The Enchanted Greenhouse(8)
She didn’t expect an answer, and she didn’t get one.
The silence pressed in on her, and she felt herself gulping for air. You’re okay, she told herself. You’ll find someone. Reaching up, Terlu stroked the cat’s neck. There had to be someone here, at least to feed the cat.
She kept to the widest route, hoping it would lead to the exit. Above her, two fans whooshed softly, drowning out the soft patter of the falling snow.
Sure enough, Terlu found the next door, framed in the same delicate ironwork as the others. “How many greenhouses are there?” she asked as she opened it. She was proud that her voice only shook a little, even if it didn’t fill the cavernous room. She spoke louder. “And do these count as multiple greenhouses, or is it a single greenhouse with multiple rooms? If so, are they greenrooms? No, that doesn’t sound right. Greenhouses within a greenhouse.” She’d studied linguistics extensively, but none of the texts she’d read had answered this specific question. Language was rife with oddities. It was one of the things she loved about the discipline.
A single smaller room, the next greenhouse was filled with shelf after shelf of pots. Inside, it was the perfect temperature. It reminded her of the first day of spring in Alyssium, when people filled their window boxes with seedlings and aired their freshly washed sheets out on their balconies. She walked farther in while the winged cat purred on her neck. The vast majority of pots only held soil, but a few had a green shoot punching through like a tiny fist raised in victory. Next to one was a trowel.
Stopping, Terlu stared at the trowel. Her knees felt watery, and her lips curved into a smile. “There is someone here.”
A gardener.
Someone had been tending to these pots, planting new seedlings or bulbs or whatever was in the soil. These plants weren’t overgrown and neglected; they were new growth, clear of weeds and debris. “Hello? Hello!” She rushed through the rows of pots into the next greenhouse—and walked directly into the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.
It was a room full of roses.
Everywhere she looked, roses climbed out of pots and over trellises, up the windows and into the cupola, every shade imaginable: pink, yellow, white, champagne, sky blue, purple, fuchsia, coral, dusty pink, salmon pink, deep red, an even deeper red so dark it was almost black … And the scent! It was intoxicating. Terlu breathed it in. It was such a rich, luscious scent that it made her feel as if she were floating on clouds at sunset.
The cat sneezed.
“Don’t be like that,” she said. “It’s nice.”
He stretched his wings and flew up toward the rose-coated rafters. Her shoulders felt instantly colder without him, and she wished he’d come back. Eyes up toward the ceiling, Terlu followed the cat as he soared, emerald feathers extended, across the greenhouse. She was so intent on watching the cat that she nearly missed seeing the man.
On his knees next to a rosebush with an overabundance of pale pink buds, a gardener was pruning dead sprigs. His back was to her, and he had one basket next to him filled with twigs and a bag that was filled with clippers, trowels, and other tools.
“Oh!” she cried. “Hello, hello!”
Startled, he dropped his clippers as he jumped to his feet. The clippers clattered onto the slate as he swiftly turned to face her.
Without thinking about whether she should or not, whether it was appropriate or not, whether it was welcome or not, Terlu threw herself forward and hugged him. She wrapped her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides, and she squeezed, her cheek pressed to his chest. It had been so very long since she’d touched anyone. Clinging to him, connecting with him, made her feel like she was really, truly here and whole again. “I’m alive, and you’re real!”
A second later, she realized she was hugging someone she’d never met and who might not want to be hugged, and she sprang backward—and the moment of connection was over. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have— I’m so terribly sorry. I won’t do that again.”
He looked shocked, as if she’d dumped a bucket of water on his head.
He also looked very handsome, even though there was a smear of dirt on his gold-hued cheek that she very much wanted to wipe off. She resisted the urge, though, since he was looking at her with so much confusion and alarm in his face that she thought he might flee if she tried.
She knew what he was seeing when he looked at her: a short, plump, pastel-colored woman who was pretty in the same kind of harmless way that bunnies are pretty. She had a wide smile, big purple eyes, and round cheeks, plus chipmunk-brown curls that bounced around her face. She did not look like the kind of person who ever popped up somewhere uninvited or did anything unexpected, which always seemed to mean people were extra shocked when she did exactly that.
“I’m sorry,” Terlu repeated. “It’s just—I thought this place was abandoned, and I didn’t know if I was going to find anyone ever. And I didn’t know what I was going to do if I couldn’t find anyone. Except for the cat. Who is very nice. And soft.” She was babbling, she realized. She closed her mouth and attempted a friendly smile.
“Who are you?” he asked.
I really shouldn’t have hugged him. That was not okay behavior. Should she apologize more? She desperately wanted to touch him again, to reassure herself that this wasn’t a dream. “I’m Terlu Perna, Fourth Librarian of the Second—” Formerly Fourth Librarian …