Apples to the Core

by Neon-Nights-Library

Chapter 3

A few months had passed since Big Mac and Sugar Belle's initial pregnancy announcement, however despite the allotted time, the bustle the family faced of prepping for a new foal had not calmed down. Big Mac, most of all was working tirelessly to ensure that all precautions were taken, and all plans were being made. Though his family assured him that they'd be there to help, no matter what, Big Mac still found himself worrying endlessly, day in and day out.

He'd even stopped his monthly hangouts with Spike and Discord, much to his friends' annoyance. Discord in particular had been exasperated by Big Mac's constant absences, even pointing out the incredibly long time that ponies were often pregnant for. Of course, though, Big Mac knew his friends wouldn't be happy with his decision. Mac wasn't entirely happy with his constant worry either, it was a surprisingly exhausting thing, to be worrying all the time. He wondered whether Princess Twilight felt this way often...

Regardless of his friends and family's worries, Big Mac pressed on, planning and prepping like a mad man. Truly, the amount he had planned for, as far as this foal was concerned, could've put any plan or schedule Twilight Sparkle had ever made to shame. That is why, on this particular day, just after Big Mac had finished reading through yet another parenting book- and was fussing about the house at all the details the book had pointed out about baby-proofing, Granny Smith decided to take matters into her own hooves.

The elderly mare knocked the book out of her grandson's hooves and looked him square in the eye. "Alright sonny,I've had enough a' yer nonsense. C'mon, we've got to find somethin' that'll cool yer mind off." The pale green mare examined the living room around them, her eyes settling on the nursery door just beyond. "There..." she said, grabbing her grandson's yolk and pulling him along as she walked. She was relieved when he didn't resist, and followed along with her. She wasn't afraid to give any youngin' what for, but she didn't have the strength she once did to pull it off.

"Yer wound tighter than a piggy's twirly tail! We need somethin' nice an' relaxin' for you to focus on." She heard Big Mac huff, but he still didn't resist. Granny let go of his yolk and pushed open the nursery door. Just as she had expected, the room was still very much in need of renovation. The small room wasn't in dis-repair, but it could sure use a fixer-up if a new baby would be staying in there soon. An idea snapped into Granny's head and she grinned, rubbing a hoof along her chin in deep thought. "Yes, I think that'll work nicely."

A few small boxes where piled in a corner, and the furniture in the room had been covered in white cloths, dust clinging to their surfaces. He guessed that the pale green curtain on the window also contained a lot of dust... so much more for him to do. Big Mac hated that he noticed these things to be done, but then he knew he only really trusted himself to get all of this work done. Granny suddenly turned to Big Mac, and pointed a hoof at the room. "Now, you get to work cleanin' this place up." She stated, beginning to walk away from the room, towards the other end of the house. "Imma go get some supplies. I want that room all clean when I get back." She called out, not bothering to look behind her as she trotted away.

Big Mac was still confused by her behavior, but chose not to worry about it for the time being. After grabbing a broom and dustpan from the kitchen, he began the work, deciding to enjoy the peace and quiet of cleaning the small room. He swept the floors clean, revealing the pretty dark wood that had been hidden under many years of dust. He gently gripped the curtain end in his teeth, and shook the cloth, watching the dust puff up into the air, and fall down onto the floor. He swept that up as well, and shook off the dust of the coverings on the furniture in the room. Nostalgia swept over him as he revealed more of the room, fond memories of his own time spent there, and his younger sisters when they were infants.

Big Mac lifted a single hoof up to the railing of the crib that sat in the corner of the room. Sturdy wood, painted and polished to perfection, and had been in the family for a few generations. He felt his heart swell with pride at the thought of it carrying on into the next generations, cradling and keeping safe the next line of Apples. Big Mac's trip down memory lane was cut short, however, when he heard a clattering of metal behind him. The stallion whirled around to see Granny in the doorway once more. The old mare had brought back two paint buckets, brushes, and drip cloth with her.

"Paintin's a nice little activity, It'll keep yer mind offa worryin'... for now at least." Big Mac wasn't entirely sure if the nursery needed a new coat of paint, but he wasn't about to disagree with Granny at this point. He really did need something to take his mind off of the worry and stress, if only for a moment. He drew back the curtains and opened the window, breathing in the cool fresh air. As Granny set out the drip-cloth along the baseboards, Mac moved the furniture out of the way, temporarily into the living room. Using the back claw of a hammer, Granny pried open the two cans of paint, and gently stirred the colors back into their original form.

She handed one bucket to Mac, and pushed her own over to an opposite corner of the room. Silently, the two ponies began their work, brushing on a calming pale-green onto the walls. The two didn't speak for some time as they worked, simply enjoying the ambiance of the sounds of nature from the window, and the gentle bristling of the brush on wood. Granny Smith suddenly chuckled to herself from the corner where she was working. Big Mac paid no mind to her noise, until she chuckled again, slightly louder this time.

"Did I ever tell you bout' the time your Pa put a hole- straight through the wall of the livin' room?" Big Mac's ears perked up at the mention of his father. Aside from the few memories he had of his parents, and the ones he'd been told outside the family, many of the stories of his father hadn't been told to him. "Nope..." Mac replied, hoping his mild answer would encourage Granny to share the story. "Well," she started, setting her brush along the rim of the bucket, and settling herself on the floor.

"He'd just gotten his cutie mark not a month before, an' he was sproutin' up like a weed. That boy was grown' faster than I could keep up with." Big Mac smiled at that remark, reminiscing on his own growth-spurt, that for him had practically happened overnight. "He was a hard worker, even that young, an' he always meant well, but my..." Granny let out a hearty chuckle. "That boy just didn't how his strength!"

"He'd learned to be careful with the farm equipment, after he'd nearly broken some of it, with those big hooves a' his." Granny snipped, remembering the cost it'd been to fix the farm equipment her son had nearly wasted. "Anyhow, he learned how ta' be nicer to the equipment, but apparently it didn't stick in his mind to be the same way to the house..."

Big Mac had set down his brush at this point, deciding to leave the first coat he'd done to dry, while he listened to his grandmother weave her tale. "It was a nice spring day, the apples were ripe, an' most of our family had come out to work at the orchard. But, I had ordered yer Pa to stay inside that day." Granny lifted a hoof to her chin as she recalled some of the finer details of that long-passed day. "He'd caught somethin' fierce an' could hardly stand up outta bed. Might've been the chicken flu... or maybe it was pig-pox...?"

Big Mac huffed a tiny, breathy laugh. It wasn't so much that he found his grandmother's confusion amusing, as it was that she tended to lose the plot when describing the needless details of a story. Still, it was a story, and one of his father. Those had been rare to come-by his entire childhood, and for most of his young-adult life. Now that the Apples and Pears were opening up about the past, he took every chance he could to listen to their stories, especially ones about Bright Macintosh.

"Well, whatever it was, he had it bad, an' I reckon it tore him up that he couldn't help out with the work. Never-mind we had plenty a' help anyway. He was given me so much trouble that mornin' I practically had to rope him to his bed, kept gettin' up every few minutes and fussin bout' the house." Granny grinned as she continued her story, the joy of remembering her son, even in a frustrating moment still making itself known.

"Now, I hadn't been there when he put the hole in the wall, one a' yer cousins had been in the livin' room at the time... can't for the life of me remember who though..." Granny squinted in frustration, trying to remember, and eventually giving up. "Well, yer father had apparently wandered out of his room again, and yer cousin was just about to get me when well..."

Granny let out a heartier chuckle, holding a hoof up to her chest as she laughed. Big Mac leaned forward from where he sat, now completely wrapped up in the narrative his grandmother was weaving. "Now, I can't say-" Granny started again, still laughing faintly to herself. "What in Equestria's name was goin' on through yer father's head, but I reckon he though he was already out workin' in the field."

"Cause next thing yer cousin knew," Granny continued, "Bright Mac had grabbed a basket that was layin' by the chairs, brought it to the far wall of the livin' room, leaned forward in front a' the wall-" Granny shook her head, a smile still present on her face. "An bucked his legs right through the livin' room wall. Before anyone knew it, I had a brand new window, right where a good sturdy wall used to be." Granny sighed to herself, and let her words linger for a moment. Her vibrant amber eyes shimmered as she remembered the cousin telling her the news, frantic and panicking, just as any pony would in that scenario.

"Well anyhow, yer cousin came an' got me of course." She stated, standing back up from her spot on the floor. Big Mac followed suit. "When I got back to the house, yer Pa was scoopin' up bit's a' drywall an' scooping it into the bucket, like he woulda done with fallen apples. I reckon his fever was so bad, he couldn't tell fruit from foundation!"

"Yer Pa wasn't in trouble, just yet. I had a doctor come over an' give him some good strong medicine. He was better not long after, an' helpin' me an' the family repairin' the wall too." Granny turned and stirred her can of paint again, picking her brush back up and starting on a new coat. "A' course we has apologizin' none stop, he felt more than bout' bought breakin' our home like that."

"But I figured, him learnin' how to repair a wall, build up the wood an' foundation again was enough to makeup for it. He was plum out of his mind when he broke it anyhow." A light gust of wind blew in from the open window, bringing with it the fresh sent of an autumn afternoon. The familiar sound of the brush grazing over the wooden wall, as the two ponies began their work again. "It was fine after that... I think that wall might even be stronger than the rest of the house now..." Granny concluded.

A few moments of silence passed as the two ponies worked again, simply enjoying the others company, and the work they put their hooves to. After a moment though, Big Mac spoke up, still lingering in the joy hearing a new story about his father had brought him. "It was nice... hearin' bout' him." He commented, setting his brush down on the rim of the bucket as he moved to another wall of the room.

"Maybe, sometime... while we're still gettin' ready, I can hear more stories like that?" He asked, hoping now that the years of openness from the family would encourage his grandmother to share more stories, from whoever or whenever. Granny smiled and nodded to her grandson, the silent confirmation was all he needed. Granny wiped a hoof across her forehead and looked about the room. Most of the walls had been painted, there were only a few more coats to do.

"Y'know," She said, walking over to Big Mac who was already beginning work on a new coat of paint. "I think we've done enough good work fer now." She patted his shoulder and grinned. "Why don't we grab some lunch, an' I can tell you some more bout' yer Pa." Big Mac smiled widely, setting the brush down, and closing the lids to the paint cans. He followed Granny out of the nursery, gently shutting the door behind them.

"I've got a lot like that one, an' more bout' yer father. Stories like it just come from bein' a parent." Granny commented as the two walked across the living room to the kitchen. "I'm sure you an' Sugar Belle will have yer own stories to tell someday." Granny sat herself down at the kitchen table, as Big Mac walked over to their cupboard and began prepping lunch. "At the very least, it's a good way to pass the time." The old mare proclaimed, more than happy that she'd lived a long enough life to raise her own child and grandchildren, and she hoped, more than anything, that she'd at least get to meet her great-grand foal.

"Eeyup." Big Mac agreed, spreading out bread, peanut butter and apple slices on the kitchen counter. His worry, to do the best, and prepare for the worst still remained... he wasn't entirely sure that those feelings would ever go away the closer he got to being a father. Regardless of those feelings though, he felt better now. He'd always known his family would be there for him, and he was sure that he could handle whatever came his way. That he, and Sugar Belle could do this... and, at the very least, they'd have some interesting stories to tell when all was said and done.