Chapter 7
Seven
Veda isn’t late for her tutoring session with Antaris, but she will be if she doesn’t leave the greenhouse now.
She finds Antaris alone in the cafeteria, tidy as usual in his uniform and bow tie.
His book bag is on the seat beside him, lunch box on the table, jacket on the back of his chair.
She observes until he lifts his head. That’s her cue.
Pushing open the door, she lets in a breeze with her entrance.
It’s been just over a month since Antaris came into her life, and each session reinforces the quiet rhythm they’ve found together.
Veda isn’t sure who’s helping whom more.
“Hello there.”
That gets his attention, until his eyes drop to her side. In her haste, Veda forgot to drop off the lavender sprigs meant for the school’s stores. She sits beside him and places them on the table.
His eyes never leave.
“Do you like plants?”
He taps the table twice. Yes.
“These are just some stems that broke off, but there are plenty more ready to go in the ground.” She’s not one for interpreting his silence, but his open awe is easy to translate. “I can take you to the garden, and we can plant the rest together.”
Antaris nearly jumps to his feet.
Veda cracks a slow smile, tucking the lavender away and leading him out of the cafeteria. Outside, he grows cautious and unsure, trailing behind. She glances encouragingly over her shoulder. “Come on.”
He dashes back inside before she can stop him. Confused, Veda waits until he returns, umbrella in hand.
“Oh, it’s going to rain later. I suppose we can’t be too prepared.” Before she can talk herself out of it, she offers her hand. He doesn’t take it but walks beside her, close yet distant.
His eyes roam curiously over the animals. The trees. The sky. Watching him, Veda notices his bow tie is now crooked. She reaches to fix it, but panic plays across his face. “I’m sorry, I should have asked first. May I?”
He holds her gaze, then slowly nods. Veda carefully adjusts the bow tie while he bends his head down as best as he can to watch. It’s twisted around the back, so she fixes it under his collar. He’s slow to relax, careful to move.
“There you go,” she murmurs. “Is this your favorite? It’s the only one I’ve seen you wear.” When he nods, Veda smiles. “Well, I like it, too. Whoever made it is talented.”
The bottom of her heart drops when Antaris’s eyes water. He turns away to hide his face, and his broken whimper tells Veda she’s made a mistake and unearthed his pain.
The bow tie. His mother must have made it.
His shoulders shake with each ragged breath as he fights to keep inside what desperately wants out.
Silence amplifies his grief, shaking her to the core as she watches him struggle, fighting it .
. . until Veda whispers his name, reminding him that he’s not alone.
With red cheeks and wet eyes, he starts to back away but freezes when she calls him again.
Lips quivering, he scrubs his tears away with clenched fists, and hides his face again.
“Can I help?” The urge to do something, to reach for him, give this hurting child the comfort he so desperately needs. But he shakes his head.
“Okay. We’ll stay here until you’re ready. Take as long as you need.”
Antaris sinks to his knees, gazing at the sky. She’s done the same countless times before, but when she joins him, she wonders if it’s for the same reason.
“My parents are gone. Like your mom,” Veda says gently.
The heartbreak in his eyes steals her breath.
“We spent every summer riding around the country in an old camper van because my parents loved road trips. I used to hate it, always complaining because I wanted to stay home. When I was sixteen, I was swimming in a lake we were parked by while they were grilling lunch. One moment they were there, the next . . . gone. Vanished. Like so many others.”
When she feels a small hand on hers, Veda smiles sadly.
“I haven’t stopped missing them, just like you haven’t stopped missing your mom.
Some days are easier. Some aren’t. The worst is forgetting the little things, so when that happens, I look to the sky, because even though I can’t see them, I know they’re still with me—woven into the Cosmos. Your mom, too.”
Antaris nods in teary understanding, eyes not leaving the sky. Veda doesn’t realize her own eyes are wet until her vision blurs. The breeze dries their cheeks as the sun peeks out once the clouds roll on. It feels like hours pass before Antaris stands.
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
He nods slowly, then points, as if asking her the same.
“I’m sure.” Veda points toward their destination. “Let’s go.”
The garden swells with freshly planted life. Veda hangs his umbrella on the gate latch while Antaris wanders between rows of fruits, vegetables, and herbs.
Raised beds line four grassy aisles leading to the greenhouses.
Flowering bushes border the fences that enclose the garden.
Veda lingers near the entrance, watching as Antaris looks around with his hands behind his back.
Careful. Respectful. But when he reaches the bed with an assortment of camas, red columbines, and common yarrow wildflowers that are in full bloom, Veda joins him.
Still worried about his outburst, she puts on a brave face. “Do you like them?”
He doesn’t need to answer; his fascination is clear. It’s as if he’s trying to memorize the smallest details, examining them from every angle, but he doesn’t touch. Veda follows his lead, naming the flowers for him. “Each one was planted to bring in bees to help with pollination.”
Antaris turns, listening.
“Have you seen bees?”
His confirmation is still stilted, but she takes whatever she can get. Emboldened, she steers him to where her tools remain, but there’s only one pair of gloves. Veda turns to find Antaris waiting for her next move.
It’s one neither of them expects. She kneels before him, startling him back a step, and beckons him closer. “Gloves will protect your hands while we’re planting. They’re too big for you, but something is better than nothing.”
The standoff doesn’t last as long as she expects. Antaris takes one cautious step closer, then another, before finally holding out his hands.
“Next time, I’ll have a pair that fits you.”
Antaris’s expression doesn’t change, but with one oversized glove on, he points at her hand.
“Don’t worry, my hands are rough. They can take it.”
Apparently that isn’t it. He steps closer, eyes on her arm, head tilted. She doesn’t realize why until she notices the scars from her curse peeking out from under her sleeve. She quickly adjusts it. “It’s from a while ago. An accident.”
He frowns.
“I’m okay,” she lies gently, slipping on the second glove for him.
He won’t be able to grip much, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
Veda leads him to a half-dug hole and drops to her knees in the dirt.
Antaris stands beside her, watching intently.
She picks up the hand shovel and digs into the soft earth. “Do you want to plant this one?”
He nods.
Veda gestures for him to kneel like her. He does, nearly stumbling. Embarrassed, he settles and looks to her, waiting. She almost asks if he’s okay but decides against it. Loosening the soil, she pulls a lavender plant from its plastic pot and hands it over. “Right here.”
Antaris works with care, gently filling the hole with the surrounding dirt. They move to the next spot, and Veda grabs another baby lavender plant, starting to dig a new hole.
“Sometimes, when I feel nervous or scared, when everything feels too heavy, I come here. Watching things grow and change makes me feel better. Stronger. Planting, watering, and harvesting remind me that, no matter what, everything will be fine.”
Antaris listens, rapt.
“I’m out here more than I like to admit.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Cosmos, I’m unloading on a six-year-old.”
But he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s quietly taking it all in.
“You understand how I feel, don’t you?”
He taps the dirt twice.
“How about this? I’ll show you everything my mom taught me about gardening, and this place can be your reminder, too. Would you like that?”
He nods.
She looks around. “First, a bountiful garden needs planning. Everything works in harmony with nature, even if we don’t always see it.”
There’s more she could say, but emotions, too complicated to digest, make it hard. Abandoning the hand shovel, Veda digs into the earth. She usually wears gloves and can’t remember the last time she felt the soil between her fingers. Then another hand joins hers.
Antaris has removed the gloves, choosing to feel the cool soil, too. She hands him another lavender plant, and together they nestle it in the ground, then move to the next. This time, Veda slows him down, letting him focus on his hands.
When they finish, Veda offers a dirt-covered finger. “Better?”
He taps it twice.
Soil is the foundation of everything. Where life starts and returns. As Antaris stands among their work, gazing in awe, Veda wonders whether this garden might be a place where he can begin anew.
Veda allows herself to miss her parents the next afternoon when she’s alone.
Memories torment and soothe. Her mother taught her that despite the intrinsic fight for divergence, all things are connected. Evolved in nature’s womb, magic is the foundation of everything.
How a person wields magic means nothing in the greater universe.
Her father showed her how to call on celestial bodies to extract magic in precise quantities to fuse with earth’s creations: stones, gems, and metals. Never too much or too little. Never too fast or too slow. He often spoke of perspective and problem-solving, temperance and patience.
You don’t always need an answer. Without wonder and mystery, magic dies.