“It’s not just that.” I hear myself say. My ears ring with the noise of their dispute.
“What is it, then?” Mother snaps.
I gather the fibers of my courage before they fly away. “Sometimes it feels like the only thing you care about is my nose. Like, you never ask me about how school is going. You didn’t even know I aced my Spanish test. Or that I fell on my face in Cardio the first day. It’s like you forget I’m a human being.”
Mother’s nose reddens and her face looks on the verge of crumpling. “Is that what you think, Mim?” Her small hands grip the edges of the shovel.
Aunt Bryony tries to take it from her. “I dug up the oca tubers yesterday.”
Mother won’t let go of the shovel, and the two wrestle with it. “How did you know I planted oca tubers here?”
“I smelled them, of course.”
“Smelledthem?”
My aunt flexes a thin eyebrow at me, and I hug myself tighter. “Aunt Bryony’s smell came back. It was the seawater. There is no jinx.” I almost tell her about the falling hearts, too, but decideshe’s had enough surprises for one day.
Mother’s grip on the shovel weakens. “I don’t believe it.”
“Fine, don’t.” Aunt Bryony gets to her feet, and her nostrils twitch. “But you might want to take care of that spurge weed growing in section D. It’s going to sprout soon.”
Mother also gets to her feet. She sniffs, then her mouth splits open. “How did you . . .” Her voice grows weak. “It can’t be.”
“I always told you our mother loved William.”
My skin tingles. “The groundskeeper?”
Aunt Bryony gives me a solemn nod. “He was your grandfather. They loved each other for fifteen years before our mother sent him away, and her nose was legendary.”
Mother snorts. “Then why would he leave?”
“Because even love witches have love problems.” She slips her hands into the pockets of her red traveling cloak. “Of course you wouldn’t understand that.”
Mother points the shovel at my aunt. “You sure waited a long time to tell me.”
“You would’ve known earlier if you’d read my letter.” Aunt Bryony’s earrings swing.
“I threw it away.”
“Why?”
“Some things can’t be fixed with pen and paper.” Mother’s voice is getting hoarse. “Anyway, something so important, why couldn’t you tell me in person? You have a Cloud Air card, too. At least, let your fingers do the walking.” She makes a phonewith her hand and holds it to her ear.
“I did call you afteryouthrew away my letter, but you never answered. And anyway, don’t take your anger out on poor Mimsy.”
“Mimosais none of your business.”
“I calledher,” I pipe up. “Aunt Bryony came to help me.”
Mother throws down her trowel and climbs to her feet. “I don’t believe this. Was she here to help when you were born?” Yanking off her scarf, she shakes the bundle at my aunt. “Imagine nursing a baby and weeding at the same time.” Back to me. “Did she watch you take your first smells? Nope. Send any birthday cards? Ha! It’s not like she forgot the address.”
“I didn’t know about Mimsy until I read the ‘Living Miracles’ article in theTimes.”
“She was five when they wrote that! What have you been doing for the last ten years?”
“Waiting for you to respond to my letter.” Aunt Bryony pulls the edges of her cloak more snugly around her. Two bright spots of pink appear on her cheeks. “Anyway, I already said I’m sorry. Now it’s your turn to apologize to Mimsy.”
“For what? And will you please stop calling her that?” She reties her scarf around her neck with exaggerated movements, but it comes undone again.
