I sat on the farmhouse porch, nerves creeping in. It had been over four years since Leia and I had left the farm at the same time. Ever since Link had been born, one of us was always there to make sure things ran smoothly. But that also meant we hadn’t been on a real date in over four years. Sure, we spent plenty of time together, but finding even a few minutes alone was rare. Now we had an entire evening ahead of us.

  I wasn’t just anxious about leaving the sprites in charge of the kids for a few hours—I was also worried that Leia and I wouldn’t have anything to talk about. Should I bring up the farm? The kids? Or were we supposed to be getting away from all that? I furrowed my brow, trying to come up with anything else we could talk about.

  “You ready to go?” Leia asked as the farmhouse door swung open. She stepped out, looking radiant in her pale blue dress—the one that always made her eyes shine—and, true to form, her trusty work boots. She was effortlessly beautiful. Standing next to her, I truly looked like a simple farmer, even in my nicest shirt and pants.

  “Am I underdressed?” I glanced down at my clean clothes. I’d changed into fresh ones to shake off the day’s work, but I still felt like a slob compared to her.

  Leia laughed, a light, carefree sound. “No, you look great. We’re just going to the inn, Matt. You don’t need to get all dressed up for that.”

  I nodded, though I found myself shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Are we sure we feel...” I lowered my voice, glancing back toward the farmhouse to make sure no one could hear, “comfortable leaving the kids with the sprites while Woods is gone?”

  Leia gave me a quizzical look. “Matt, we’re only going out to dinner. We won’t be gone long.”

  I shrugged, still unconvinced. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the sprites—they were more than capable, and they cared for my kids like their own. But something gnawed at me about leaving the farm without any adult supervision. I wasn’t over what had happened the last time I left the farm unattended during the fall festival all those years ago. When I came back, it was overrun with monsters, and I’d been forced to burn everything down just to reclaim it. And that was with Woods around.

  The memory tightened my chest, the scent of smoke and ash lingering in my mind, a grim reminder of how quickly things could spiral out of control. Even with the sprites’ help, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something could go wrong—again.

  Sensing my hesitation, Leia pressed on. “Plus, Reed and Ivy are here. And Maple—”

  “And me,” Holly chimed in, suddenly appearing in the doorway and startling both of us. “We’ll all be fine. You two go have a good time.”

  Leia smiled, her confidence unwavering.

  I sighed, my nerves easing ever so slightly. “All right then, let’s go.”

  ***

  Reed stood on the porch and watched the wagon carrying Matt and Leia disappear down the road, the dust trailing in the evening air. He turned to Ivy, who stood next to him. “I hope they have a good time. It’s been ages since they’ve had any time together.”

  Ivy nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, and Matt’s been so busy. Spring always keeps him on his toes.”

  With a shared sigh, they turned and stepped into the farmhouse, only to be greeted by utter chaos. Lucy, the youngest, was wreaking havoc, having already torn down half of Leia’s favorite lace curtains. Holly and Flint were scrambling to control the situation, but it was clear they’d let their guard down for just a second too long.

  Reed exchanged a glance with Ivy, who rolled her eyes in exasperation. Without hesitation, she moved forward to try to wrangle the tantrum-throwing toddler.

  At the kitchen table, Clay, Link, and Rock sat watching the spectacle with amusement, their eyes wide and gleaming with mischief. After a long pause, Clay turned to Reed, his face uncharacteristically serious. “Rock and I will watch Link. You guys can deal with Lucy.”

  Reed blinked, taken aback by Clay’s sudden display of responsibility. “Really, Clay? That’d be—” He hesitated. The two sprites and the small boy were already out the door, giggling as they left. His eyes narrowed. That’s going to come back to haunt me, isn’t it?

  There wasn’t much time to dwell on it, though, as a loud ripping sound filled the room. Lucy had succeeded in pulling the last of the curtains down, leaving the lace in a heap on the floor.

  “Holly, take Lucy to her room,” Reed ordered, his voice steady despite the chaos. He turned to Flint. “Flint, shift into your animal form—and Ivy, help me get these back up before Leia finds out.”

  In an instant, Flint changed into his animal form, and where a sprite once stood was now a tall, graceful deer. His antlers nearly scraped the ceiling as he stood still, ready for the task. Holly let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes, but obeyed Reed’s command. She half-walked, half-dragged Lucy, who had begun screaming loudly, toward her room.

  Reed and Ivy, each grabbing one end of the fallen curtains, scrambled up Flint’s back, awkwardly balancing themselves by holding onto his antlers with one hand while attempting to rehang the fabric with the other. The task wasn’t easy—between the swaying of the antlers and the delicate lace—but after a few moments of awkward adjustments and whispered curses, the curtains were finally back in place.

  Reed stepped back, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow as he examined their work. “Did it look like this before?”

  Ivy squinted at the curtains, her head tilting as she considered. “I think so.”

  “It looks the same to me. Honestly, I don’t know why Leia likes that ugly old lace,” Holly chimed in, standing nearby with her arms crossed, clearly unimpressed.

  Reed, Ivy, and Flint all froze, exchanging wide-eyed looks before turning slowly to Holly.

  “Holly…” Ivy’s voice had a sudden edge of panic. “Where’s Lucy?”

  Holly blinked, her smug expression vanishing. “Wait… wasn’t she—”

  ***

  Clay stood beside Rock and Link, surveying the orchard with a mischievous glint in his eye. The trees had grown tall, their thick branches intertwining to form a canopy that made the orchard feel more like a hidden forest. The three exchanged excited looks. Matt had gone into town for a few hours, and Woods had left earlier that day for the shores.

  It was the perfect opportunity for a little mischief.

  The evening sunlight filtered through the branches, casting dappled light on the rows of budding fruit trees. Beside them, the shiny metal spigot gleamed in the sunlight, the key to their grand plan. It controlled the water supply to the orchard, and over the years, both Clay and Rock had made countless attempts to get their hands on it. It was always heavily guarded—either by Matt or, worse, by Woods. They’d been caught more times than they could count, including one particularly humiliating time when Leia had caught them red-handed with the water running.

  But today, everything was in their favor. The orchard was quiet, Matt was busy, Woods was gone, and no one was around to stop them. The conditions were perfect.

  Mud was the ultimate goal, and with the spigot, they could flood the entire orchard and create a giant puddle of it.

  “Ready?” Clay whispered, his voice barely audible.

  “Ready!” Link replied excitedly.

  Both turned to Rock, who nodded eagerly as his hand hovered over the spigot’s valve. The sprites held their breath, casting nervous glances around the orchard, as if merely touching the spigot would summon Matt or Woods out of thin air and deliver swift punishment. In previous attempts, if Matt caught them, they were stuck cleaning the chicken coop for the day. But if Woods found them? Not only would they be cleaning the coop, but they’d be stuck sleeping in it for a week—a punishment that, truth be told, Clay didn’t entirely mind. After all, they’d done it enough times by now, and he’d never heard Rock complain about it either.

  Rock twisted the valve hard, and they all watched with delight as water began to spray out, soaking the ground around them immediately. The dry soil beneath them greedily drank up the water, the dirt growing slick. Link squealed with delight, giggling at the quickly forming puddles.

  Clay wasted no time jumping in and splashing Rock. “I told you this would be fun! Come on, guys, join in!”

  Link joined Clay, the four-year-old clapping his hands at the newly formed mud.

  Rock nervously looked around to ensure they hadn’t been caught. Seemingly satisfied that the coast was clear, he joined in. In no time at all, the three were utterly drenched in mud—splattered from head to toe. Their once-clean clothes were smeared with thick, wet earth, mud caking their hair and dripping from their hands as they tried to suppress their grins. It looked like they’d just celebrated a sprite birthday party.

  The trio began making a mud tower, stacking handfuls of muck until it was taller than all three of them. It toppled over, splashing their already-caked clothes.

  Link set to work mixing up a mud pie, adding dried leaves and sticks for decoration, and both sprites followed suit.

  Clay was making his third mud pie when the sound of running water brought him out of his task. He glanced around, noticing how far the water had spread. All of the rows of trees were now thoroughly drenched, small pools forming around each trunk.

  “Uh... Rock, this is getting a little out of hand,” Clay said nervously, glancing at the rising water.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Rock’s grin faltered, “Rock?” he asked.

  Both sprites glanced at Link, who was happily playing in the mud, unaware of how much the area had been flooded.

  “No, no, it’ll be fine. We can just... turn it off now, right?” Clay’s voice wavered slightly.

  Rock rushed over to the valve and twisted it, but the water didn’t stop. Instead, it kept flowing, even more so now.

  “Twist it the other way, Rock! That’s making more water come out!”

  The spigot began shaking, a high-pitched whine coming from the metal pipe. Link paused his play and glanced over, his eyebrow raised. “What’s going on?” he asked Clay and Rock.

  “Nothing! All good,” Clay said, trying to keep his voice even. “We know exactly what we’re doing because we’re the babysitters and we know everything.” He did his best to sound reassuring.

  Link shrugged and turned back to his mud creation.

  Panic quickly set in. The once dry orchard was now a mini swamp, deep water surrounding each tree trunk. Rock was still hurriedly trying to turn the shaking spigot when the metal valve popped off into Rock’s hand. Rock glanced at Clay, his eyes wide.

  “We’re in trouble,” Clay muttered. Clay didn’t know much about how the spigot worked, but he knew the system had been in place for a few years now, and it seemed the water pressure was too much for it.

  Rock’s eyes darted to Link. “Rock,” he said, shifting into his animal form.

  It was a good idea, and they did need to keep Link safe. That was priority number one. Rock lowered his antlered head to Link and scooped up the laughing child. He sat comfortably on top of the antlers as Rock moved him to the edge of the orchard. Clay noticed the water had slowed from a gush to a trickle, and while water was still leaking out, it probably wouldn’t flood the entire farm. After a few more minutes, the water stopped, as if the source had run dry.

  Clay glanced around at the flooded orchard, dread setting in. He turned to Rock, who was still with Link a few paces away. “We just... need to keep quiet about this. If they don’t see it before it dries, we’re in the clear, right?”

  Rock stamped his front leg, his eyes focused on the huge puddles that had collected around every trunk.

  “The trees will drink up the water, that’s what trees do. It’ll be fine.”

  Rock raised his eyebrows at Clay, which looked comical on his moose face. Link giggled, still caked in mud. At this point, the small child was more mud than boy, and it would take a while in the bath to get him all the way clean.

  “Maybe we can blame it on the irrigation system breaking by itself?” Clay suggested, a hint of desperation in his voice.

  Rock rolled his eyes before turning and trotting to the farmhouse, still balancing Link on his antlers. Clay took one final glance around the orchard, then quickly followed them, not wanting to be the only one left at the scene of the crime.

  ***

  Leia stared at me from across the table, smiling shyly. “What do you keep staring at, Matt Miller? Is there something on my face?”

  I smiled as well and leaned back in my chair. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just… even after five years of marriage, I’m still amazed by how beautiful you are.”

  Her smile widened. “Oh, you’re just saying that,” she said. “But you’re sweet to say so.”

  “It’s the truth,” I insisted. “If someone would have told me when I was eighteen years old that I’d be marrying a girl like you, I would have told them they were crazy—and not just because you’re an elf.”

  She tucked a lock of hair behind one of her pointed ears. “Not many elves in Phoenix, I take it?”

  “No,” I replied, grinning. “Not unless you count the ones at the mall at Christmas, but those weren’t really the dating type.”

  Cindy appeared at our table, setting down two pints of her famous cider. “Decided to have a night away from the kiddos, I take it?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, gratefully accepting the beverage. “Sometimes, it’s just nice to have a break, you know?”

  She smiled warmly. “Oh, I remember those days. Harvey used to put sleeping herbs in Martha’s supper just so we could have some alone time once in a while. Who did you get to watch after your little ones?”

  “Oh, one of my brothers,” Leia answered quickly.

  I could detect the hitch in Leia’s voice when she offered the lie, but Cindy merely nodded, accepting the answer at face value. Few people in Sagewood knew about the sprites’ existence, and it was a secret we were determined to keep.

  “What’s on the menu tonight, Cindy?” I asked, changing the subject. “Something smells good back there.”

  “Tonight is lamb stew, spiced potatoes, and herb bread—baked fresh this morning. And for dessert, I can prepare something special for you two lovebirds: applepeach cobbler and cream from a certain local farmer.” She winked.

  “That sounds incredible,” I replied.

  “Yes,” Leia said eagerly. “Put us down for a little of everything.”

  “Coming right up,” Cindy said, walking back toward the kitchen.

  A comfortable silence settled between me and Leia as the two of us sipped our cider. I glanced around the common room, recognizing every single face inside. A warm fire lit the hearth, and there was even soft music playing from a magical ‘music box’ that Melvin had made for Harvey about a year ago. The ambience was something that I doubted I’d ever grow tired of.

  Looking back at Leia, I tried to think of something to say that was different from our normal topics of conversation. But after several long minutes, I came up empty. “I wonder what the kids are up to right now,” I found myself saying, berating myself for not being more interesting.

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” Leia replied. “I hope that they’re all right.”

  I set my pint aside and took her hand across the table. “I’m sure they’re just fine,” I said, feigning confidence. “There’s lots of helping hands at the farmhouse. What’s the worst that could happen?” She gave me a flat look, and I retracted my hand, my confident mask slipping. Leia knew as well as I did that there was no limit to the trouble a group of magical sprites and two toddlers could cause. I cleared my throat and reached to take another sip of cider. “Well, I’m sure that the worst won’t happen,” I said after a moment. “Challenges always seem to bring our little babysitters together, not apart.”

  Leia’s lips curled up as her smile returned. “Our Lucy is more than a challenge all on her own. I swear, she’s got more dwarf in her than anything else.”

  I chuckled. “You may be right. Must come from her mother’s side of the family.”

  A short while later, Cindy returned with a tray laden with food. The fragrant stew steamed as she set two bowls in front of us, as well as a plate filled with crisp potato slices and a whole loaf of crusty bread. “Enjoy, you two,” she said. “And just holler if you need anything else.”

  “Will do, Cindy,” I replied. “Thank you.”

  We tore into the food with gusto.

  “I swear,” Leia said between bites, “that woman could give Maple a run for her money.”

  I nodded, chewing on a tender shank of lamb. “You can say that again. She could put Gordon Ramsay to shame.”

  Leia gave me a quizzical look. “Who’s Gordon Ramsay?”

  I swallowed and gave her a smirk. “He’s a really famous chef, but he’s also famous for being really mean. And British.”

  She drew her brows together. “And… remind me what British means again.”

  “It’s a country,” I explained, slathering some butter on a slice of bread. “Rainy, cold, and it’s where Harry Potter comes from.”

  “That’s right,” she said, nodding. “Harry Potter. Now I remember. And Monty Python as well, right?”

  “Yes,” I said seriously as I took another bite. “And don’t you forget it. This is important stuff, Leia.”

  She smiled at me, a twinkle in her eye.

  As we continued to eat, the comforting sounds of the common room filled the air—the clinking of glasses, the murmur of local gossip, and the gentle strumming from the music box. The warmth of the room, combined with the excellent food and company, made the evening feel timeless.

  “Matt,” Leia said after a while, her voice softening, “do you ever think about what life would be like if we hadn’t met?”

  I considered her question, looking into her deep, violet-blue eyes. “Honestly, I try not to. It’s hard to imagine a world without you in it. But if we hadn’t met, I’d probably still be wandering around, looking for something or someone to make life feel complete. Or maybe I would have gone back to Phoenix. But I know one thing: I definitely wouldn’t be as happy as I am right now—even with all the usual craziness of the farm.”

  She smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “I feel the same. You’ve turned my life into an adventure—an adventure I’ve always longed for.”

  We finished our meal in a companionable silence, each lost in thoughts of gratitude for the life we had built together. I forgot all about my worries and the strange goings on in Sagewood, instead enjoying this time alone with my best friend and wife. Cindy came back after a few minutes with the promised applepeach cobbler, drizzled with thick cream.

  “Here’s to adventure,” I toasted, raising my spoon like a glass.

  “To adventure,” Leia echoed, “and to us.” He clinked her spoon against mine before we both dug into the dessert, the sweetness a perfect end to a perfect evening out.

  ***

  Lucy had been found in the pantry, surrounded by several open bags of flour. The powdery white substance was scattered everywhere, and she sat in the middle of it all, laughing maniacally as if she’d just pulled off the greatest heist in history. Ivy and Holly wasted no time in scooping up the flour-coated toddler and whisking her away to the bathroom, leaving Flint and Reed to deal with the mess.

  Reed sighed, glancing around for a broom. “How are we supposed to clean this up?”

  “Maybe you could turn into your animal form and huff and puff and blow it all away,” Flint said, deadpan.

  Reed blinked, giving him a sidelong glance. He couldn’t tell if the suggestion was genuine. “You know that’s just a bedtime story Matt tells his kids, right?”

  Before Flint could answer, the front door creaked open. Reed turned, only to see Rock, Clay, and Link stroll into the farmhouse—each of them coated from head to toe in mud. They looked like they’d just taken a bath in a swamp.

  Reed gawked. Flint’s mouth hung open.

  “What happened to you three?” Reed asked, thoroughly bewildered.

  “Nothing,” Clay said, entirely too quickly. “Nothing happened to us, what do you mean?”

  “Rock,” Rock added, sounding nonchalant.

  A strained silence fell over the group, the mud dripping from the trio onto the floor, mixing with the flour in a way Reed was sure would make the mess that much more difficult to clean up.

  “Don’t go in the orchard,” Clay blurted before all three made a hasty retreat toward the bathroom. Seconds later, a chorus of shrieks rang out as Ivy and Holly’s voices echoed through the farmhouse, ordering the mud-soaked boys to leave. Reed could hear them trudging off to the second bathroom, the one connected to the master bedroom.

  Reed looked down at the floor, now a mess of flour and mud. He let out a long breath, shaking his head.

  “One crisis at a time,” he muttered to himself.

  ***

  All too quickly, our meal—and our date—was over.

  I paid for our dinner, politely declining the discount Cindy insisted on offering, and we stepped out into the crisp, refreshing air of the spring night. The air was brisk, carrying the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers. Leia wrapped her arm around mine as we climbed into the wagon, snuggling close to stave off the chill. I could feel her warmth against me as we rode down the winding path, the gentle creak of the wagon mixing with the quiet chirp of crickets. The sky above had deepened from the soft hues of dusk to a rich, velvety blue, stars just beginning to peek through the remaining wisps of pink clouds.

  By the time we reached the farmhouse, the moon had risen, casting a pale glow over the familiar landscape. The house looked peaceful, the golden flicker of firelight glowing in the windows. I hopped off the wagon and helped Leia up the stairs to the porch. We paused, savoring the quiet of the night. I leaned down and kissed her, not wanting the evening to end just yet.

  After a moment, we pulled apart, reluctant but knowing we had to eventually return to normal life. I opened the door, stepping inside only to be greeted by the sight of the sprites, sprawled out on the couch. They looked absolutely haggard—mud-splattered, exhausted, and wide-eyed—like they had just barely survived a battle.

  “Everything... all right?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I exchanged a glance with Leia.

  The sprites looked at each other, clearly trying to decide how much to tell us.

  Holly opened her mouth to speak first. “Those kids of yours were complete—”

  “Angels!” Ivy interrupted, shooting Holly a quick glare. “They were angels, and everything went according to plan. Nothing to worry about. They’re all washed up and in bed asleep.”

  “Rock,” Rock put in, and Clay and Reed bobbed their heads in agreement.

  I arched my eyebrow skeptically and glanced around. Despite the sprites’ haggard appearance, the farmhouse itself appeared spotless. I wasn’t sure how Rock and Clay got so muddy, but at this point, I was too afraid to ask. “That’s… good,” I found myself saying. “No injuries, dismemberments, anything like that?”

  The sprites all shook their heads.

  Leia beamed. “We appreciate you helping us watch the children. We needed a night away. To show our appreciation, we brought you something from the inn.” She reached into my bag and produced a wrapped bundle, setting it on the kitchen table. “Applepeach cobbler. And it’s still warm.”

  The sprites perked up, and Reed and Rock practically tripped over each other as they scrambled to get to the dessert, the others not far behind.

  “There’s enough to go around,” Leia laughed as they unwrapped the packaging and began divvying up the cobbler amongst themselves. All their previous weariness seemed to have completely evaporated.

  As they chattered and ate, I tugged on Leia’s sleeve and nodded toward our bedroom door. “You know,” I said quietly so as to not be overheard, “our date doesn’t have to be over quite yet.”

  Her eyes sparkled. She glanced at the sprites and, seeing them engrossed in the cobbler, nodded eagerly. Leaning in, she whispered, “Lead the way.”

  I took Leia’s hand and led her to the bedroom. The sprites’ voices faded away as we closed the door behind us.