No rain. October sky scrubbed clean, the kind of bright autumn day that makes everything sharp-edged and vivid.
The clarity from yesterday remains.
The greenhouse is empty when I arrive mid-morning, my lectures optional while I’m recovering from my heat
The space holds yesterday's warmth, physical and otherwise. Evidence of their work everywhere: organized benches, thriving seedlings, the careful repairs that make the glass panes whole again.
The chamomile harvested from my windowsill waits in a cloth bag. The stems are bundled with twine the way Mira taught, leaves and flowers intact, ready for drying.
The herb drying station hasn't been used in years. Wooden racks near the back wall, dusty but sound. I keep busy, wipingdown the slats, checking the hooks overhead, making sure the space is ready. Then I hang the chamomile bundles.
One by one, suspended from the rafters where they'll catch air and dry slowly. The pale flowers glow against dark wood, the scent filling the greenhouse with something distinctly mine.
Juniper appears from beneath a table, assessing my work with her good eye. "Approval noted," I murmur. She blinks slowly and settles into a patch of sun.
The door opens.
Calder stops just inside, gray eyes finding the chamomile first, then finding me. His expression softens into a smile that makes heat settle deep in my core.
"I’ve had requests for chamomile and fennel tea."
His expression shifts, approval and something deeper. "So, we’re doing this."
“I want to be… useful.”
He smiles. “You’re so much more than that.” His voice is husky.
He moves into the greenhouse properly, setting down the toolbox he's carrying. The sound of metal settling against wood. Then silence while he studies what's been done.
"I want to ask you something."
My pulse picks up. "Okay."
"The bench I built." He gestures toward it. "Is it the right height?"
The mundanity breaks the tension building in my shoulders, and an almost laugh escapes.
"It's perfect."
"I can adjust it if?—"
"Calder."
He stops. Looks at me directly.
"It's perfect because you built it for me."
He's quiet for a beat. Then: "I'd build you anything."
"I know."
He moves closer. Deliberate steps, nothing rushed. Stops within arm's reach and pauses there for a heartbeat, two, three, my pulse jumping erratically as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I’ve never met anyone like you before, Elowen.”
I swallow hard. “Is that a good thing?”
He smiles. “It’s… unexpected.” He must realize how that sounds because he quickly adds, “But now that I have met you, I realize it’s the very best thing.”
