//------------------------------// // Chapter 11: Canterlot, 1995 (Pear Butter) // Story: The Perfect Pear // by The Blue EM2 //------------------------------// “Yer what?” Pear could see that Bright wasn’t entirely sure how to react to the news he had just received. It had been almost a year since the wedding, and he still hadn’t heard back from his mother, although he had been writing to her once a month ever since March. They had also had to find somewhere to live. Given the fact they were no longer co-workers, nor friends, but man and wife, remaining at Pearville was no longer an option. Luckily, Grand Pear had covered that for them. A farm to the north of the town had recently come up for sale, and Grand Pear had jumped in to purchase the farm from its former owners. He had then set to work on renovating the place, with his men and himself getting the place fully repaired and rebuilt, complete with farmhouse, pig shed, a barn, and several apple trees. In honour of the orchards there, the place had been renamed Sweet Apple Acres. That first harvest of apples, combined with a glorious Wassail, had seen the entire town turn out to help recover the bumper crop. The first Christmas they had spent together was truly magical, with Grand Pear being around to help out as need be. But renovating the place hadn’t been cheap. There had been repairs to do, air conditioning modules to install, entire electrical systems to rewire, a satellite receiver (though why Grand had suggested fitting one Pear had no idea), and even internal telephones. Why they needed that he had no idea. They had also had to source plates and service*, or else things could be a little problematic. Especially when extra mouths had to be fed. Which brings us onto the news that Pear had received today. She hadn’t been feeling great the last few days, so she’d gone to the doctors to try and figure out what was wrong. It was not the bombshell she’d wanted, but life had a habit of throwing curveballs her way, and this was just the newest one. “Ah’m pregnant, Mac,” she repeated. “Yer gonna be a father!” Mac blinked. “This can’t be true,” he replied. “Ah must be dreamin’.” Pear grinned. “Well, yer not,” she deadpanned. “How will we raise them?” he said. “We’ve got enough goin’ on with these repairs, Ah don’t know if we can afford another mouth ta feed!” “We’ll find a way,” Pear answered. “But we’ve got somethin’ more important ta consider.” “What is that?” Mac asked. “Cause the state of our finances is pretty important.” Pear took his hand. “What’ll we call them?” Mac’s face shifted to an expression of intense concentration. “Well, we have no way of knowing the gender, so we can’t decide too far in advance.” “Yeah,” Pear grinned. “Grandpa had an embarrasin’ incident with that.” Mac nodded. “Ah recall ya told me. He thought the child was a girl, but it actually were a boy.” Pear spoke up again. “How about ya name the first one, and Ah name the second one?” Mac looked surprised. “But what if we don’t ever have any more than one?” “That’s a risk Ah’m willin’ ta take,” Pear replied. “OK,” Mac replied. “First one it is, then ya get the second one.” And so it was, after several months, on the 15th of October 1995, that Bright Mac and Pear Butter welcomed their first child into the world. Admittedly, Pear spent it in varying states of consciousness (mostly out cold), she regained consciousness just in time to see the doctor hand the baby to her. “What is it?” she asked. “It’s a boy,” the doctor replied. Mac leaned in to look at the child. From what little he could see, due to it being wrapped up, the child had peach skin and a vague semblance of orange hair. “He has yer hair,” he remarked to Pear. “And yer freckles,” she answered. “So, what ya wanna call him?” Mac thought for a moment. “He’s half-Apple and half-Pear, not ta mention half-Californian and half-West Virginian. This may seem a tad ironic at the moment, but how about ‘Big Mac’?” There was a momentary snort. Then came Pear’s reply. “Eeyup.” So, the form was filled out, but Mac had to do something important, and took out his phone, punching in the very same number he had tried to call for the last few months that had never answered. “Who is this?” asked the voice of Mrs Smith. “Hi Ma,” Mac replied. “If yer gonna call ta beg fer ya forgiveness, then ya-” “Yer a grandmother.” “What?” “That’s right. Ah have a son. And he is the spittin’ image of his Grandpa.” There was a momentary silence. Then the voice spoke again. "Well, his Grandpa, Ah’m afraid, has gone and joined the heavenly chorus. But Ah can speak on his behalf.” There was a brief sniff, and then a sobbing sound. "Bright, Ah’m so sorry fer how Ah treated ya and Pear!” Mac paused for a moment. “It’s OK Ma, Ah forgive ya.” “Ah’m gonna move outta Cass and come down ta where ya are, as ya clearly need all the help ya need down there in Canterlot. Cass ain’t got no appeal for me no more.” The call ended, and Mac was, overall, happy. As it seemed the greatest gift of them all, his son, had healed the rift that had emerged between the two families, and brought them back together.