He doesn’t need to answer; his fascination is clear. It’s as if he’s trying to memorize the smallest details, examining them from every angle, but he doesn’t touch. Veda follows his lead, naming the flowers for him. “Each one was planted to bring in bees to help with pollination.”
Antaris turns, listening.
“Have you seen bees?”
His confirmation is still stilted, but she takes whatever she can get. Emboldened, she steers him to where her tools remain, but there’s only one pair of gloves. Veda turns to find Antaris waiting for her next move.
It’s one neither of them expects. She kneels before him, startling him back a step, and beckons him closer. “Gloves will protect your hands while we’re planting. They’re too big for you, but something is better than nothing.”
The standoff doesn’t last as long as she expects. Antaris takes one cautious step closer, then another, before finally holding out his hands.
“Next time, I’ll have a pair that fits you.”
Antaris’s expression doesn’t change, but with one oversized glove on, he points at her hand.
“Don’t worry, my hands are rough. They can take it.”
Apparently that isn’t it. He steps closer, eyes on her arm, head tilted. She doesn’t realize why until she notices the scars from her curse peeking out from under her sleeve. She quickly adjusts it. “It’s from a while ago. An accident.”
He frowns.
“I’m okay,” she lies gently, slipping on the second glove for him. He won’t be able to grip much, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Veda leads him to a half-dug hole and drops to her knees in the dirt. Antaris stands beside her, watching intently. She picks up the hand shovel and digs into the soft earth. “Do you want to plant this one?”
He nods.
Veda gestures for him to kneel like her. He does, nearly stumbling. Embarrassed, he settles and looks to her, waiting. She almost asks if he’s okay but decides against it. Loosening the soil, she pulls a lavender plant from its plastic pot and hands it over. “Right here.”
Antaris works with care, gently filling the hole with the surrounding dirt. They move to the next spot, and Veda grabs another baby lavender plant, starting to dig a new hole.
“Sometimes, when I feel nervous or scared, when everything feels too heavy, I come here. Watching things grow and change makes me feel better. Stronger. Planting, watering, and harvesting remind me that, no matter what, everything will be fine.”
Antaris listens, rapt.
“I’m out here more than I like to admit.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Cosmos, I’m unloading on a six-year-old.”
But he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s quietly taking it all in.
“You understand how I feel, don’t you?”
He taps the dirt twice.
“How about this? I’ll show you everything my mom taught me about gardening, and this place can be your reminder, too. Would you like that?”
He nods.
She looks around. “First, a bountiful garden needs planning. Everything works in harmony with nature, even if we don’t always see it.”
There’s more she could say, but emotions, too complicated to digest, make it hard. Abandoning the hand shovel, Veda digs into the earth. She usually wears gloves and can’t remember the last time she felt the soil between her fingers. Then another hand joins hers.
Antaris has removed the gloves, choosing to feel the cool soil, too. She hands him another lavender plant, and together they nestle it in the ground, then move to the next. This time, Veda slows him down, letting him focus on his hands.
When they finish, Veda offers a dirt-covered finger. “Better?”
He taps it twice.
Soil is the foundation of everything. Where life starts and returns. As Antaris stands among their work, gazing in awe, Veda wonders whether this garden might be a place wherehecan begin anew.
Veda allows herself to miss her parents the next afternoon when she’s alone.
