The Unfortunate Side Effects of Heartbreak and Magic(71)

“It was always going to hurt, cari?o. All you can hope for is that the love is worth the pain. And I know it was.”

Raquel was talking about Gigi, but Sadie involuntarily thought of Jake.

“Have you tried gardening?” Raquel asked tentatively.

“No,” Sadie answered automatically. “I can’t go out there.” Every time she’d tried, the closer she got to the back porch, the more she felt rooted to the spot, until her feet tingled and her soul seemed to stretch in the opposite direction. The magic of the garden seemed, in her mind, tied to Gigi. And Gigi was dead.

“You’ll get there,” Raquel told her, holding Sadie’s cold hand in her own warm one.

“And speaking of getting there,” Seth said, walking into the living room on the tail end of their conversation, “we need to talk about the sacrifice. The conduit.”

“I’m not losing you too,” Sadie said with vehemence.

“Sade, it was just a dream,” he said softly. All she had to do was look at him and know he’d somehow seen her terrible vision.

“You’re my priority now,” Sadie said. “The thought of losing you—” She broke off.

“I know,” he said. “It makes you furious and bitter and terrified. I can feel it rolling off you. But that’s not how we tackle this. You’re the one with systems and solutions, okay? I’m the ideas guy. We’ll fix this together.”

“I’m the moral support,” Raquel chimed in. She tried to make her voice light, but Sadie could see the fear buried in her eyes.

Seth gave her a grateful smile and then stood, pulling Sadie to her feet. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned his forehead against hers.

“I’m here,” he said. The words echoed in the chaos of her brain. “Neither one of us is going anywhere.”

She nodded and tried to believe him.

“Now get your ass into the garden,” he said. “Get your hands in the earth. You know it always makes you feel better.

“Why is everyone trying to get me to the garden? It was destroyed, remember?”

“Because sometimes we know what’s better for you,” Raquel said with a smile that formed itself like a secret.

“Sometimes?” Seth asked.

She didn’t go into the garden that day. She spent each hour obsessively working through all aspects of the curse, every morsel of information they knew, and making plans. And constantly she fought the urge to heed her brother’s and best friend’s advice until, finally, the evening light called to her too strongly to ignore. The smell of fresh earth and green stalks had been following her around too long.

She cautiously opened the back screen door, her chest tight and lips pursed, bracing herself. Maybe if she could just feel the dirt against her skin, it would make her feel closer to Gigi. Give her some kind of inspiration about the sacrifice. She braced herself for the devastation, the uprooted plants, the scattered bushes, the work she’d need to do to get it back in order. Maybe that was what she needed. Something to do with her hands, to keep her thoughts at bay.

But some kind of miracle had been wrought. Nearly everything was replanted or fixed. She walked down the tight rows, brushing her hands along velveteen leaves, soaking in the comfort of the wild sweet peas that had been reattached to the arbor. The scent of sage and rosemary mingled with mint and thyme, soaking into her skin like a homecoming. She marveled at the squash and zucchini plants, all the trampled leaves and crushed vegetables cleared away. Already there were new blossoms peeking through the foliage. Who had done it?

Certainly not Seth—the garden still wouldn’t let him in—and Raquel could kill a plant just by looking at it. It had to be Revelare magic, Sadie concluded in wonder.

Sitting down right in the center of the garden, the early September sunshine warming her skin, she sank her hands into the earth. A peach plopped off the tree and rolled toward her, stopping just within arm’s length, like an offering. She wanted so badly for it to be a good omen, but it was hard for her to believe in goodness just then. Even so, the garden welcomed her back. Emerald-green leaves reached toward her, and tight flower buds opened into blooms in a wave of hello. Some of the brokenness inside her began to knit back together as the very dirt seemed to call to her. She had almost forgotten what pleasure felt like, but as she picked up the peach and inhaled its fuzzy skin, the scent of summer memories and childhood mixed with the earthy soil, and it smelled like a promise.

She heard a low, grumbling meow, and a fluffy black cat slunk out from behind the sweet peas. He came straight toward Sadie, rubbing against her legs, calling out in a gravelly meow. His fur was so downy and wild, particularly around his neck, that he looked like a lion in cat form. And Sadie was instantly drawn to him. He peered into her eyes and seemed to see her sorrow and reflect it, absorbing it as he crawled into her lap, turned in a circle, and lay down. She knew without understanding that this cat was now hers. Maybe she’d have to give Jake his dog back. But probably not. Maybe we could have shared custody of him, she thought with a wry smile that felt foreign on her face.

“I think I’ll call you Simon,” she whispered, stroking his ears and head as he purred louder than a motor. And from that moment, there was nowhere Sadie went in the garden that Simon wasn’t. Every time he meowed in his gravelly voice, it reminded her of Gigi’s bullfrog laugh.