In Which Raia Suggests a Sorry

February 22, 1158

Most times when Raia played with the ark, she liked to model Noah and his wife after her own two parents; he was handsome and charismatic, while she was charming and beautiful. However, that was getting rather dull, she found, like a favorite bedtime story that had been told just one too many times, so tonight, Noah was Falidor.

He was a silly sort of man--very kind, but not particularly bright. His wife was more clever than he, but she was frightfully wicked, and thought her husband the lowest of all the animals on the ark.

"Gimme bread, Noah!" Raia spat sourly, voicing the cruel wife.

The Noah doll shook his head as she spun him round in her hand. "Yes, dear," 'he' sighed.

"And milk," his wife added. "And it better be cold!"

Raia made Noah nod. "Yes, dear."

"And honey!" demanded the wife.

"Yes, dear," Noah repeated pathetically.

There was no way Raia could make Noah's wife smile sadistically, but she could see the expression in her mind's eye, and when playing alone, that was as good as real. "And when you're done that, clean up the horse shit!"

"Yes, d--"

"Now where on earth," came her grandfather's voice from behind her, "did you learn that word, young lady?"

Turning around to face him, Raia shrugged. "I dunno. People say it all the time--Papa, Mama, Falidor..."

Grandpapa frowned. "Oh, do they?"

"Uh-huh," she insisted with a nod. "You say it too. At supper, when Mama asked you if you wanted dessert, you said..."

"...shit?" he finished for her.

"No!" giggled Raia; Grandpapa was so silly sometimes. "You said 'yes'! Silly Grandpapa--dessert's not shit!"

Chuckling to himself, Raia's grandfather shook his head. "I'm going to have to tell Papa to wash your mouth; seems you have your namesake's knack for cursing. Now, keep it down, or you'll wake your brothers."

This didn't seem too likely to Raia--both Jadin and Searle were snoring more loudly than Falidor had after he'd gotten drunk at supper--but since they were babies, and she was the only one of the three of them who could possibly be punished for anything, she did as she was told. Oftentimes, she'd heard her mama complain about being the youngest. Raia heartily disagreed; being the oldest was far worse.

"And speaking of sleep," her grandfather mused, taking her in his strong, old arms, "what are you doing out of bed, missy?"

"Jadin and Searle snore!" insisted Raia. "If I don't sleep before them, I don't sleep at all--and they're babies, so they're always asleep!"

Grandpapa shook his head. "You're not much more than a baby yourself, pet. How'd you even get down here, anyway?"

"Easy," she replied. "I climbed."

"Figures. Your father used to do that too, when he was small."

Stubbornly, Raia shook her head as she ran her hand against her grandfather's graying beard; it felt quite like her father's, only somewhat thicker. "Papa was never small."

"And how would you know that?" demanded Grandpapa playfully. "Your papa's been around a lot longer than you have, and I've been around a lot longer than he has, so I would know. At one point, he was smaller than you are. Smaller than Jadin--even smaller than Searle."

"No!" gasped Raia in disbelief.

Her grandfather nodded, his eyes widening. "Oh, what a rascal he was! That boy required far more scoldings than your Uncle Rudolphus ever did, and sometimes, I think they did absolutely nothing."

"Is that why you and Papa don't like each other very much?"

Grandpapa fell silent. Then--

"It's not that I don't like your papa, Raia; I love your papa more than anything else in the world. It's just... well, I've done some things that weren't very nice, and now he doesn't like me all that much anymore."

"Oh."

This was problematic, Raia realized. As much as she loved her grandfather, she loved her father infinitely moreso; how could she feel good about being around her grandfather if her father didn't like him?

"Can't you just say you're sorry?" she suggested; it seemed a simple enough solution. "Maybe he'll like you again."

He sighed. "I don't think that would work, pet."

"Why not?"

"Because 'sorry' only excuses little things," he explained, suddenly letting his fingers run wild under her arm. "Like tickling you!"

"Don't!" Raia screamed between fits of giggles. "Stop it!"

Relenting, he lowered his hand and released his low, gruff laugh. "Sorry, pet."

Raia nodded. "It's fine."

"See?" offered Grandpapa. "Now we're friends again. 'Sorry' works for some things, Raia, but what's between me and your father is beyond 'sorry'. When you're older, you'll understand. In the meantime, I won't tell your parents you were awake if you don't tell your father about this talk--fair enough?"

"All right," agreed Raia as he lowered her into her bed.

"And you be a good girl and go to sleep," he added. "Promise?"

Gazing up at him solemnly, she repeated in a whisper, "Promise."

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