“I just think you need to give her a chance,” Rosie said gently, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind my ear. “She is a good person. Which is amazing because she’s so hot, she could totally be an asshole if she really wanted to be.” We both chuckled. “Maybe she thinks you have a different kind of magic,” she offered.
“Yes, the kind that is almost as stubborn as me, impossible to use, and dries up at the slightest hint of emotional turmoil?”
“That’s the one!” Rosie grinned. “Just try, Clara. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Just try, Clara.
Maybe I would. For Rosie.
“I love you,” Rosie said softly.
“I love you, too.”
I hadn’t said those words aloud in too long.
A heavy feeling of hopelessness threatened to surround me—even with the sun shining and Rosie beside me. Because it was our last afternoon together, and all the unsaidI love yous would never fit into the time we had left. But at least I said them now, at least she knew the truth.
“Not to ruin this sweet moment, but you have plants growing around your ankles and it’s freaking me out.”
Sure enough, intertwining all around me were tiny vines, vibrant blooms bursting into life the farther they crept up my legs.
Thornless roses.
Just like how I felt with Rosie: all blooms, no bite.
“Rosie, come with me.”
We ran, hand in hand, all the way back to the cottage. I did not rush, though; I knew it would work. The plan wouldn’t fail after all. There washope.
I didn’t even try to punch Hesper as I ran past her reading in my kitchen chair. My anger didn’t flare when she followed us and clambered up the ladder into my bedroom.
Rosie and I smooshed onto my bed together, the seed packet in between us. Hesper stood sentinel by the attic floor’s opening, her face inscrutable. I held Rosie’s hand as I sang the seeds to life, willing quick, steady growth, abundant life, and protection from decay. The magic flowed easily with Rosie there, the chasm in my chest filling up with a gentle hum that reminded me of Sylvie’s bees that first day I arrived here in Moss.
“Did it work?” Rosie asked, trying to hide the worry in her voice. Nothing spectacular happened to the seeds, no special glowing aura surrounded them to let us know the magic was successful. But I knew deep within myself that it had, indeed,worked. The seeds were ready. As long as I got them to Dwindle safely and into the earth, I had hope.
“It did,” Hesper answered for me.
“How do you know?” Rosie and I asked in unison.
“Because I smell sunshine.” She grinned widely, elation filling her eyes. Without another word, she climbed down the ladder to leave Rosie and me alone.
“Okay, what the hells does that mean?” Rosie asked, her eyebrows knitting together. “Does Hesper have a super smeller or something?”
“Not quite.” I giggled. “She can smell magic apparently. How? I still have yet to find out. Is there such a thing as scent magic, where a person can smell anything and everything?”
“I can’t imagine that exists, but you never know. I wonder what magic smells like sunshine,” Rosie mused.
“Moss’s,” I said simply. It only made sense that a town so full of light and love would smell like the sun.
“Perhaps,” Rosie said. “Or perhaps,yousmell like sunshine. That’s what I think.”
I had no interest in arguing with her.
Tomorrow would bring change. So tonight, I wanted to spend it how we usually did: talking about nothing at all, sipping on tea, and feeling utterly, perfectly happy.
She wanted to believe that she would come back, but every step took her farther away from the place she first bloomed.
—opening line attempt 47
