Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kate huddled herself deep within the sea of flowing wheat, every inch of her almost vibrating with giddy anticipation as the delicate stalks that were just starting to fade into golds and browns hid her from immediate sight amid the rest of the growing fields.

“Where’s my Sprout gotten off to now?”

Grandpa’s loud, pondering voice drew closer, his work boots crunching on the dirt path that led to the house. She could just see the top of his capped head from her hiding spot, and she stifled the giggles that almost escaped her in her excitement. “She’s not in the greenhouse, and she’s not by the well, so that means she must be….”

Suddenly he was above her, his tanned, sun-worn face peeking down through the wheat with a broad smile, brown eyes crinkled with deep lines. “…right here!”

Kate shrieked in joyful surprise as his hands came down to lift her from her hiding place, bringing her up to match his much taller frame so quickly she thought this must be what flying feels like, the movement blowing her wild dark hair back from her face.

He set her back on solid ground with a fond laugh, hands on his hips as he looked down at her. “I should have known that I’d find a Sprout among the crops.”

“I could have hidden longer,” she insisted with as much authority as a 7-year-old could muster, matching his pose. “You’re too tall to play hide and seek with, Grandpa.”

He laughed again, hearty and cheerful, as he ran one of his hands over his bushy beard. It was more gray than brown, like the hair that hid under his cap, and it scratched her face whenever he would kiss her cheek even though she pretended it didn’t. She didn’t want him to get rid of it, because if it got even more gray, he would look like Santa, and she could tell all her friends at school that her grandpa was Santa and they would have to believe her.

“We’ll have to find a new game to play the next time you visit,” he agreed, matter-of-factly, but still a sobering feeling of disappointment settled over Kate’s little shoulders.

Her parents were coming to bring her back home the next morning; summer was just about over, and she wouldn’t see Grandpa again until next year, or maybe the Feast of the Winter Star if either Grandpa or her parents could make the time to take the trip to each other. Grandpa had to work really hard all year, he told her, and it was hard for him to leave the farm for very long. And Momma and Daddy had to work really hard all year too, they said, and that’s why it was easier for just her to stay with Grandpa during the summer instead of all of them visiting at the same time.

She knew that eventually her time with him would end as it did every summer, but it didn’t stop the heavy sadness that closed around her heart at the realization that that time had already arrived so soon.

Grandpa must have seen her face fall, because his own softened as he crouched down next to her. “Come on, we’ve still got a little bit of this day left together. What do you want to do?”

Kate looked out at the green fields that blanketed Grandpa’s farm, all of them filled to the brim with corn and pepper plants and bright pink melons. As the sun to the west dipped even lower, turning the sky from fiery oranges to softer pinks and purples, she noticed little pinpricks of light starting to glow from the long grass around the farm’s little pond not too far away.

“Look! The fireflies!” she exclaimed in a hushed whisper, pointing to the pool as Grandpa turned to follow her gaze. “Can we go catch some?”

He gave her a gentle smile. “Of course, Sprout.”

She dashed over to the pond, causing more of the fireflies to leave their hiding spots and create even more floating lights all around her. She chased the little bugs with peals of delighted laughter, managing to capture a few in her cupped hands as Grandpa joined her, and she showed them to him as she beamed with pride.

“Wonderful job,” he said, holding her hands within his own. “Remember to let them go after you catch them; they deserve to keep flying free around the farm.”

Together they let the fireflies in her hands take flight again, joining the others that danced around the water and the tall summer grass. Kate watched in wonder at the soft glow as Grandpa stood beside her, one hand on her shoulder.

“Why don’t the fireflies come out during the day?” she asked him, looking up with big, inquisitive eyes.

“Well, they need to sleep during the day so they can be awake to fly and light up at night,” he explained. “It’s called being nocturnal. And they wouldn’t look so special in the daytime anyway since you wouldn’t be able to see them glow.”

“I wish I could glow,” she sighed wistfully, and Grandpa chuckled as he leaned over to hoist her up to sit on his shoulders.

“You’d make a very pretty firefly, I’m sure,” he said as he started walking in the direction of his farmhouse. “Now, I think the saloon is still open for a little while longer. Should we get some ice cream?”

She gasped is surprised glee—Grandpa never let her have treats this late no matter how many times she tried to convince him otherwise. “Yeah! I’m gonna get chocolate and cookie dough!”

He walked the path from the farm to Pelican Town, going past the quiet bus stop as the last evening birds sang in the trees around them and crickets chirped from the bushes. Kate rested her hands on top of his head.

“I think this is the best day ever,” she announced as they reached the edge of town.

Grandpa turned his head to try and look at her. “How do you figure?”

“Because I got to have pancakes this morning, and I got to buy seeds with you at the store, and I got to play with Emily even though Haley tried to play with us too, and then we played hide and seek and go-fish and we saw the fireflies and now I get ice cream before bed!”

He smiled at the cascade of words from her, unbothered by her stream of consciousness. “That does sound like a pretty good day. We’ll have to have more pancakes when you’re back next summer.”

Again that sinking feeling of sadness washed over her. “I’m gonna miss you Grandpa,” she almost whispered.

He squeezed one of her legs where he held her steady. “I’ll miss you too, Sprout. But I’ll probably see you for Winter Star, and I’ll call you and send you letters until then, like I always do.”

“And you’ll tell me about how the plants are growing and what Emily is doing and Miss Marnie’s farm animals right?”

He lifted her from his shoulders and set her on the cobblestone just outside the saloon and extended one pinky toward her. “Promise.”

She hooked her small pinky finger with his large, sturdy one, grinning at him with a smile already missing a tooth or two, and skipped into the saloon as he held the door open for her, Grandpa following close behind.