Chapter 54 Monroe
MONROE
“Spring went by so fast.” Cherri parks her floracycle on the curb and flashes me a grin.
I step off my bike, combing through my wind-swept strands. “It really did.”
It’s the end of our first spring as mated Blooms and partners in crime.
We trudge across the grass, bootprints weaving between pale-pink and rich-lavender foxgloves sprouting up from the soil. Cherri finds the spot first and waves wildly for me to come over.
I inhale and stare out at the watercolor sky with puffy clouds.
“Are you ready?” she asks, and I hear the part she doesn’t say… Are you ready to leave?
This time last year, I was plotting how to stay, desperate for a loophole to hold on to my mortal life and the people in it.
I’d be lying if I said there aren’t moments I still ache for a reality that no longer exists.
Healing is pretty on paper but messy in practice, and I remain an eternal work in progress.
I recall the Ever Briar and the first time its petals were depicted in strokes of paint smeared across a canvas of newspaper clippings, my mate’s reach extending far beyond his ephemeral mortality. Briar didn’t recognize the seeds he’d planted at first and neither had I.
If immortality has taught me anything, it’s that we don’t always witness our impact, but the seeds we plant still grow long after we’re gone.
My legacy is far from over, and I’ve still got more tending to do.
Cherri takes my hand and squeezes. “We can stay longer… I’m sure our mates will survive a few more hours without us.”
My friend has the patience of a saint. I’m starting to understand why Fate paired her with Dani.
She reminds me so much of Charlotte, never quick to judge, brimming with love, and a light shining on everyone around her.
Yes, there were people in my life after Charlotte’s passing who loved me, there’s no doubt in my mind about that, but I’d fixated on what I could offer them.
What I could do or achieve to earn their love.
I never considered the blessings they gave unconditionally in return.
I’d lived my life for everyone else. Part of me would probably always feel the need to fix things for the people I cared about. But through a seemingly impossible love, I was learning how to live for myself.
“No, it’s time to head back.” I squeeze her hand in return. “Our work here is done.”
Her smile grows wide. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Palms clutching our sternums, we both close our eyes and think of home.
Dragged through the veil, I stagger forward, still clumsy traveling between worlds. Before I open my eyes, I’m knocked off balance, gripped by three giggling sprouts. I trip over my feet to the joyful chorus of “Mommy!”
Lilliana’s little body vibrates with excitement. “We missed you so much!”
Millie shouts over her twin. “I missed her most.”
“It’s not a competition, Millie,” Taylor says, rolling her eyes.
Briar’s rich chuckle comes from behind me.
His mere proximity is like a magnet. I spent months trying to resist its pull, but I’ll always be drawn to him.
Taylor helps me up, and I turn to find him with Juniper attached to his hip.
Her tiny fingers reach out, and a moment later, she’s bounding out of his arms and into mine.
“Hey, Juni B. You been keeping your dad in line?” I give her a conspiratorial wink.
“Always.” She giggles, nuzzling my nose with her own.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out her Snickers, along with two bags of Skittles and a Fun Dip for the other three. They squeal, taking their treats and hopping up and down.
Briar and I watch them tear into the wrappers. “Impressive haul.”
“Thanks, learned from the best,” I tease, my huffed-out laugh transforming into a long, full-body yawn.
“We ought to be getting your mommy home. I know you girls had something you wanted to show her before her rejuvenation,” Briar says, tone tender and firm.
They cast each other mischievous glances, and Taylor mimics zipping her lips before any of the others say anything more.
“What’s that all about?” I ask my mate.
“Oh, you’ll see.” Briar rests his forehead against mine, the tips of our noses touching as he whispers, “Welcome home, my love.”
“Glad to be back.” I pull him in for a kiss.
Strolling back to The Nest, the girls run ahead, skipping the front door and heading to the backyard instead.
Millie’s bright face pops out as we turn the corner. “Come on!”
I look to Briar, who merely shrugs.
Millie holds out her hand, dragging me toward the shed the moment I take it. There’s no sign of the other girls, but rummaging sounds come from within, stopping the moment Millie brings me into the entryway.
I freeze in place.
Dropping my hand, Millie rushes to join the other girls. Briar’s strong hands squeeze my shoulders, guiding me inside the shed. Our daughters watch me expectantly, beaming with pride.
“You always brushed this place off as full of junk and told me not to come in here,” I say, nudging my mate in the ribs with my elbow. The girls giggle wildly as a smile spreads across my face.
Easels and canvases rest against one wall, with shelves and shelves of brushes and palettes and other art supplies. Paints are in neat rows, organized by color. “Taylor, did you do that?”
“Of course,” she replies, lifting her chin with pride.
Lilliana spins the narrow bookshelf, filled with all my favorites from home and a handful of new ones. Beside it is a lush high-back chair covered in a foxglove pattern.
I drink in every detail, and when my attention lands on the last wall where three paintings hang, tears prick the backs of my eyes.
One is Charlotte’s from my apartment’s entryway.
It’s next to a piece I did for my first lesson at Painting Hope, and the final canvas is a beautiful bouquet of bunny prints.
“Our very first piece.” I gesture at the painting their father helped me with back when I was alive and he was just a sweet bunny in my care. My voice is barely above a whisper.
“What do you think?” Briar asks, hugging his arms around my waist from behind me. The girls take that as their cue to join, flanking me from all angles for a family hug.
“It’s perfect.” My throat’s thick with emotion as I scan over the space. There’s so much to take in, so much tending to admire. “So much love in one small space.”
Millie gives me an extra squeeze, her cheek smooshed against my side. “We wanted you to have a special place to rejuvenate, and to show you how much we missed you.”
“Even though we know you could feel our tugs,” Juniper says.
“From the invisible ivy,” Taylor clarifies. “We all felt yours.”
“Of course you did. You have no idea how much I missed you all.” I bend, giving each of them a hug and kiss on the temple. “Thank you for doing this. I love it, and I love you all.”
Standing up, I wrap my arms around Briar’s neck and kiss him, the bond buzzing contentedly between us.
“Now can we show her everything else?” Juni asks her dad, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Of course.” He chuckles. “I’ll get started on dinner.”
We have grilled cheese and tomato soup while the girls show me the various projects they’ve been working on before Claire and Davis arrive. They’re taking their granddaughters and giving us privacy as solstice begins.
“Congrats on the new gig,” Davis says, pulling me in for a hug.
“Thank you.” The words come out raspy, my throat dry along with my skin from the months of work in the mortal world.
“Art therapy will be such a beneficial addition to our curriculum,” Claire chimes in with a smile I can’t help but return.
In my off seasons, I’ll be doing art therapy sessions at the Conservatory and Sprouts School.
While they’ll focus on the students, they’ll also be open to the rest of the Blooms. And I’ll be able to see Briar and the girls each day when I’m not away delivering spring once a year.
I’m in no rush to gain more flourish marks.
“I’m looking forward to having her there,” Briar says, the corner of his mouth curving upward. He puts his arm around me and hands me a glass of water. I begin chugging it immediately. “You should see the meticulous lesson plans Professor Monroe has been working on.”
I splutter out some water, and the air sweetens as I zip my thighs together, recalling the last time he used the title—knelt beneath my desk, my skirt hiked up, meticulously distracting me from those very same lesson plans.
Briar’s parents give me a knowing smile, and I drain the glass and excuse myself to help the girls finish packing.
I take my time giving each of my daughters hugs and kisses goodbye while Briar runs me a bath. I don’t bother holding back my tears in front of him when they leave. In grief, rage, sorrow, and joy—he loves me through every season.
Unconditionally and in every iteration.