where all the poets went to die [dead poets society]

12 - a tale of reckless actions

"Uncle John," Maria squirmed uncomfortably, interrupting him. "Please don't have this conversation with me right now. Aunt Alyssa already did, I swear to you. I know all about it."

Keating revelled in his niece's uncomfortableness for a moment. It was sort of fun. "All right, all right," he chuckled. "Though I must tell you, your father swore the day you were born that he'd make any boy who vies for you jump through hoops, through leaps and bounds before they were allowed to date his precious daughter."

Maria smiled at the thought, feeling a pang of sadness. It was a shame he was no longer around to see her grow up and experience these sorts of awkward - but also very sweet - moments with her.

Keating seemed to sense her change in mood and gave her shoulder another comforting squeeze. "I do feel it necessary to live up to your father's promises or fear that he'll haunt me in my sleep," he paused and made a face, happy when it drew a giggle from Maria, "but, if it counts for anything, I do approve of Mr. Dalton. He's a little reckless, a little impulsive, but I do think he's a good sort of boy."

Maria looked up in surprise at that. "Thank you, Uncle John," she said, giving him a small smile, but then remembered she was supposed to be acting like she didn't like Charlie. "Not that it means anything because I definitely do not like Charlie Dalton."

Keating rolled his eyes at that and pulled her back into a tight hug. "Of course, my dear," he said, holding her close. "I just want to see you happy and thriving just as you are - always. And if it means having a 'not-crush' on Charlie Dalton, then so be it."

Keating pulled back from the hug and turned around to grab the tin of butter cookies Maria had been attempting to swipe before he entered the room. He opened it and grabbed a few, munching on them thoughtfully. "You know, these cookies were always your father's favourite too," he said, looking down at the tin. "He used to hide them in his sock drawer, thinking your mother wouldn't find them there."

Maria laughed, feeling a warm glow in her chest. She loved hearing stories about her parents, especially from her uncle, who always seemed to have a new anecdote to share.

"Did she find them?" She asked, grinning.

"Oh, she found them all right," Keating said, chucking fondly. "Your mother - Margie - had a nose for sweets. But your father was always a bit of a rebel. He never gave up on his butter cookies, no matter how many times he got caught."

Maria smiled, feeling a little more at ease, a little lighter now. She grabbed one of the cookies from the tin and took a bite, relishing in the buttery flavour.

Keating noticed and gave her a sly look. "Now, off you go, you butter cookie thief," he said, handing her the entire tin. "Take them with you and hide them well."

Maria grinned and tucked the tin under her arm. "Thanks, Uncle John," she said, giving him a quick hug before heading towards the door. "I'll see you later."

"Take care, my dear," Keating called after her, watching as she disappeared down the hall. He sighed, feeling a little wistful. It seemed like only yesterday that Maria had been a little girl, playing with her dolls and giggling at his silly jokes. Now she was growing up. Keating knew he couldn't protect her from everything, but he hoped that he could be there for her, guiding her through the ups and downs of life. And maybe sharing a few butter cookies along the way.

••●••

"'To live deep and suck out all the marrow of life. To put to rout all the was not life'." The group stopped when they heard the sound of female laughter outside.

"Oh, my God!" Cameron whisper-shouted, looking at the entrance of the cave with wide eyes.

"Is this it?" A female voice sounded.