CHAPTER NINE
Mid-autumn was always a busy season in the vegetable garden.
I yanked another radish out of the ground, adding it to the colorful pile of leafy greens, red peppers, and yellow squash decorating my basket.
Another plentiful harvest. Even my tomatoes were still ripening on the vine.
And they looked delectable. Reaching over, I plopped the juiciest specimen into my mouth, savoring the explosion of flavor when I crunched down.
A contented sigh escaped. There was nothing quite like the reward of seeing all my labor culminate in a successful harvest.
I surveyed my garlic next, yellow with dry leaves.
Ready to be picked and later braided. I added harvesting the garlic to the increasingly long list of tasks I planned to complete before the first frost of the year.
There were crops to store in the root cellar, herbs to bundle and hang from its ceiling, plant beds to clear of debris, seeds to dry and label for future planting, weeds to be pulled, mulch to be spread to nurture the soil, berry bushes to be pruned back. The list went on and on and on—
I should probably start scaling back the garden some now that Kaylin isn’t coming back.
A raven swooped low, catching my attention.
Corvin. It took me slightly aback that I could recognize him so easily, already adept at telling him apart from the other ravens living on the island.
I looked down at my arm, conspicuously missing its sling.
A week passed since we last talked, and during that time my arm fully healed.
We had spoken once in the mirror when I told him I’d finally managed to light the lampposts on the island.
A small prickle of guilt ran down my spine that I hadn’t contacted him again to cancel our plans after realizing my arm was doing so much better.
But he’d sounded so happy for me about the lampposts, and his interest in helping me to resolve his father’s debt seemed genuine, so perhaps I didn’t need to feel too terribly guilty about inviting him back to winterize the garden with me.
Corvin shifted the moment his feet touched land, walking in my direction.
He wore a plain black tunic and pants, simple attire that was appropriate for working outdoors.
Sitting on my knees in the dirt, I peered up at him as he approached, shielding my eyes from the sun.
“You grow all of this yourself?” he asked, crouching down next to me, and running a hand over the leaves of the closest plant.
“That’s impressive.” He looked at me sideways.
“I’m glad to see your arm is feeling better. ”
I stood up, knees muddy and fingernails caked in dirt, beckoning him away from the garden.
“Thanks for coming back. Here, I want to show you something.” I led him to the front of the cottage, pointing out the dark green vines growing there, bestowed on me by the Green Man.
They were thriving, which was a relief. Yet, their identity remained a mystery.
No blooms. I supposed they could be a non-flowering plant, but I was still holding out hope for something wondrous…
“Do you want to work on constructing a trellis for the Green Man’s vines?” I asked. “There’s wood and supplies in the garden shed. I’d like to lean a trellis against each side of the cottage wall, so the vines will climb upward instead.”
His response was enthusiastic. “I think I can handle that. I’ll help you with your weeding afterward.”
When Corvin eventually rejoined me in the garden, we knelt close by one another, silently focused on removing weeds.
His large, powerful hands effortlessly dug into the soil, using the garden trowel I loaned him.
Sweat trickled down the side of his face, plastering his midnight-black hair, which usually looked windswept, back into place.
We worked together for an hour, making steady progress.
Corvin leaned over, plucking the weed in front of me.
“Hey!” I laughed, reaching over him to return the weed to my own growing pile.
He grinned. “Oh, sorry. Was that one yours?”
I brandished my garden trowel at him. “No cheating, or you’ll never repay your debt to me.
” I sat up on my knees, wiping the sweat from my brow.
“About that… You told me it’s your fault your father is sick.
And that’s why you decided to take on his debts for him.
What did you mean? You mentioned he’s been sick ever since your childhood, so I wasn’t sure. ”
The light went out of Corvin’s eyes, his smile slipping.
“It’s my fault he’s sick because…” He turned his face away from me, a noticeable quiver in his voice when he continued.
“It’s my fault he’s sick because it’s my fault my mother died, and she meant everything to him.
I will never forget the noise he made when he found her body and realized she was gone.
” Corvin pierced the dirt with his trowel.
“His illness started right around that time.”
“Oh.” I pressed a hand to his shoulder, holding it there. “That sounds awful.”
“You can’t trust everyone you meet. People can deceive you. And some secrets shouldn’t be revealed.”
I removed my hand, digging my trowel into the soil to hide my reaction.
Could I trust him? Or was there a double meaning to his words that I would be wise to take to heart?
He blamed himself for losing his mother, but surely no child could be held responsible for such a tragedy, even if he hadn’t opened up about the exact circumstances of her death.
Corvin yanked his weed out of the soil with extreme force, sprinkling us both with dirt.
He set down his trowel. “Oops. Sorry.”
“No problem,” I said, brushing the dirt off my tunic and continuing to weed.
I looked up to find Corvin watching me. “You have some dirt on your face.”
I wiped my face against my tunic, and he laughed. “Here, let me.”
He scootched closer to me, using a single thumb to gently brush the dirt off my cheek. I peered up at him, the soft touch of his thumb leaving a warm mark on my skin as my heart began to race in my chest. Corvin swallowed thickly, looking down at my face, before returning to his spot in the garden.
“Thank you,” I softly exhaled, my breath unsteady.
“What do you like to do for fun?” Corvin asked lightheartedly.
“Gardening is fun,” I replied. “It’s a lot of work, but it’s also rewarding. How about you?”
“Lately? Whatever everybody tells me I should be doing.”
“Hmm, then perhaps I should apologize for putting you to work.”
He flashed me a grin. “I could be convinced to play instead.”
My heart hammered faster. “What did you have in mind?”
“I think we should take a break,” Corvin declared, tossing another weed aside. “And swim in the lake.”
A bead of sweat trickled down my brow. “A break? There’s still so much to do…”
Corvin stretched, and I realized my own body had grown stiff from kneeling in the dirt for so long. “No, you’re right. We should be done for the day. I don’t want to be the reason you strain your back.”
A small, suggestive smile danced around his mouth. “No, we wouldn’t want that.” A blush spread across my cheeks, and I did my best to ignore the desire blossoming through my body as he offered me a hand, pulling me to a standing position. “What do you say? Should we wash away some of this dirt?”
I nodded. “Alright.”
We headed down toward the lakeshore. Typically, I would wash in the lake naked. That was certainly not my current plan. I glanced at Corvin, thinking about what it would be like if it were my plan and he decided to join me, stripping off his clothes and jumping into the water right alongside me—
“I…I might just put my feet into the water instead,” I said, abruptly sitting down.
His gaze bore into mine. “I’ll join you,” he assented, taking a seat next to me at the water’s edge.
I curled my feet into the sand as we sat staring out at the lake, its waters lapping at the shore. Was it the tranquility of the lake making me feel so calm, or Corvin’s presence by my side? I relaxed, savoring the warmth of the beach.
“What’s next?” he asked me, swirling his feet into the water. “Now that you’ve lit your lampposts?”
“If I want to help people again, then I need to find a way to repopulate moonstones in the realm.”
“Repopulate?”
“Fiere the phoenix told me they’re hard to find these days.”
“You want to be like your predecessors then? You’re not scared of the responsibility? Of having people rely so heavily upon you? I just…I just think that would make me feel trapped. And yet here you are, relentlessly pursuing the opportunity.”
I thought a moment before answering. “Not having a sense of purpose in life—that’s a trap too. It can leave you just as stuck, just as stagnate. I want something in my life worth fighting for. That’s what’s going to keep me moving forward. A trap? For me, it’s a compass.”
“Mmm. You sound so sure. It makes me hopeful. I mean to say, I find it inspiring to be around.”