The Enchanted Greenhouse(125)
In one corner, three of the residents who knew how to play instruments, led by Yarrow’s aunt Harvena, were setting up. For the meal, a chorus of singing flowers were going to be moved in to provide ambient music, but before and after, anyone who wanted to could take a turn performing. Terlu had volunteered to play as well—Vix, Yarrow’s cousin who liked to fish, had a six-string guitar she could borrow. She hadn’t practiced since coming to Belde—and had zero practice in her six years as a statue, of course—but no one seemed to care whether the music was good. Just that it didn’t stop.
When Terlu had woken alone in the cold snow, she hadn’t expected to be a part of a full-out Winter Feast celebration the very same season. She hadn’t expected any of what had happened. She supposed that was why today mattered so much to her: it was a day to celebrate the improbable light that now burned in the implacable darkness.
Lotti bounced past her, a ribbon trailing from her petals.
And it’s a day to celebrate a whole lot of plants, Terlu thought with a grin.
* * *
At noon, it began!
Everyone filled the rose greenhouse, and the voices and laughter reached the rafters where Emeral and the tiny dragons snacked on their favorite treats—the cat and dragons seemed to have agreed to a truce, along with the leafy mice, due to the abundance of food. The two children on the island, the toddler Epu and the son of the newest arrival, had become fast friends and were chasing each other around the greenhouse. Rowan had produced a flute and was playing an upbeat melody while Ambrel danced with Birch.
Yarrow was seated beside Terlu, and he seemed, miraculously, to be enjoying himself, despite the cacophony of the crowd. On the other side of Terlu was Rijes, and she was clapping in rhythm with the music. Butterflies and dragonflies flittered overhead.
Everyone who could cook had cooked:
Carrots that tasted like candy. Asparagus coated in a creamy yellow sauce. Potatoes prepared six different ways—fried, roasted, baked, twice-baked, and cooked with cheese and with cream. Fish flavored with herbs that Terlu couldn’t even name but tasted beyond delicious. A few dishes weren’t her favorite, like the mussels in butter that Yarrow loved but reminded Terlu too much of slugs, but she loved the dish with squash cut into noodles mixed in a nut-flavored sauce, as well as a sweet carrot bread made by one of the uncles. And Yarrow had prepared her favorite, the layered zucchini, squash, and tomato dish he’d perfected.
They ate, they talked, they laughed, they sang, they told stories, and they danced.
Above the greenhouse, snow fell lightly as the shortest day of the year dipped toward nightfall. When desserts were brought out, everyone oohed and ahhed. Yarrow’s sugar glass with flavored roses was proclaimed the star, but there were also berry pies （Terlu contributed a blueberry pie） and cakes and cobblers and an amazing peach tart （Yarrow’s grandfather’s recipe）。 And of course, chocolate-covered oranges.
After so much food was eaten that everyone sagged in their chairs and proclaimed over and over that they’d never need to eat again, Terlu tapped Yarrow on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, “What do you think?”
He whispered back, “It’s wonderful.”
“Are you ready to leave?” she asked.
“I love you,” he said.
She smiled. “I guessed that.”
Terlu held out her hand, and he took it. They excused themselves from the table, said thank you and happy solstice to everyone. It took them more than a few minutes before they had extricated themselves and were strolling alone, hand in hand, through the greenhouses. She inhaled the delicate sweetness of springtime flowers.
“Were you really okay with today, all those people and plants in your greenhouse?” Terlu asked him, when they were far enough away from festivities that the music and the voices were only a pleasant hum. “Are you okay with all of us living here on Belde?” She hadn’t ever really asked him that. It had just sort of happened, and he hadn’t had any choice in it. His quiet life had been overturned, and she thought it was a good thing, but did he agree?
“It’s fine.”
“Really fine, or are you just saying that?”
Stopping beside a lilac, he turned and took both of her hands in his. “Since you came into my life…” He swallowed, and she thought for a moment that he wasn’t going to find the words, but then he did. Looking into her eyes, he continued. “I thought I was content to spend my life on Belde alone. I had a purpose, and I thought it was enough. You, though … You were unexpected.”
Terlu bit her lip to keep from asking if “unexpected” was good or not.
“You changed everything.”
She swallowed. Yes, she had.
“You changed me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Terlu said. “I think you’re amazing the way you are.”
Yarrow shook his head. “What I’m trying to say is you make my world better. Every day, in a million different ways. You brought me to life.”
“Then … it’s good? All of this. Us?”
“Very good,” he said. “And you? This isn’t the life you planned either. You had no choice about coming here, no choice about being woken in the cold and alone—I am deeply sorry about that day, if I’ve never said so. I shouldn’t have left. After I cast the spell … when it didn’t work right away, I was certain it wasn’t going to work at all.”