2:5

Meredith stood in the kitchen and surveyed the table. The kids would be back from skating in a bit and the ham was in the oven. The rosemary-roasted potatoes were filling the room with a sufficiently warm and cozy smell, and she had the mugs of hot chocolate all ready for the milk warming on the stove. Everything was set, and she supposed it was time for a bit of a break.

Meredith wandered into the big sun room off the kitchen and sank onto the cushions on the bench. This was her favorite place for breakfast because the sun streamed in the east windows and she could curl up with her coffee and enjoy the warmth. Lately the beaver had taken to joining her. They usually sat in companionable silence and watched the sun rise, but this morning he had watched her for a few minutes and then asked a most unusual question.

Thinking back, Meredith now wondered why she was more surprised by the nature of the question than at the fact that the beaver had spoken to her. Until this morning he hadn’t said a word, although he was quite a good communicator — much better, in fact, than most of the people she’d had to work with over the years. But it  seemed natural that the beaver would speak when he had something to say, and not when he didn’t. Showed a lot of sense in her books. Wise old beaver, she thought with a smile. Wise old young beaver.

This morning the beaver had broken the spell by gazing at her with his soft brown eyes and asking whether she felt ready to talk about it yet.

“About what?”

“Barney,” he said softly.

Well, hadn’t she made a fool of herself then. The noise she had made. Why, it sounded more like a choking Pekingese than anything a proper adult should make. Meredith frowned at the memory. Today of all days, why would the beaver bring that up. No one’s business but her own and certainly not something she was prepared to discuss with a guest in her house.

But was he really a guest? A few times over the past week Meredith had found herself thinking of the beaver as family, thinking of the future again. It had been cold for a bit, dipping down to minus 35 at night and not much better during the day. Today was the first half-decent day in a week, and she’d been planning on getting out with the kids and stretching her soul. The one thing that could make her antsy was being inside too many days in a row, and there weren’t many chores or excuses to drag her out on bitter days. But somehow having the beaver around had changed the tenor of her days. Watching him waddle across the yard from the shop in the mornings and sharing the morning sun with him took the edge off the stir-crazy.

He usually spent the afternoons on his own, sometimes at the house but usually back in  the lodge he’d constructed up in the shop, doing whatever beavers-of-an-unusual nature did. It was a comfortable arrangement.

This morning, though, she awoke ready to go, feeling the temperature rising and anticipating some time out in the fresh prairie air. Then the beaver had spoken. And here she was, still cooped up in the house while everyone else was out and about enjoying the day. Even the beaver had gone for a walk, leaving her immersed in her own thoughts. She was strongly inclined to think some distinctly uncomplimentary thoughts in that beaver’s direction right now. Very uncomplimentary.