22 December, 1894 — Irvingly Ice Skating Event

Inspired by the resounding success of his Christmas-tree cutting outing earlier in the month (fully sarcastic), Ezra was out once again attempting a Festive Family Outing. He'd been talked into this one because the stakes were lower, or so said his mother. No magic, full daylight, no rows upon rows of trees in which to lose a child. You must do something with him, Ezra, she had said. Ezra cynically assumed her insistence stemmed more from her desire to have the child start behaving well enough that he was no longer disruptive to her home life; she had to deal with the child more often than he did, since he was often working. But he noted that she had not volunteered to take him anywhere, probably under the firm belief that her tour of duty as a parent to petulant children was long since over.

They'd arrived and had taken up station at the edge of the lake, both watching the lake balefully. Ezra didn't know what he'd expected; the kid was only just big enough to run, and certainly lacked the balance for ice skating. Based on his expression he also lacked the inclination; he was watching the skaters as though they were aliens performing strange rituals from a foreign world. At least he seemed keen on the toy he'd been given, a small wooden animal. Ezra wasn't sure if it was meant to be a horse or a rhinoceros or something else, and the boy wouldn't show it to him clearly or answer any questions about it, so he supposed he'd never know.

"Want a cocoa?" he asked the boy. He assumed they sold some, somewhere around here. The child didn't answer him but looked at him warily. Ezra sighed. "If I go get one, will you stay right here until I get back?" he asked. He wasn't especially keen on the idea of letting the boy out of arm's reach, but he'd been standing in one place for the past thirty minutes anyway. If he did move, Ezra would certainly see it. This was a nice, open space; no places to hide under tree boughs.

The boy nodded, cautious.

"Alright, then," Ezra said, recognizing this was the closest thing to a promise he could expect. He drifted away towards some booths and found a line, peering out from the back of it to see what the people at the front were getting. Ice skates, apparently. Ezra shook his head and stepped out of the queue — and into the person coming up behind him to join it. "Oh, sorry. I joined the wrong line — you go ahead."

---

  

---

She'd known it was going to be a little warmer this afternoon than was normal, but Annie was thoroughly pleased with the warm sunshine and lack of a breeze that often made being outside in the winter uncomfortable. Irvingly was not often somewhere she visited, but it was hard to pass up something fun like the skating event. With the park in Hogsmeade still closed there wasn't much to do in town that got Annie out of the house and this had been the perfect excuse.

It was more crowded than she realized it would be. It was such a romantic little notion, the mixed magical-muggle town where everybody lived side-by-side and they made it work. She was charmed by the whole idea of it. She had Reed meandering around behind her, too busy taking in the sights himself to be strictly watching her.

Annie was looking for the place to rent skates, trying to look through the crowd when somebody bumped into her. She nearly toppled over, in a comical showing of flailing her arms, but didn't quite manage to go all of the way down. Once she righted herself, Annie blinked at the gentleman who had nearly knocked her over. "Mr. Applegate, my apologies." She warmed instantly, recognizing Hanna's brother. She didn't know much about him, aside from what was public knowledge, but he was Hanna's brother and so she didn't always hold the public's opinion as her own.

---

  

---

The person he'd nearly collided with recognized him, which could be good or bad. He had mostly moved past the point where people in society knew his name because they heard a rumor about Rosie and pitied him. And she sounded pleased enough, though it took him a second to place her face. A friend of Hanna's. Her name was... Ann, maybe? Mc-something. He wasn't a very attentive brother, he was reflecting.

"Oh, hello," he said, still struggling for her name but putting on an expression of warm recognition. "I was looking for the cocoa booth. Have you seen it? — Miss McKelvey," he added as he finally landed on her name. "For the boy."

---

  

---

It took a moment for what Mr. Applegate to dawn on her. The boy. His nephew. Of course. Annie had heard about their loss from Hanna. She looked around to see if she could spot the child, but since she didn't exactly know who to look for, it wasn't immediate. That was... concerning, he was young wasn't he? Hopefully the nanny was with them. She had enough younger cousins and family members to know how quickly children got into trouble.

"It's right over there, I can show you if you like?" Annie offered with a smile. Skating could wait a moment, she supposed. A warm cup of cocoa didn't seem like a bad idea. "I'm very sorry for your loss," she added because she felt like she should say something. She couldn't imagine losing a sibling. Her sister had passed in infancy, before she was born, and she could still see the impact it had on her family.

---

  

---

Her sympathies caught him off guard. He had started to step in the direction she'd indicated for the cocoa booth, but stopped short. There shouldn't have been anything surprising about a sentence like that. Cecilia had died months ago, and in the immediate aftermath so many people had said it that the phrases blended together into background noise. Maybe it was precisely because it had been a while, and most people had stopped remarking upon it, that this one snagged him.

"Mmm," he mumbled in agreement. He did miss Cecilia. Sometimes he forgot. It was easier to focus on everything that was more pressing — usually his overwhelming frustration at being left to parent her child, a task he was entirely unequipped for. Occasionally with Hanna, who had been driven more desperate by the time spent in mourning and who wanted to marry at all costs. Sometimes with other things. But with or without the boy and his sulky, silent stares, with or without Hanna's trembling hands, he did miss his sister.

This felt like an inappropriate place for grief.

"Would you?" he asked, to steer the conversation away. "Show me?"

---

  

---

Annie hadn't meant to make anyone uncomfortable, so she let the conversation slide into the change of topic. She really was better at talking about the weather than just about anything else.

"I'd love to. Does the nanny have your nephew? Should we let her know?" She wondered, or maybe have the little one come with them? Annie had always been pretty good with children, though she didn't have too much experience, so she wouldn't mind. She just barely refrained from looking around, it wasn't like she knew who she was looking for after all. The child wasn't that old, if she remembered right, but she hadn't met all of Hanna's family, or it had been a long while since.

---

  

---

"She will," he answered. "It's fine." She had been hovering around them when he'd started off this direction. Out of earshot but within sight, too far to be tempted to help with anything. Giving them space, presumably, so as not to intrude, but Ezra suspected she was mostly loitering farther away because she needed a break occasionally, too. The boy was a handful for anyone. The nanny was tired, his mother was exasperated, he was at a loss. He couldn't begrudge her stepping back, but he had no doubt she'd drift closer when it became clear he wasn't imminently returning. Certainly she wouldn't let the boy run off and disappear into the trees, like he'd tried to do at the Christmas tree farm.

He didn't think about her question fully until half a second later. Should he have let the nanny know? He didn't know how these arrangements usually worked; he was still new to this. Ought handing off care of a child to someone be a more formal process than just wandering away? Probably. On the other hand, he doubted she had ever stopped watching the boy, really. No one who had seen him interact with the child could really conclude that he was the responsible party when the boy's well fare was concerned. It was just so abundantly clear that he had no idea what he was doing.

He glanced back at the lake. The boy was still staring at the ice, sullen. The nanny had, as he'd suspected, drifted closer, though she was still pointedly not interacting with him. Just within arm's reach, in case anything should happen. "That's him," he said, pointing. He didn't know why he'd felt the need to point him out to Miss McKelvey, and now he felt conspicuous about how miserable the child looked. "This was supposed to be fun, but I don't think he's interested in ice skating."

---

  

---

Will have him. Was not an inspiring reply and Annie was relieved when Mr. Applegate pointed them out over by the lake's edge. There was indeed a nanny hovering nearby, but he was also right in that the boy didn't look all that happy. It must have been hard, for everyone involved, to have gone through what they did. It was going to take some time.

"He's little still," she said gently, smiling in the little boy's direction. "But it was a good idea." Distraction was often a good way to help pass the time. "We can bring him with us, if you want?" She offered, thinking that maybe since she had fresh patience for the situation, she might be able to help with the excitement for the day. There were all sorts of things to see between here and the cocoa booth, maybe something would catch interest.

---

  

---