“Well, that’s how all love works,” August says. “You can’t love anyone without the fear of losing them, without the forethought of grief. There is an inherent loss in love, but that does not mean that love is not worth it.”
“That’s beautiful,” Marigold says. August’s words remindher of her grandmother, and how much she misses her. But it hurts more to imagine a world in which her grandmother did not come to her at the end of her life. They made so many memories together in such a short time—some silly, some beautiful, some heartbreaking.
Althea’s passing was peaceful, but Marigold’s grief was not. It never is. It is a mistake to think of grief as an absence. It’s more of a dark, shadowy thing that sits in constant periphery, always there, always stealing air and making it hard to breathe. It’s a demon that she has fought every single day, but it will not leave. Every time she encounters something that she would have once shared with her grandmother—a new recipe, a good book, a bad dream—she sees the face of that grief instead.
But August is right. Even if she knew the pain that would come after Althea’s passing, she still would have gone to Innisfree. It was worth it, all of it. Her grief isn’t going anywhere, but maybe she can make friends with it. Maybe there are good memories hiding behind it.
Lottie sits awkwardly, uncomfortably, and constantly pulls at her dress, yanking the sleeves around her wrists and the collar up to her chin.
“Well, I am quite full and exhausted,” Lottie finally says. “I’ll leave you both for the evening and head to bed. See you in the morning,” she says through a yawn as she stands and walks lightly down the hall. When Lottie gets to the door, Marigold calls her name, though she is unsure why. Perhaps it is because she has yet to see Lottie from that angle, peering back over her shoulder. The pause between her name and Marigold’s next words is far too long.
“I wanted to say thanks for today. For helping me with the burn.”
She nods stoically in response as she turns away.
“Hey, what about me? Don’t I get a good night?” August yells from his place in the kitchen.
“Sure, sure, good night, you big baby,” Lottie scolds from behind her door. August laughs and looks at Marigold, who iseyeing him with suspicion. She leans forward to ensure that Lottie’s door is closed and whispers, “August, I wanted to ask you something. I don’t mean to overstep, so please feel free to leave this unanswered, but I was wondering… Are you only interested in men?”
August laughs. “I don’t have any preference when it comes to gender. I love whom I love, without question, and sometimes without logic.”
She smiles, having a deep understanding of what he is describing. “So… you and Lottie… have you ever been involved?”
“You and everyone else always wonder about what we are to each other. Lottie is only attracted to women, and our relationship is a little hard to explain.”
Marigold starts cleaning up the kitchen, wiping the counter as she says, “As a girl who one day learned that she has magical powers and the ability to communicate with bees, I think I can keep up with ‘hard to explain.’ Try me.”
“Fair enough,” August says after a laugh. “I’ll let her tell you the story of her life, if she ever decides to open up about it. We do love each other a great deal, always have, always will. But it was clear from the beginning that we were meant to be more like siblings and the truest kind of friends. The ones who never leave,” he says.
The ones who never leave.What she would give to be part of such eternity.
“That’s beautiful. Friendship is the greatest gift one can give,” she says.
“Indeed,” August says as he walks over to her side and leans onto the counter, smiling with suspicion. “Why do you ask? Are you interested in her?”
She scoffs dramatically and starts cleaning her mugs. “Shehatesme.”
He catches her wrist. “That didn’t answer my question.”
“Of course I’m not interested in her.” She pulls her arm back. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
He shrugs, feigning innocence. “I guess my words fall out sometimes and I cannot control it. That’s another trait of mine that only Lottie forgives. I never know when to stop talking.”
“It’s fine,” she says. She tries to put the mugs on the top shelf—that damn top shelf—and he notices her struggling. He comes to her side and takes the mugs from her, smirking as he effortlessly puts them away.
“But Lottie is not courting anyone, in case you are wondering.”
“Well, I wasn’t wondering about her at all,” she lies as she blows out every candle except for one, which she picks up to lead them to their rooms.
“I must say,” she continues, “your courage to fall in love even after loss is admirable. I am not entirely sure that love is worth the risk of heartbreak.”
He smiles, stretching. They walk down the hallway and reach their respective doors, now diagonal from each other.
“Marigold,” August says before going inside. “Love is worth the risk.”
Marigold lies awake in her bed, restless. An hour after lying down, Cindershine runs through her open window with Chesha. The two of them pounce onto her, though Cindershine is the only one with any weight. Marigold opens her eyes when Chesha’s aura brightens the room beyond even the light of morning. A magical aurora radiates from her, painting the walls and the ceiling with starlight and streaks of green, blue, and lavender. If she squints, she can see wisps of vivid red that match the color of Lottie’s hair. Chesha jumps off the bed and dashes to the door, pawing at it to open.
“What’s going on, Chesha?”
