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“You can understand them, then?” he asks, again seeming surprised. “I didn’t realize… You were only in the garden a little over two years. I didn’t think it would be long enough for you to absorb their language.”
“It was enough to turn my hair blue,” I say, motioning toward my head. “That was one heck of a surprise. Any other secrets I should know about before I go promise the creatures that Clara is going to be all right?”
Something flickers behind his eyes—a warning not to promise things I can’t deliver, I think—but I lift a hand before he can speak. “She’s going to be all right, Da. She has to be. She’s…a part of me. I love her. I can’t imagine a life without her, so I won’t. Not yet. Not unless I’ve absolutely no choice.”
After a moment, he nods. “All right. And no. No more secrets. Just be careful, son. Dream things have a different moral compass than we do. And if they know your father killed their mother…” He lays a hand on my back. “On second thought, you should come inside with me. We’ll leave it up to Clara to explain things to them when she’s able.”
I start to protest that they didn’t seem overly fond of their mother and will absolutely be desperate for news of their girl, when a soft voice whispers near my right shoulder, “I’m able,” and I jump a foot in the air.
“What’s wrong?” Da asks.
I wrench my head around, searching for who might have said that, but there’s no one. Nothing. I’m still looking, heart pounding, Da asking again what’s amiss, when the voice speaks again. “Sorry. Just give me a second. And maybe…your shirt?”
A beat later, a tiny butterfly, no bigger than the pad of my thumb, flutters out from behind my ear. “My shirt?” I echo, then connect the dots before she can explain. “Right. My shirt.” I reach for the top button as I warn my father, “You should close your eyes, Da.”
“Close my eyes?” he asks, seeming not to have heard the tiny voice.
“When Clara changes form, she comes through without any clothes on.”
My father blushes and makes a few doubtful sounds, but his hands end up over his eyes. As soon as it’s safe, the butterfly dissolves into a puff of smoke that grows thicker, denser. When the smoke clears, Clara is standing in front of me.
She braces one trembling hand on my shoulder, unsteady on her one remaining leg. I draw her against me and hold her tight, shielding her with my shirt as I whisper into her hair, “Thank God. I thought I’d never see you with your eyes open again. I thought…” I kiss her temple, her cheek, her temple again. “I’m so sorry about your leg. Da says there was no other way.”
“I know. He saved me.” Her arms tighten around my neck. “I think. I’m still not sure I’ll make it, Declan. I feel so strange, and Mother showed me things in the garden last night…” She pulls back, gazing up at me with her heart in her eyes, leaving no doubt she feels the way I do—like life is only worth living if we get to live it together. “If you and Adrina fall in love… If that’s what happens, I’ll be happy for you. Yes, it will hurt, but your happiness is all that matters. I want you to do what feels right, and to have a long, beautiful life filled with—”
“Hush.” I stop her with a finger to her lips and a soft laugh. “I’m not going to fall for Adrina. You’re the one I love.”
Her brow furrows. “But I saw you, Declan. In the pond where you lived when you were a boy. I saw your future. With Adrina. And…” She presses her lips together, seeming to debate something before continuing, “You had a family. Three sweet children and then grandchildren. It was…beautiful. You made it beautiful. Together. By loving each other so well. I don’t want to take that from you.”
I cup her face in my hand, sliding my fingers into her hair. “You aren’t taking anything from me,” I say with a smile. “None of that has happened or will happen. It wasn’t real.”
“But it could have been,” Da pipes up. I turn to see him, thankfully with his eyes still covered, and pull away from Clara, helping her into my shirt. “That’s why you were planted in that pond, Declan,” he continues. “It’s a finding pool. If there’s a way forward, it finds it. Even when all hope seems lost.”
“I hate that pool,” I say cheerfully, buttoning Clara up and pressing another kiss to her forehead. “It’s safe, Da. You can open your eyes.”
Clara accepts the arm I wrap around her waist and leans against me, but she’s clearly not ready to give this up. “But it was a wonderful life, Declan. Truly. Not perfect, but—”
