Chapter 31
Eliza
Inside the manor, it had finally quieted. The buzz of excitement and celebration left, and in its wake was the rosy exhaustion of happiness. I was vibrating in pure disbelief from the success of the night.
It had been an intimate event, and apparently, the fact that no one was ever invited to the manor significantly increased the prestige.
It was almost comical. Of course, Jasper was an absolute genius at saying the right thing at the right time to the right people.
It was magical to watch how he handled some of these wealthy, stuffy people—though not all were stuffy.
I met possibly the coolest human on earth—Emily, who wore cool, flowing pants and had a sharp black bob with bangs.
She wanted to be my agent. She was really persistent after a rich friend of Jasper’s bought one of my paintings for fifty thousand dollars.
FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!
I think Jasper may have put him up to it, but I honestly was too floored to care. That was what I made in a year at the botanical gardens! It was enough that I would have time to figure out what I wanted to do. I couldn’t believe it.
I stood at the threshold of the conservatory, the door slightly ajar, letting in the chill of the night.
The moon cast long silver shadows across the manicured lawn outside, while the faint scent of fresh earth lingered in the air.
Inside the conservatory, the quiet hum of life filled the space with the faint rustle of leaves.
It was the kind of stillness that invited reflection. It was perfect.
I had come to love this time of night, the moment when the world seemed to settle. It was definitely one of my favorite times to be in the conservatory, to take notice of the beauty that had bloomed not only in the soil, but in me.
I looked over the smattering of plants and flowers, the sprawling vines and ivy, and I marveled at how it had all come together, how, even after devastation, it had been put back together.
The garden was an ever-changing landscape, but more than that, it was a symbol of my journey, a reflection of everything that had grown and changed in my life.
When I had first arrived here, broken and lost, this space had been nothing more than a collection of neglected soil and wild growth, abandoned and forgotten.
I had come to the manor unsure of who I was or what I wanted.
My family and my struggles had seemed so consuming and definitive within me that I had no idea how to heal the parts of me that had been shattered—no idea that I could.
But somehow, this garden—this strange, beautiful, wild place—had taken me in. It taught me in ways I hadn’t understood at first. Something wild grew from the wreckage, and it was me.
When I took on the conservatory as a project, I had no idea it would teach me so much that had nothing to do with plants.
I learned that the weeds were part of the process—they came with the blooms, but with careful attention, I could pull them out and make space for new growth.
I learned that plants, like people, sometimes needed time to heal and that it didn’t always happen as quickly as I wanted.
They needed the right environment, care, and space to stretch toward the light, like Jasper and me.
I smiled softly to myself, remembering the first thing I had planted: a tuxedo pothos.
The soil had been hard and dry, terrible to work with.
The air of the conservatory had still been thick with a sense of abandonment.
But I had dug into it, loosening the earth, giving it room to breathe.
It was a simple act—planting a starter plant—but it felt monumental to me.
It almost felt like I was planting something within myself that had long been buried and neglected.
It was an act of hope, a belief that I, too, could finish the conservatory and grow again.
The garden transformed one flower at a time, one plant after another. And so did I. I started to let go of the things that weighed me down, and in doing so, I inadvertently made room for new things to take root.
I walked along the winding path that led deeper into the middle of the garden, taking note of all the plants I had managed to salvage.
I looked at where the corpse flowers were; to the untrained eye, they didn’t look like anything special right now.
The corpse flower had served as my beacon of hope.
When I thought that I couldn’t keep going and thought I had nothing left to give, they reminded me of resilience.
They grew in imperfect conditions with minimal care. And yet, they thrived in the chaos.
Through all of this, I learned that growth wasn’t always linear.
It wasn’t about constant progress or perfection.
Sometimes, growth came in fits and starts, in quiet moments of reflection, in gentle self-compassion.
I had learned to forgive myself, to recognize that because I was broken, it didn’t mean I couldn’t heal.
This garden had taught me that. Just as the plants grew in their own way, at their own pace, I had learned to trust my own rhythm.
I remained standing where the giant corpse flower had once bloomed.
It had been a difficult moment when I’d seen it destroyed—a symbol of loss and grief that had overshadowed everything else.
But even that had its place in my story.
The flower had been torn apart by forces beyond my control, yet something remained—something vital that could still be saved.
The garden was alive, not just with plants, but with memories and love and growth.
I looked around as I inhaled the comforting scent of soil and hard work and noticed the familiar fragrance of Chanel No. 5.
I let my eyes mist over with gratitude for all that had come from Hester and this adventure.
I looked at the empty patch of soil where her body had been, so bare and lonely amidst the green sea of vines and life inside the revived conservatory, and a wave of happiness hit my heart.
Even though the soil looked empty, this part of the garden had grown and healed more than any other plant in the conservatory.
It had healed people, and Jasper was one of them.
I had struggled tirelessly, deciding what to plant in the place where we had found Jasper’s mother, but nothing felt important or special enough to go there, so it remained an empty plot.
“There you are,” said Jasper as he stepped into the conservatory. “Have you started without me?”
I smiled, something I found myself doing a lot more often now. It was amazing what could come from being loved.
I met him in the middle of the garden and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly.
A mysterious light breeze drifted through the conservatory, causing the leaves and branches to flutter as if in applause.
Our kiss deepened instantly, as it always did.
A train could’ve passed through the glass, and neither of us would’ve noticed as long as we were in each other’s embrace. Time seemed to stand still.
Flushed now, I pulled back. Tonight was special for so many reasons.
We had received Hester’s ashes back, and it seemed like the time to tell him about seeing her and the locket.
I was tired of being worried he would find the locket and get upset with me, and I wanted him to know that Hester was still with him—literally.
She followed him around almost constantly.
True fear had wriggled into my chest. I hadn’t kept it from him to hurt him, but what if it did? The thought made my stomach flip and twist. I didn’t want any secrets between us.
“I have to tell you something, and I should’ve told you sooner, but—” My voice trailed off as I dug around in the pockets of my jacket. The locket was gone. Where was the locket? I had just had it.
“I have to tell you something too,” he said, still a little dazed from our kiss, completely oblivious to the fact that my face had paled as I furiously searched my outfit.
How could the locket have slipped from my pocket? I had just had my hand wrapped around it a second ago. There was no way that it had come out in the quiet of the garden. I would have noticed.
I suddenly noticed the wispy blur of Hester moving to stand in the middle of the conservatory. The leaves all gave another happy shake as a cool breeze rushed through the garden.
Hester Blackwood glowed like a beacon, emotion dancing in her eyes.
She gave a slow nod, and then she winked at me before a smile broke out on her face like I’d never seen.
She was as solid and lifelike as I was, no longer transparent, her eyes shifting to the ground in front of me where her son was.
“What’s this?” Jasper’s voice was filled with wonder as he lifted the gold locket from the soil of the empty flower bed.
Seeing what he pulled from the dirt, my head snapped back to look at Hester—but she was gone.
“Look,” Jasper said. “It looks like a locket—your locket.”
“I have to be honest with you. I found it in here when I first started… It was your mother’s.”
Jasper pried open the piece of jewelry and, with a thoughtful expression, tilted his head to the side. “Huh…”
“What does it say?” I asked, my eyes unable to move from where they’d latched onto Jasper’s face.
“My heart can finally dance in stillness.” He glanced up.
She was telling us it was time for her to go. Hester had finally found peace. This whole time she had stayed until Jasper knew the truth and was happy.
“I think it means she’s at peace.”
He handed me the locket, eager for me to see. “What should we do with it? Would you like it?”
I looked thoughtfully at the locket. “I think we should bury it where it belongs, with her ashes, if you’re okay with that.”