wobbly wheel steady while Togg wedged an acorn cap under the axle to lock it true. The finch tugged the last thread snug. By the time the sky turned pale, the carriage stood whole. Its wheels ran smooth. The green cushion sat plump and clean. Togg tucked leaves along the rim and slipped away. Grampy woke at first light and reached for his cane. He shuffled to the shed and stopped in the doorway. Delphine sat blinking in the straw beside a mended carriage, the blanket still around her shoulders. "You did all this?" he said. "Alone? Through the night?" Delphine rubbed her eyes. "Not alone. I fell asleep." She patted the wooden side. "Togg finished it. He brought the whole forest." She stood and pushed the carriage to him. It rolled without a squeak. "You can use this to carry the basket and bouquet. No lifting. No hurting your back." Grampy set the picnic basket inside. It fit as if the carriage were built for it. He gripped the handle and pushed. The wheels turned easy across the floor. The meadow was no longer too far.