As I made my way up the ladder into my bedroom, dinner plate precariously balanced in one hand, Hesper came over and stood by the base.
“Can I help you?” I asked, not taking my eyes away from the attic entrance.
“I’m sorry that you have to leave your home. I understand why you love it here. We’ll get you back to Moss, I promise.” There was such earnestness in her voice, such conviction that we could survive—even succeed.
Tell her, a tiny voice in my heart said.Tell her.
Tell her this quest is doomed? That I have no magic? That Eldrene sent us on a fool’s errand across monster-infested woods for me to grow a garden that is impossible for me to grow?
I didn’t say anything. Instead, I scurried up the ladder and shut the attic opening.
This day had wrung me out completely. I had the seeds; I even had a new Town Gardener. Nevertheless, guilt muddledwith grief found its way to me at the thought of leaving Rosie behind, confused.
Hesper’s words, though, offered a sliver of comfort when I needed it the most.
As moonbeams flooded through my window and I remembered to blow out my candles, I threw down two pillows, extra quilts, and even a pair of cozy stockings for Hesper.
A peace offering. A thank-you.
Okay, MAYBE sharing your feelings is not the WORST thing that could happen to a person… MAYBE.
—opening line attempt 47
The tenuous peace that Hesper and I’d found that night shredded to pieces come morning. I had sequestered myself in the garden, minding my own business, having myself a proper panic that none of my seed songs were doing a lick of anything, when out strode Hesper. Healed, grinning, and ready to irk me.
“Singing your songs?” she asked, looming over me like an unwanted pest.
“Iwas,” I murmured.
“What are you trying to grow?”
“A few carrots that I let go to seed from the Goddess Celebration,” I replied curtly.
“Go on then.” She motioned to the empty bed.
“I don’t need an audience.” I glared at her.
“Well, you’ve got one.” She shrugged and proceeded to plop down beside the garden bed, making herself at home.
I tried to keep on, but her presence was distracting at best, deeply upsetting at worst. And it was always “worst” for me. Her attention only caused me to lose whatever slippery hold I had on the magic anyhow. I couldn’t shake the thought that sheknewsomething was off, and it corroded me to my core. I finally threw my hands up in the air and marched inside, holing myself in my room for the rest of the day.
That morning was a dalliance in the meadow compared to the ones that followed. The next, I went out to the garden bed, a renewed sense of hope. Then out she came, strutting in the morning light.
“More songs today?”
“Yes.”
“More attempts at growing?”
Attempts.I clenched my jaw, grinding down on my teeth. Letting my anger get the best of me would do nothing for growing. If I didn’t maintain balance, the magic would be impossible to harness.
“Yes, I will beattempting, as you say.” I squeezed my eyes shut, steadying my breath.
“Try something else,” she said simply, walking around each garden bed, inspecting them all closely.
“What?” I asked, incredulous.
“You always do the same thing. You sing, you strain. Why don’t you try something else?” she said it so easy, like her ask was nothing at all.
