The Enchanted Greenhouse(123)
Yarrow skimmed through the pages. “It’s three letters. One from your mother, one from your father, and one from Cerri—that’s your sister, right?” She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, while he continued to read silently. He then smiled.
She exhaled like a bubble popping.
“They forgive you, they understand you, and they’re proud of you.” He handed her the letters. “You should read them.”
Kneeling on the bed, she took them and read.
Her mother first—she scolded her for not writing sooner, saying how worried they’d been, saying how happy they were that she was well. Her father—he talked about the tides, how the stars had said she’d find happiness, and how they missed her. “My father says he knew I’d land on my feet. And my sister…” She read the letter from Cerri. “Oh! She’s having a baby. I’m going to be an aunt. They want me to meet my new niece.”
She held the letters to her chest as if she could absorb them straight into her heart. She’d lost six years as a statue, but she wouldn’t lose any more. Her family still cared. They weren’t angry, and they missed her. Maybe they didn’t fully understand, but they cared. If they came to visit … When they came to visit, she corrected herself, she’d try to explain. She’d left Eano to find a place where she had a purpose. It had just taken her longer than she’d thought it would to find it. It would be all right.
I have a niece. And her father knew she’d find happiness.
She reread the letters three times while Yarrow puttered at the counter, kneading dough and then setting it to rise in a covered bowl by the hearth. When at last she’d reassured herself that it was real and her family was fine, Terlu opened her gift, the new spellbook.
She gasped.
On the title page, in curling script, were the authors: Kiela and Caz of Caltrey. Terlu felt her breath catch in her throat. She didn’t know who Kiela was, but Caz …
It could be a coincidence.
It didn’t necessarily have to be her Caz, the talking spider plant she’d created all those years ago. It was not a common name, but it wasn’t unheard of. Still, it could be him. How, though, could he have come to have co-written a spellbook? And where was Caltrey? He’d been in Alyssium, the last she knew. If it is him, he escaped the burning of the library. She hoped with all her heart that it was him.
“Terlu?” Yarrow asked, concern in his voice.
She turned the pages. They contained spells, written phonetically, with lists of ingredients. Most were for growing plants and revitalizing trees, but the book also contained a few recipes, one for raspberry jam and another for cinnamon buns, credited to a local baker named Bryn.
But what about Caz? Was it her Caz?
Terlu flipped to the end to find a brief note about the authors: Kiela and Caz were the co-owners of a jam shop on the island of Caltrey. Kiela was formerly a librarian at the Great Library of Alyssium, where Caz, a sentient talking spider plant, had been her librarian assistant. She thanked her husband, Larran, as well as a list of friends. Caz thanked his partner, Meep.
Yarrow wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
She realized she was crying.
“He’s okay,” Terlu said. “I did the right thing.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The day of the Winter Feast, the solstice, dawned bright. Terlu leaped out of bed, and Yarrow joined her. She’d helped him with the dough the night before, and she’d learned enough about baking to know the next step. While she shaped the loaves for the second rise, he ducked into the privy to wash. After he emerged, he began work on the sugar decorations, little roses and vines all made of white frosting. Finishing the loaves, she washed and got herself ready, choosing a jewel-colored dress from Alyssium that Ambrel had loaned her, and then rejoined him by the kitchen counter. He’d dressed up too, in soft wool pants with embroidered vines on the sides and a white shirt that pulled tight across his chest. He’d combed his hair and shaved as well, and she admired him as he set the table for two. Yarrow smiled when he noticed and admired her right back, his eyes lingering on her lips as if he were thinking of a lovely memory.
They ate leftover honey cakes for breakfast, and she fried two eggs. One of the new arrivals had produced a few chickens from deep within the hull of Marin’s boat. There was talk of plans to bring more chickens to the island, as well as a goat and perhaps a cow. （Marin flat-out refused to have that on her boat, but there were other supply runners who would.） Now that their little population was growing, no one wanted to decimate the local birds with overhunting them or overharvesting their eggs. More people meant more mouths. But it also means more ideas and more dreams. On the whole, she thought it was a definite win.
“Did you talk to Ambrel about the decorations?” Yarrow asked. He’d finished his eggs and had returned to preparing his desserts for the Winter Feast. He’d already piped several trays’ worth of decorations, all of them exquisitely elaborate.
“She said Rowan wants to help with them.”
Yarrow quit piping the frosting into the shape of a rose. “No.”
“Why no? She seemed excited.”
He sighed heavily. “She’s been crocheting yarn eyes to attach to the plants. She thinks it would be funny.”
Terlu grinned. “That would be funny, if the plants are okay with it.”