Everything was in disarray, upturned. The soil was dry and cracked. The grass under my boots crunched for lack of water, for lack of love. The footstones leading to the cottage were loose and broken. Gardening tools were scattered everywhere, most of them rusted. But everything here wasalive.
Oddly, my senses tingled in the same way they did in Moss when I felt a harvest coming on. My heart always knewexactly what seeds would arise with a bit of magic, even when the garden was not my own.
Radishes, carrots, squash, strawberries, pumpkins, and even some nestleberries, my heart whispered as I meandered through the scraggly garden of this broken cottage.
Impossible, I told my heart. Old habits must die hard: my heart saw a garden and remembered how it used to feel.
Angus and Hesper both waited at the bottom of the hill, looking up at me from the garden gate. Edge and Warty both gazed down at me from their place on the mossy roof.
I put my hands squarely on my hips, surveying the bleeding, misused earth around me, and said, “Let’s get to work.”
And despite all that had happened between us, Hesper smiled up at me. Pride and approval intermingled with that same something else that both terrified and thrilled me.
Angus had tears streaming down his face that he didn’t bother to wipe away.
“It’s good to see someone back here again,” he called up, his voice cracking on each word. “It’s been a very long time.”
An old twang sounded in my heart, deep and all-encompassing. We had work to do.
Canonically, the easiest way to get over the person you slept with is to move into a dream cottage with them for at least three to four business weeks.
—opening line attempt 112
Grow a garden.
Just try, Clara.
Make it fun. Make it joyful.
Those were the words I would choose to dwell on. Maybe tomorrow would be harder, but today, they rang true. Besides, nothing set up a better relationship with a group of people than having amomentin the midst of their town’s square. The old Clara would be absolutely mortified by that show of emotion. But the Clara that traveled all the way from Moss, almost exited this mortal coil via a demon dog monster, and had inadvisable relations in a wagon wasn’t too undone.
“Angus.” I strolled down the pathway, all business. “I need some tools.”
“Yes, of course, of course! I’ll go get Murt and a few others, really anyone who can help us. Oh! And I do wonder ifCharles the Blacksmith might have any insight on sharpening my dull scissors. Can scissors be useful in gardening? Cut off dead leaves and things?”
Angus didn’t await my reply; instead, he kept talking as he walked away. “Yes, to Charles I’ll go, pop in on the shoppe, yes that’s the best course of action…” He was chattering on, but he was paces away now, and Hesper and I both strained to hear him. Eventually, we gave up as his voice faded out. Hesper and I were left in silence.
She looked at me, pride still in her eyes but apprehensiveness now lurking there, too.
I wanted to reach out to her, to apologize, to try to explain that it wasn’t that I didn’t want her, I just had to keep myself safe. Because at the end of this, she would return to her life before this, before me. There was no use in risking either of our hearts.
But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I just stood in front of her, picking at the threads of my new cloak, not even looking her in the face.
“You all right, princess?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the garden gate. Could she just stay there, leaning, all her life? I thought I might like that.
This is going to be a very long month.
“Never been better.” My smile met hers, and I tried to ignore the fire in my heart reaching out for her. “And don’t call me a princess,” I said with all the ire I could muster. Admittedly less than before.
“Don’t look like one then.” And with a cocky saunter, she strode right past me and into the gardens. The smell of lemons washed over me; I closed my eyes, inhaling the air around her.I let myself unlace just for a moment—relishing the pure joy of her nearness, her scent. But then, it was back to business. Unlacing would not get us any closer to filling up the market stands with as much as I could manage.
“I’m going to search the cottage, all right?” she called out, opening the creaking yellow door.
“Yes, all right,” I said stiffly, aching for her.
Build a wall. Any wall.I grappled for the fortresses I’d so keenly built around my heart, but all I could find was rubble. Thorns would have to do then.
As I watched her turn back to give me a playful smile before heading into the cottage we would share for the next month, I knew in my very bones that growing a garden in Dwindle might be the least of my worries.
