9. Chapter 9
Gunnar
After I return home, I cannot stop thinking about the moment Arlo jumped from the boat. He’d sunk beyond my reach, fingertips flexing above the surface for something to grab onto before even those had disappeared, too.
He could have drowned. He would have, if I hadn’t leaped in after him. My heart hasn’t raced so fast in years. Not since the night I lost Leif. This isn’t good. I promised myself I’d never let myself feel the pain of losing someone I loved again.
I can’t fall for Arlo. The sooner this bloody deal between us is done, the better. I can move on, keep my sanity, and remain faithful to Leif.
What did Arlo say he needs? A flower? I smelled flowers the first day I visited their home, but the scent was especially strong near the greenhouse. If the flower is somewhere in there, I could simply take it.
A spasm of shame racks my stomach. My father did not raise me to be such a coward. Thievery is for the weak—but I am weak, weak with fear that I’ll come to care for Arlo and break my promise to Leif, or know the pain of losing Arlo.
So, in the early hours of the morning, I leave the village and return to Arlo’s time.
I’d noticed yesterday that the wards had changed, allowing me to enter with Arlo.
Whether his coven altered the wards to let me inside or I was only allowed in because Arlo was with me, I’ll have to see for myself.
I approach from the woods as the sun rises at my back, sunlight glittering on freshly fallen snow. The wards become more visible the closer I get, shimmering like mist. I stick out my foot and give the wards a gentle kick, scowling when my foot bounces off them.
Arlo’s coven still doesn’t trust me enough to let me onto the grounds without him present. Yet another reason to end this as soon as possible. How could we ever be together if his family and friends dislike me?
“Gunnar, is that you?” Arlo’s grandmother strides along the path to my left, hands clasped behind her back. Suspicion lines her brow.
My heart sinks into my stomach. “A-aye. I was just… I wanted to see Arlo. I couldn’t sleep. Kept thinking about what happened yesterday.”
Patricia’s expression softens, lips curving into a smile. “Arlo’s fine. Thank you for helping him yesterday. I’m always telling that boy to put heat charms in his coats.” She sighs, shaking her head with a fond smile. “He would have warmed up much faster.”
“He could do that?”
“Oh yes. He always refuses. There’s a slight risk of the spell going awry and setting the material on fire.”
My eyes damn near roll into the back of my head. “Gods forbid his fancy coats get singed.”
Patricia laughs. “As if he doesn’t have a closet full of them!”
It’s so very Arlo, I can’t help chuckling.
“He’s asleep now but he usually gets up quite early to go jogging. Would you like to come in?”
I’m surprised she’d ask. “Sure.”
With a flick of her fingers, the wards part and allow me to cross over into the grounds. “Were you going… jogging as well?” I’m unsure what that means.
“I was on my way to tend to my garden.”
This could be my chance to get a look inside and see if I can find that flower myself. “Arlo’s told me stories about this garden of yours. He’s said it’s the finest garden in all the realms.”
She flushes. “He isn’t wrong. The garden has been in my family for generations. Would you like to see it?”
“Of course.”
Patricia leads the way to the greenhouse.
At her approach, roots and vines and ivy recede to reveal a doorway.
I doubt I’d be able to enter without her present.
The air inside is thick with the sweet scent of flowers and plants.
Many kinds of trees reach toward the domed ceiling, and plants climb up the walls.
“It must take great skill with magic to ensure all these plants can coexist together,” I say, stroking the petals of a bright red flower.
“Indeed it does. My mother wouldn’t let me inherit the garden until she was confident I was ready.”
One plant catches my eye. It’s a single flower, encased in a glass jar. It hasn’t bloomed yet. “Is this one new?”
“Ah, yes!” She bustles over and lifts the jar.
The sweetest scent caresses my nose, and tension I didn’t know I was carrying bleeds from my shoulders.
This flower’s scent feels like sinking into a hot spring on a cold day.
Patricia gives me a knowing smile. “It’s a lunar flower.
It blooms only at night beneath the moon.
Ulfhednar are supposed to find it quite calming. ”
I inhale another lungful of the flower and sigh. “It is.” This must be the flower Arlo needs for his potion. It would be so easy to reach out and take it, but she’d surely notice. I’d have to come back in the night and—
“Gunnar?” Patricia’s voice makes me lurch away from the flower. “What are your favorite flowers? I’d love to make bouquets for you and Arlo on your special day.”
Gods, why must she make such a kind offer whilst I’m over here plotting to rob her?
I scratch the back of my neck. “I’m unsure. Can’t say I’m familiar with flowers.”
“Arlo loves calla lilies. Have a look about. Let me know if you see something that catches your eye.”
I’m at a loss for where to start. How am I to choose from so many flowers?
Patricia keeps herself busy at a workbench, assembling different flower arrangements and humming while she works.
A burst of red flowers bloom from a bush to my right. I lean in for a sniff and linger, enjoying the sweet floral notes. “What’s this?”
She turns. “Those are roses. A classic romantic flower.”
I give the rose bush another sniff. “I like them.”
“Splendid! Roses go wonderfully with calla lilies. These will make beautiful arrangements for your wedding!”
Guilt makes it difficult to appreciate the roses’ sweet scent. I pull my hand away from them and wince as something sharp snags my skin. A bead of blood surfaces and I lick away the droplet, surprised by how much it stings.
“For such a romantic flower, it’s quite dangerous.”
“Ah, love can hurt. It blooms bright and beautiful, but it can cut.” She carefully snips the roses from the bush.
A sigh escapes me. “Aye. I know.”
I regret speaking when she pauses to look at me, sympathy tugging her brows down. “Oh dear, so do I.”
I look away, feigning interest in a bee that buzzes around one of the roses. “Ah.”
She’s quiet for a moment, taking the roses to her bench. She clears her throat. “Lunar flowers were my Frank’s favorite flower. It’s why I searched for so long to find one. He always wanted to see one for himself, but he… well, he got sick a few years ago.”
It takes effort to swallow as a familiar ache takes hold of me. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.” The salty scent of tears urges me to come and stand beside her, trying to offer comfort. Patricia dashes away the wetness in her eyes.
“How did you go on without him?” I ask, clearing my throat when it gets too scratchy.
“It took a long time before I could even think of him without crying.” With a soft laugh, she motions to her teary eyes. “I still do, sometimes. But eventually, the pain lost its edge, and I can remember all the wonderful times we shared.”
I rub my chest. “It hasn’t faded, not for me.”
“It takes as long as it takes. Everyone grieves differently. That pain is proof that we loved and were loved. Imagine if we felt nothing at all? How terrible would that be?”
Blinking fast, I turn away and thumb the corner of my eye. “I wouldn’t mind feeling nothing,” I admit.
“I know. I grieved him for many years until one day, I met Agatha.” She laughs softly. “I was surprised that I was ready to open my heart to anyone, most of all another woman.”
I look at her in shock. “And you moved on? Like that?”
“I was as shocked as you are, dear. I was lonely, and I still had love left to give.”
I shake my head. “But weren’t you guilt-ridden? Didn’t you worry you were betraying Frank’s memory?”
Patricia nods. “I was so torn up about it, I visited his grave and asked him if he would be all right if I chose to love again. I told him no one would replace him in my heart, but that I could hold space for his love and a new one. Loving someone new doesn’t mean forgetting what you shared with another.
I’m able to love Agatha as fully as I can because my Frank taught me how. ”
I marvel at her ability to move on with someone new, never forgetting her old love, but unafraid to embrace a new one. I could never be that strong.
“Here you are, dear.” Patricia holds out a beautiful arrangement of roses, bright red against bursts of greenery and white flowers. “Calla lilies and roses.”
A smile curls my lips. “It’s beautiful.”
She flushes with pride. “A gift. Let me know if you’d like any changes, and we’ll use this design for your wedding.”
“Thank you.” My chest tightens, and I lower my gaze to the flowers.
Don’t forget about me… Leif’s voice rings through my mind, and I close my eyes against the sudden surge of grief.
Patricia touches my shoulder, her hand warm and gentle. “I know, dear. Love and loss, they’re a lot like flowers, I think. Love comes and goes, much like flowers wilt and die. But there will come a day when they bloom again.”
I wipe my eyes and clear my throat. “I know, I… It must be wedding nerves.”
“Of course, dear. You focus on taking care of yourself. And don’t be afraid to lean on Arlo if you need to. I’m sure he’d understand.”
With the flowers in my arms, I leave the greenhouse behind.
Is it possible that I can keep Leif in my heart and accept my feelings for Arlo?
No. No. I made a promise to Leif to never forget him. I won’t break it.
Even if kissing Arlo felt like the first deep breath I’d taken in years.
“Those flowers Nan put together are beautiful,” Arlo says. “Do you like them?”
I like the way Arlo looks after he has had a shower. His hair shines like polished gold, and there’s a dewy glow to his skin that makes it look soft. The citrus scent of the soap only complements his natural scent.
“They’re beautiful,” I reply.