“I…” How did she explain she’d been afraid? That wasn’t an excuse. She’d been cruel to leave Lotti like that, especially since she knew better—she knew how she’d felt waking alone and confused and cold in the forest. “I’m sorry.” The words felt insufficient.
“Humph,” Lotti said.
Yarrow pulled on his coat. “There’s something I should show you.”
“Me?” Terlu asked. She was surprised he still wanted to talk with her. He had to think the worst of her now. She was fully aware of how badly she’d messed up.
“Her,” Yarrow said with a nod toward the resurrection rose.
She felt herself blush.Of course he didn’t mean me.She thought of all the times when she’d waved at someone waving at her, only to realize they were waving at a person behind her—this felt the same, except magnified.He never wanted me here.She was a mistake.
Belatedly, he added, “You can come too. If Lotti is all right with that.”
The rose lifted her petals into the air. “You may come if you carry me. Gently.”
Feeling as small as a worm, Terlu scooped up the little plant and tucked her within her coat. She followed Yarrow out the door, back into the snow. It was closer to sunset now, with the low light causing the trees’ shadows to stretch out long on the white snow.
He led them into the greenhouse.
Lotti let out a little gasp. “It’s grown so much! Oh, Laiken, I wish you were here!” Her voice hitched in a sob.
Yarrow didn’t speak as he led them through the path. That seemed to be the way he was—not someone who was used to much chitchat. She wondered if that meant he was the kind of person who liked silence or who just liked other people to fill the silence.
Either way, she got the distinct sense that he didn’t like her very much.
Lotti was not overly fond of her either.
I’ve messed everything up.
How could she fix this? There was always a solution, unless one got oneself stuck as a statue, but even that wasn’t finite, as it turned out.I’ll find a way to make it up to them. Somehow.
Terlu was still trying to figure out what to do or say when Yarrow led them through a side door to yet another greenhouse that she hadn’t seen before. She wondered if there was a map to all the rooms somewhere, or maybe she could make one.
This greenhouse was smaller, with only a few plants. Just a handful of pots were on the shelves—a few were flowers, such as an orchidand a daisy. One was a small bush with clumps of thin leaves. Another was an ivy that swept from the top shelf to the floor.
“Oh!” Lotti said.
“What?” Terlu asked.
“I know this room. Yes. I know these shelves, these pots, this air.” She then screeched at the top of her lungs—if she’d had lungs, “WAKE UP!”
There was silence. Only the hum of the stove in the center of the greenhouse, and the sound of gravel under Yarrow’s feet as he walked down the row, surveying the pots. Like the other rooms, it smelled of fresh dirt and clean air, but with so few plants, it only smelled very faintly of green growth and flowers. It reminded Terlu a bit of a near-empty hospital: clean, silent, waiting.
“Water them,” Lotti commanded.
“I have watered them,” Yarrow said. “It doesn’t make a difference.”
“Try again.”
Crossing the greenhouse to a pump, he filled a watering can and returned to the pots. He added water to each of them, checking the soil to make sure the water was the appropriate level of moisture for the type of plant. Some he only gave a few drops; others he filled until their pots dripped. When he finished, he set the can down and stood beside Terlu and Lotti.
“Why aren’t they already awake?” Lotti asked. “Are they… They’re not dead. I can see they aren’t.” Her voice was shaking more and more with each word. She jumped out of Terlu’s hands and landed beside one of the pots. “Come on, please wake up! Don’t leave me alone! Laiken is gone. I can’t lose you too!”
Terlu looked around the room as she slowly realized what these plants had in common, or more accurately, what Lotti and Yarrow both thought they did: They were supposed to be like Lotti. Like Caz.
But for some reason, they weren’t.
A thought hit her like a thunderclap:
