Mom places the braid of flowers on Grandma’s grave. “She did what she did because she had no choice. Or rather, because her choice was the only real one she had. She killed him, not out of hate, but out of fear. Out of love.”
Taylor’s inhale is sharp. My hand goes to my mouth. It’s impossible to imagine my dear, sweet grandma Hazel who captured spiders and set them free in her garden ever harming anyone, let alone her husband.
“That’s about how I reacted at first,” Mom says. “She wanted me to know the truth because there was a point when she loved him. Trusted him. And in a split second, it all changed. She warned me against loving your father, warned me there weremore important things.” She pauses, collecting herself. “In the end, she was right in more ways than she could’ve known. But I’ll never get to tell her that.”
She ducks her head, and I rub her back, wanting nothing more than to comfort her. “I left here thinking she was a monster. I couldn’t see then what I see now. She made an impossible choice…and in doing so, she savedyou, Corinne. Andyou, Taylor. And your children, someday. That’s the legacy of Foxglove. That’s the legacy of Wilde women. We protect the ones who come after us. Even when it costs us everything. Even when we’ll never see what comes next.”
Mom squeezes my hand, then Taylor’s. I don’t know what to say or how to move on from this. All I know is that if Grandma had ever asked for, or needed, my forgiveness for making an impossible choice, she’d have had it.
Shedoeshave it.
Whatever decision she made, I believe it was the right one. I’m sitting here with the proof that it was.
The sun hangs low in the sky, like a shimmering coin resting on the edge of the earth, ready to disappear.
“I wasted so many years being angry at her. Afraid of what it meant. Of what it made her. I took you from her, and her from you.”
“That’s not true?—”
“You had the occasional weekend and your earliest summers together, yes, but you were meant to grow up here. At Foxglove. You were meant to have known your grandmother and this place in ways you never got the chance. The three of us should have so many memories together. Here. But I couldn’t…I couldn’t stay. Even when I wanted to. Even when I brought you, dropped you off. I couldn’t bring myself to stay with you. I can never fix that. Never make it right. But…” She releases our hands again and picks up an oak leaf, running her fingers gently along the edges.“I know what I can do. I know what she would want. What she always wanted.”
She places the leaf down on Grandma’s grave. “This place…Foxglove…it’s meant for us. It’s watched us bleed and grow and grieve and survive. This land is woven with our choices. Every tree, every flower, every stone carries the bones of women who fought for the ones they loved. Who fought to give us this moment right here.”
She looks at me then, her eyes shining. “I don’t want to waste any more time. Not with you two. Not now that I understand our legacy. Not now that I understand her.”
I wait, watching as she says so much with her eyes and no words. As we have a silent conversation, as words are passed between us with only glances and tears. “I want us to stay here—together. The three of us. I want you both to know the strength you come from. Not some fairytale strength, but the real kind. The kind that walks into fire if it means the next girl won’t have to.”
Silence stretches between as soft and gentle as the ribbons of flowers Grandma used to tie in my hair.
“The three of us?” I ask, watching her.
Mom nods. “You understand.”
“What will that mean?”
“He can’t stay here.” Again, she reads me like a book. Understands the question I’m not asking. The one I’m not brave enough to ask. In truth, I don’t know if I want Lewis to stay, or if that’s even on the table for him. I don’t know where we stand. But I don’t like being told it’s impossible, either.
“Foxglove is ours, Corinne. And I don’t say that to be cruel. My mother was right, and someday, when you’re older…you’ll know that I’m right, too. It’s not about exclusion. It’s about protection. Foxglove isn’t just yours, it belongs to futuregenerations of Wilde women, and it is your duty to protect it for them. To guard its secrets for them.”
“But surely you don’t think Lewis would ever try to take this place.” Even as I argue, my mind drifts back to that night, how I kept the secrets of the tunnels from him. Of Foxglove’s worth.
“Foxglove doesn’t know how to hold a man without turning him into something else entirely—even the best ones. It’s our legacy. Our blessing, and our curse. This place was made by women, for women.” She meets my gaze, eyes soft but steady. “What I’m doing now is for Lewis’s protection, too. Foxglove protects its secrets, with or without our help. If you love him, you’ll listen to me.”
I look away, blinking hard as Taylor moves to sit by me and leans her head against my arm.
“I know this is a lot,” Mom says, watching us as her voice takes on a new tenderness. “And no matter what you choose—to stay or to go—you know I will love you. Always. But if you choose to stay, I’ll teach you everything my mother taught me about this place. Even more than you can imagine or might remember. And someday, you’ll tell your daughter.” Her eyes shift to Taylor, then to me. “And your granddaughter.”
Mom pushes up on her knees, kneeling in front of me like she did when I was a child, heartbroken over shattered toys and scraped knees. Her hands are rough and familiar as she takes mine. “I know you probably think I’m being dramatic, but I always kind of thought you understood this place. Maybe better than I do. You’re like your grandmother in that way. It meant a lot to you, even when you were young. You believed in it. You still do.”
“Inher,” I correct, though I’m not sure whether I mean Grandma or Foxglove. “I believe in her.”
A gentle warmth spreads across her face, and for the first time, I realize just how much she resembles Grandma. “Thisplace is ours. Our sorrow, our strength, our legacy. Our home. The Wilde women have always endured. And now…I don’t want to just endure. I want tolive.Here, with you. I want to laugh here. Cry here. Heal here. Teach here. Learn here.”
“I promised Grandma I’d come home someday.” Heat blooms under my skin as my fingers trace the soft grass over her grave again. I swear I can feel her here—hear her voice on the wind, feel her touch in the breeze that blows through my hair. “But our custody agreement makes that complicated. Taylor has school. Lewis would never understand?—”
“So make him.” Mom’s eyes dart between mine. “I want you to remember who you are, Corinne. Remember that you come from fire, flowers, and bone. You are Wilde. The storm and the shelter, in equal measure. Just like your grandmother, and hers. There is a long line of women who came before us who want you here, who have done everything—sacrificed everything—to make sure this place stayed standing for us. Because even in the darkest parts of our history, love has always been the root.”
Her words hit me square in the chest, and no one speaks for a long time. The ground underneath me seems to hum, like it hasn’t since I was a little kid. A low, living sound. Familiar.
