“We do,” I say. “Really, there’s always something to do.Cleaning the house, preparing food, laundry, working in the garden, and Sol has taught a few girls how to hunt. Only the older girls go into town much.”
She wrinkles her nose a little. “Sounds like a lot of chores.”
“It is, but it’s kind of nice, honestly. Keeping busy helps avoid dwelling too much on the negative. Sol says hard work fosters a focused mind. And doing things with the other girls can be a lot of fun.”
“I guess that makes sense. It might be nice to not have the time to think so much about …everything.”
Neither of us needs to elaborate. No one with a perfect life ends up in the hollow. We all have something dark in our pasts, some source of pain that left us lost and alone before Sol saved us. We all know this, without having to say a word. We can recognize it in each other. Like knows like.
“So where’d you come from?”
“What do you mean?” I ask as I climb onto Poppy and Zinnia’s bed in order to reach the shelves where the extra blankets and pillows are kept.
“You don’t sound like you’re from around here,” she explains. “You’ve got a different accent from the other girls.”
“Huh. I guess I do. Haven’t really thought much about it.”
“I’mnot from here either,” she offers. “I’m from up near Cincinnati. So I was curious.”
I pull down a mostly flat pillow and drop it onto the bed before reaching up for another. “We, um … we don’t really talk about that here. Where we came from before, I mean.”
“That’s right!”
Rose and I both turn to look at the open doorway, where Lily stands, cheeks rounded in that familiar warm smile.
“Sorry if I’m interrupting. Just thought I’d come check to see if y’all need any help?”
“You’re not interrupting,” I assure her. “But I think I got it covered. Just getting Rose some bedding.”
Lily plops down into a sitting position beside Rose on the mattress. “How are you feeling, Rose?”
It takes Rose a moment to respond, as if she doesn’t realize she’s the one being spoken to at first. Then, when it registers, she gives a quick nod. “Yeah. Just … figuring things out.”
“Well, it’s so nice to have you here with us. I know you’re gonna love it here as much as we do.”
Lily, along with Violet, is one of the oldest girls here, somewhere just over the edge of twenty, though she is also the shortest among us, at least a foot shorter than Poppy and Zinnia, whotower over everyone, save for Sol, at nearly six feet. Lily’s the peacemaker, always smiling, always encouraging. She is the one who holds our hands when the day’s hard work isn’t enough to stave off some sadness or braids our hair when we are emotionally drained after one of Sol’s Growth Sessions. Whenever any of us bicker, she is the one to step in. And no one—except maybe Violet—ever seems bothered by this. Because it’s impossible to be angry with Lily.
“You said you don’t talk about where you came from?” Rose asks.
“We,” Lily corrects gently. “You’re one of us now, hon. And yeah. You got that right. We don’t dwell on the past here. Don’t matter where we came from; only matters where we’re going. Who we are right here, right now.”
“We’re given a fresh start here,” I say, tossing the other pillow to my feet and dragging down an old quilt.
“That’s right.” Lily gives me an approving smile that makes me feel a little surge of pride. It’s the same warm feeling I would get in elementary school when the teacher put a shiny gold star on my spelling homework. “Letting go of the past—starting over—that’s what’ll help us all grow into the best versions of ourselves. Then we can bloom.”
Rose’s painted lips curve into a smile for the first time since shewalked through the front door. “Gotta admit, that does sound nice,” she says. “Starting fresh, I mean.”
“You’re in the right place, then. Because that’s what it’s all about here. And like I told you, you won’t have to do any of it alone. You’ll have all of us to help.” Lily gets to her feet and takes the pillows I pulled down a minute ago, moving to arrange them neatly on Rose’s mattress before tossing Zinnia’s onto the bed she’ll be sharing with Poppy now. “You just gotta be willing to put in the work.”
“I can work hard,” Rose says.
“Then you’ll do just fine. Speaking of blooming, though, Iris, am I right that your one-year anniversary here is coming up real soon?”
“Yeah,” I say, hugging the quilt I just retrieved from the shelf to my chest, like I need it to muffle the nervous and excited thump of my heart. “Next week.”
“That’s a big deal,” Lily says. Her expression turns a little more serious. “How you feeling about it? Looking forward to it?”
I nod. I don’t have the words to accurately convey the feelings that overtake me every time I think about my upcoming anniversary. Even if I did, I’m not sure it’s something I could talk about with Lily or Rose.
