Sour Apple

by adchild

Chapter 1

I have long since learned not to believe Idle stories. Heaven knows I grew up on them. For years as a filly I was terrorized by Family stories of great uncle Apple Seed being killed at Blue Lakes by trespassers. Or how Uncle Apple Seed escaped from trespassers running a gauntlet and his brother was captured and Uncle Apple Seed ransomed him for a barrel of whiskey.

Not to mention Granny Smith's stories about Jaybird reporting once a week to the almighty about our missdoings for which, somehow, we'd be punished. Jaybird reported only to Celestia, she said.

But for some reason I did believe the rumor told to me by my cousins Apple Fritter and Red June of how only weeks after my mother's burial, my father was courting another mare.

I believe it because my cousins were friends with the Dr. Top's daughter, Linky. And he'd been in attendance at my mother's death and was an acquaintance of my father.

They told me this mare is from Manefort. The town where my father visits frequently for business. They say she has a 73 year old mother who is the head of society there. That she herself wants to be called Dahlia, and that she hopes to lift our family to new standards of elegance.

Grandmother Bartlett. Who lives just up the hill from us here in Ponyville and is my own mother's ma, says it is an indecently short time after Ma's death for pa to go courting.

My cousin Apple Fritter says Pa sent his new lady a miniature of himself painted by Ponyville's own Prisma.

Dahlia Root is her full name. I made it my business to find out everything I could about her. She's no stranger to Ponyville. Two of her uncle's taught here at our Ponyville College.

She's going to bring her own family with her when she comes. I wonder how that will sit with Granny Smith.

Jaybird can tell Celestia all he wants about me. I already know that I don't like her.

It was in the air a long time, the silent courtship of Pa's. Auntie Apple Top, his sister, who ran the household since Ma died, warned us not to ask him about it. So we didn't. But we watch him closely at the dinner table to see if he was changing toward us.

For all we could see, he wasn't.

He still asked Big Mac if he'd been a good boy that day and ruffled his hair when he asked it. He still told my spoiled cousin Ginger how pretty she was. He still discussed social matters with Red June and Apple Fritter. And he still promised me a puppy if I was a good girl. He'd been promising me a puppy for ages. As long as he kept promising, I figured my hope for a puppy was still alive. Though I did wonder if a puppy would fit in with Dahlia's idea of a new standard of Elegance.

No, he wasn't changing towards us. He was still Pa, who loved us and wouldn't let anything come between us.

Sometime around Hearth's Warming, my father called us all into the living room after dinner and cleared up the rumors. I was 9 years old.

"My situation has become irksome," he said. "People of ill-will are saying bad things about me and my intended, Dahlia Root. So I have become engaged to this dear lady and hope soon to wed. I need to complete my domestic circle so I can enjoy the repose and happiness which the world can never give."

Pa talked high words sometimes. But we understood. Apple Fritter and Red June kissed him. I hugged him because I wasn't going to be left out of any part of his domestic circle.

That's how we learned we were going to get a stepmother. But I didn't see the need for one. As far as I was concerned, the domestic circle we had was complete enough. Granny Smith ran the kitchen along with the help of Big Mac and I. And I didn't see anything wrong with Auntie Apple Top running the house. She even did the male chores when Pa was away, oversaw The Farm, disciplining the kids, and bought the Staples. Only Bone I had to pick with her was that she favored my little sister Apple Bloom too much. Apple Bloom was the darling of her eye. I was almost ten the year Pa wed and Applebloom was going on two, and Applebloom took all the attention from me.

Red June and Apple Fritter have their own set of fine-feathered marefriends who can't talk about anything but dresses and stallions. Meadow, three years older than me, and Big Mac, only twelve at the time had the full attention and love of Pa. All I had was Granny Smith to stand up for me. And she was fifty two.

I have had a lot of afflictions in my life, don't think that getting a stepmother was the first of them. Now that I am an adult and about to attend my best friend's coronation. I can write of them without hurting too much.

Before I was three years old I lost my place as the youngest in the family to brother Red Delicious when he was born. When I was four I lost my baby brother. Red Delicious died at 14 months. I was uncommonly fond of Red and his death affected me terribly. Then when I was five my mother got pregnant with Applebloom and she died giving birth.

At almost ten I got a new stepmother.

-

We were to call her "Ma" Pa told us in one of the most stern moments I ever recollect seeing him in. Not Dahlia, but Ma.

We all said yes.

"And if you have any concerns about the whole household, bring them to her. She wants to be in charge."

Concerns about the household? I've had nothing but concerns since Auntie Apple Top had left us, as soon as Pa and Dahlia came home from their wedding trip.

Concerns about the household? That phrase went through my mind as I stood in the kitchen and watched, transfixed, as Marigold, one of Dahlia's neices, stood grim-faced, her two hooves holding a large bowl of soup. I could smell the soup from where I stood. I loved that soup, all made with preserves from our garden.

Across the kitchen stood Granny Smith, who had made the soup. She'd caught Marigold sampling it from the serving Bowl and scolded to her.

"Here, take your old soup," Marigold said and threw the bowl on the floor.

The smash of the china bowl sounded throughout the house. The soup was splashed all over the place. I even got some on my coat. Granny Smith backed away, held her hooves to her face, and cried.

"Who wants your old soup?" Marigold stamped out of the kitchen.

Just then Pa appeared in the kitchen doorway. "What is this? What's going on here?"

"Marigold threw soup on the floor," I told him.

He looked shocked. I felt sorry for him. So much for repose and happiness, I thought. And as if he could read my thoughts, he looked at me. "AJ, go and get your mother," he said quietly. Then he turned and went out the back door.

For a moment I thought that he really meant my mother. The look on his face was so confused that for all I knew he could have been wanting her then, just like I was. But I ran upstairs to get Dahlia.

She was seated at her dressing table, making up her mane. "What's all the noise?" she asked.

I just stood there like a jackass in the rain. "Ma," my voice cracked when I said it. "Granny and Marigold are fighting. There won't be any soup for supper."

"And why is that?"

"Marigold threw it on the floor."

"Well, she must have had provocation."

So that was the way it was to be. Her family could do no wrong. "Pa needs you," I said.

She stood up. "Is there no order in this house?"

I shrugged. "Marigold threw the soup when Granny found her eating out of the serving Bowl."

"There must be more to it than that."

'New standards of Elegance', I thought.

"And you don't have to look so pained when you call me Ma either. Now say it again. And say it strong."

I swallowed. "Ma," I said.

"Again."

Tears came to my eyes. "Ma."

She swept passed me. "I hope I don't have to speak to your father about you. Now go and tell the others to come to the dinner table."

Comments

[ExplosionMare]

Poor AppleJack