“You know, this isn't the Ludlow Bubbly, but the Lee Ginger Tea Company could do some stuff too.”
That was ten-year-old Andrew's opinion of Col. H.F. Lee's brewed-on-the-grill ginger tea with cloves and cinnamon. That and some local honey, and all nine Ludlows and the two Lee cousins were very pleased with it.
“It's like I was talking to my brown bestie Gracie about why people drink alcohol and stuff,” seven-year-old Amanda said to her eight-year-sister Edwina. “Why would you do even do that when you can have this?”
“Everybody doesn't have our grandparents or our cousins,” Edwina said, “and then there aren't enough mirrors around so they don't know how unfashionable it is to be stumbling around drunk, and then if you try to tell them they get mad and swing bottles at you.”
“Really,” nine-year-old brother George said. “I thought my foster home was rough!”
“And it was,” Edwina said, “but y'all see how I can jump rope like I can. I am the best because bottles and stuff hurt. Don't even think about challenging me at dodgeball either.”
Capt. R.E. Ludlow, Edwina's grandfather and adoptive father, instantly turned red with rage at the memory of what his granddaughter had gone through. Her foster parents would be sitting in prison for decades on multiple counts of child abuse: the Ludlow grandfather had it all investigated and brought out on behalf of Edwina and all the children with her.
“Drink more tea, Robert; that's all done,” Mrs. Ludlow purred as she closed her hand over his immense clenched fist … and then saw the captain reach for and drain his tea cup.
“I do chamomile and Harry does ginger for the same reason,” he growled. “We pray a lot, too, and that's what lets people live after they have harmed one of ours.”
Meanwhile, George and Amanda embraced Edwina because they could see the tears in her eyes despite how calm her voice was.
“Alcohol is bad, but we're here and it's all good!” George said. “Have some more tea, Eddie, on me!”
He spilled half his tea refilling Edwina's cup, but she smiled and gave him a kiss and thanked him, and the moment passed.
“Wow, this tea is good,” six-year-old Grayson said to his 11-year-old sister Eleanor. “It even helps us when we feel sad!”
“Looks like it,” she said, “but when food is made with love it helps, and Cousin Harry loves us.”
“I'll say he does – he even left the honey out!” five-year-old Lil' Robert said as he finished stacking rocks to climb up to where it was, only to be grabbed by his colonel cousin.
“Engineering: brilliant,” Col. Lee said. “Bigmouthing: not so great, Robert. You gave your whole plan away.”
“Well, see, next year, I'm going to West Point like Papa, and then, I'm coming back to get this when I learn strategy and stuff!”
“I went to West Point too,” Col. Lee purred.
Lil' Robert, dangling in midair in the colonel's grip, was only deterred for a moment.
“Okay, fine – I'm going to whatever is west of West Point, and then I'm coming back here, because that honey is mine! You just wait, Cousin Harry! You'll see! You're all going to see!”
“You know, you could just ask,” the colonel said calmly. “It would save you time and travel, Robert.”
“Well, yeah,” Lil' Robert said, “Didn't think about that.”
“So now that you've thought about it, what would you like to do?”
“Permission to have more honey in my tea, Cousin Harry, sir!”
“Granted, Robert.”
And the colonel opened the honey and dipped the mini-spoon he had for just such requests into it, and spooned a bit more honey into the little boy's tea.
“See, what I was thinking was, it would be easier to pour the tea into the honey and shake it up to get it all just right,” Lil' Robert sized, “but this is actually just right – thanks!”
“You're welcome, Robert,” the colonel said, with a smile. “It's less messy this way, too.”