The Secret Bliss of Calliope Ipswich by Marcia Lynn McClure Page A

everything.”
    Shay nodded with emphatic agreement and delight and hurried off in search of the things she needed to gather.
    Calliope sighed with a feeling of mingled discontent and contentment. She so enjoyed playing with Shay. Furthermore, she knew that one way or the other, the moments with Shay would lessen, or at least slowly grow into something else. Shay would, after all, eventually stop playing ponies in the meadow, just the way Calliope had. Her pretended tea parties with Molly would give way to real tea parties with friends, or even sewing circles with the ladies of the town. This thought caused discontent in Calliope—a sadness that things would change. After all, things had changed when Amoretta married Brake and moved to Langtree. Things had changed when Calliope’s father had married Kizzy and brought Shay into their lives along with her. But those were good changes, whereas the idea of Shay grown up and no longer a little girl distressed Calliope.
    Simultaneously , however, Rowdy Gates had championed her in town that day. Calliope knew that Rowdy probably had no intention of docking Fox’s or Tate’s pay if they were a bit tardy getting back to the mill. He’d just somehow sensed Calliope’s distress, or the impropriety of Fox and Tate taking hold of her the way they each had, and he’d diminished the situation instantly and without incident—and Calliope was much more flattered by the fact Rowdy had intervened on her behalf than with Tate and Fox pulling at her like taffy. The knowledge offered her quite a measure of contentment.
    Thus, Calliope headed out to the grassy expanse behind the Ipswich home in search of butter cookies and raspberries with conflicting emotions jostling around in her mind and heart. Yet she smiled when she saw that, indeed, the space behind the house was simply speckled with buttercups and red poppies.
    “Butter cookies and raspberries,” Calliope giggled to herself as she began to gather the colorful blooms to use as treats at Shay’s pretended tea party. She smiled as she held a buttercup to her nose , dusting off the pollen afterward. Her own mother had taught her to use different flowers to represent different sorts of foodstuffs when playing tea party—when she was just a bit younger than Shay was now. It was one of the most vivid memories Calliope owned of her mother, and it always made her a little melancholy to think on it.
    When Calliope arrived at the back porch, she was delighted when she saw that Shay had already set up her tea set on the little round table their father had made for Shay at Christmas. Using round, short pieces of wood from the woodpile that hadn’t been split yet as seats, Shay had set three places at the little table. Molly the marmalade was already positioned on her wood seat. As usual, Molly looked dreary -eyed but patient.
    “Here’s a plate for the butter cookies,” Shay said, pointing to a small plate in the center of the table. “And a little bowl for the raspberries,” she added, placing a small bowl next to the plate.
    “I see you’ve already made the cucumber canapés,” Calliope noted as she studied the green lilac tree leaves Shay had collected and set on another small plate on the table.
    “Yes ,” Shay confirmed. “They took almost all afternoon to put together!”
    “Oh dear,” Calliope sighed. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble to have me to tea today.”
    “Not at all, my dear,” Shay said, pretending to be grown up.
    Quickly, Calliope placed the buttercups on the small plate meant for butter cookies and then carefully removed the petals from several poppies and put them in the raspberry bowl.
    “Oh , thank you for contributing to our eats today, Miss Ipswich,” Shay said as she sat down on her wooden seat and began to pour water from her tiny teapot into the tiny teacup set at the seat meant for Calliope.
    “Oh , thank you for allowing me to, Miss Ipswich,” Calliope graciously returned, taking her own