Chapter Fourteen #2
“That’s amazing,” Jack said. “Thank you!”
“How—” Calisa began.
Jack shot her a look.
“Thank you,” Calisa said instead. “Is there anything we can help you with in return, while the beavers are, um, mulching?”
Jack was nodding as if he approved of the question. It was an offer to help, not prying into her personal life, though Calisa was secretly hoping that Melidor would open up about why she was here and why her mother was so concerned.
“I’m good!” Melidor trilled.
“Are you sure? The other day, while I was passing by your room”—Calisa was not going to say she’d broken in; so far, Auntie Zee had not noticed that anyone had touched her master key—“I heard someone mention seedlings? Absolutely not trying to interfere, but if there’s any way we can help, then I—”
Melidor shrieked, high-pitched, then cascading down into a hum, then silence.
All the beavers stopped munching and stared at her. She waved at them, and they resumed. Perched on the porch roof, Steve reared onto his hind legs and flapped his wings before settling back down again. Calisa and Jack clapped their hands over their ears.
“I can’t,” Melidor said matter-of-factly, as if she hadn’t just screamed like an ambulance siren. “I’m supposed to, but I can’t.”
“Ah,” Calisa said, lowering her hands. Please say more.
Melidor did not disappoint.
“It’s something that every dryad has to do for herself,” Melidor said.
“It’s how we enter adulthood. We coax seedlings to plant, and when they blossom, your family hosts a festival.
It’s elaborate and awful, and everyone will be looking at me.
” She put her hands over her face. “I’m not ready for it, that’s all. ”
Dryad.
She’s a dryad.
All right, then.
It occurred to Calisa that she’d had more unusual conversations in the past week than she’d had in, well, ever.
Since she’d come here, she’d been continually surprised in both tiny and worldview-changing ways.
She wondered if Jack still felt that surprise.
He couldn’t have expected mulch-making beavers.
Still…dryad or not, Calisa recognized someone being pushed too far too fast. “If you aren’t ready, then take the time you need. Listen to yourself.”
“I’ve already delayed six months! Coming here…this was my final idea for putting it off. I thought if I could disappear, they’d lose interest….”
“Is there a deadline?” Calisa asked. “Will anything bad happen if you wait?”
She lowered her hands from her face. “Well, no. Not exactly. It’s only that everyone expects me to have already planted by now. It’s traditional.”
“What’s the worst case if you wait until you feel ready?”
“My family would fuss.”
“And if you ignore their fussing and don’t listen?”
Melidor considered this. Her eyes flicked from flower to flower, as if drawing strength from them. In the background, the beavers nibbled and gnawed, a steady chomping hum.
“Is there anything that says the tradition can’t wait?” Calisa asked. “Any end time by which it has to be completed or you miss out?”
“No…”
“So it’s just the pressure from what others want?”
“Yes.”
“Then stay here, talk to the beavers, run through the forest, and don’t listen to the fussing. Close your closet door until you’re ready to hear them again. And listen to when you feel ready. You’re allowed to grow up at your own pace.”
Jack nodded enthusiastically.
Melidor’s eyes were wide, and Calisa noticed that the flecks of green looked like leaves winding on a vine around her pupils. “You truly think I can do that?”
Calisa backtracked. “I don’t know your family or your traditions or your…realm.” She stumbled over the last word. “Only you know that. But you can’t force emotions. If you don’t feel ready, I think it’s okay to take a step back if you need to.”
Melidor nodded. “That’s why I came here in the first place. I just needed to think. To breathe. I felt like I couldn’t breathe at home, with everyone telling me how excited I was supposed to feel.”
“There’s no shame in needing time and space,” Calisa said firmly. “That’s why I came here too. I had some stuff to process, and I thought distance would help.”
“Is it helping?” Melidor asked.
Given that she hadn’t so much as thought the name Ethan in days…He didn’t fit into a place with portals and cake and magic and a friendly winged lizard and an infuriatingly hot groundskeeper who may or may not have the answer to every question she wanted to ask. “Definitely yes.”
Melidor launched herself at Calisa and hugged her so tightly that it felt like being wrapped in vines. She then released her and scampered to the edge of the woods, where she began chewing on one of the downed logs, alongside a beaver.
“You’re good at this,” Jack said to Calisa.
She glanced at him, and he was smiling at her, his warm brown eyes like a mug of hot chocolate.
She felt like she’d picked the right words, but it was tricky to give advice when you knew little about the person, their background, or their world.
“I hope I said the right thing and didn’t get her in trouble with her family.
Any idea what she meant by planting seedlings? Do you think they’re magic seedlings?”
“Highly likely.”
“Cool.”
Both of them watched Melidor chowing down on a log.
Waving at her, Calisa said, “It’s not just me who thinks that’s odd, right?”
“Not just you.”
“Mmm…” She watched Melidor spit out chunks of wood. There was a growing pile of wood chips beside each of the beavers. “Honestly, it’s making me hungry.”
“Chocolate cake?” Jack said hopefully.
Calisa headed for the inn. “Lunch.”
Above, the lizard launched himself off the porch roof, circled once, and then landed neatly on Calisa’s shoulder. She carried him inside, while Jack trotted after her. Behind them, Melidor and the beavers continued to gnaw and chomp.