30. Mister Plants
THIRTY
MISTER PLANTS
Sentimentality is an oft-overlooked aspect of shifter nature, and there’s no shame in it. A true gentleman knows he need not always be stoic. Embracing vulnerability is a source of strength, fostering deeper empathy with others.
By acknowledging and sharing your feelings, you not only connect more deeply but also invite others to do the same, forging bonds that transcend both species and form.
–EXCERPT FROM THE METAMORPHIC MAN: A GENTLEMAN SHAPESHIFTER’S GUIDE TO CULTURED CONDUCT
Later that evening, Arthur and Maida sat on the broad wooden rocking chairs on the front porch, drinking steaming mugs of cocoa and nibbling at the cookies that Rosie had baked before taking off to see some of her local friends.
“She wasn’t kidding!” Maida exclaimed, dunking a spicy snickerdoodle into her mug. “Rosie really is an accomplished baker. I can’t believe she just whipped these up.”
“She’s so happy just to be here. You have no idea.” Arthur smiled. “Staying here for her—for really any magical kid—is like having the run of an entire theme park.”
“My father rented out a theme park for me on one of my birthdays,” Maida admitted. “It was kind of overrated. Especially with my father making a point of explaining exactly how every illusion and magical effect was achieved.”
Her face was sad for an instant, and Arthur recalled the strict rules he had been forced to memorize before accompanying his father to work.
And the consequences for letting that facade slip.
Still, Maida had never been sent away. She’d been pampered and cosseted, kept safe from all trauma. He couldn’t say the same for himself.
Arthur’s teen years abroad had been rough.
His education at the overpriced boarding school for shifters had been anything but easy.
He had physical scars and mental ones. In shifter schools, everything was a battle for dominance.
Plus, you still had to get the grades to attend university.
His poor relations in Ireland never took a shine to him and resented the idea of having to buy extra holiday gifts.
So Arthur spent his weekends and holidays alone, studying for exams and mastering his gifts.
It was why he’d excelled in his academic career.
But there was a cost. He’d been so isolated. He’d chosen differently for Rosie.
Arthur didn’t want to think about that now.
He rocked slowly and then turned back towards Maida, who was wrapped up in a hideous floral afghan.
She held her hands to either side of the mug she was holding, as if to warm them.
The night was chilly, but not so much to Arthur.
He didn’t get cold as easily as most folk.
“There’s something I’ve been dying to ask you about,” he admitted. “Tell me about that stuffed animal you had back at your father’s house? The stag?”
“Mr. Pants?” Maida blushed. “I don’t know why Granny’s always making a thing about him.
Apparently, I was obsessed with the toy as a kid.
Refused to go anywhere without it. Everyone was terrified about the prospect of it getting lost. My father even tried to have a backup made but I spied that counterfeit right away and wasn’t having any of it. Nothing but the real Mr. Pants for me!”
“Absolutely.” Arthur couldn’t help but release a corner of the smile he was holding back. “Anything else would be a travesty. But how did it come to be yours?”
“Actually?” Maida’s brow creased, and she gazed skyward, as if extracting a missing memory from the stars. “I think it was your father who gave him to me!”
“Is that so?” Arthur raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.” Maida shrugged. “I’m sorry. I can’t recall the occasion.
I was only four or five. I didn’t know your dad well, but for some reason I really, really loved that toy.
He was my favorite for years. I even brought him to college with me.
Don’t tease me. Every kid has one of those special toys, don’t they? ”
“The lucky ones do.” Arthur swallowed. He had been somewhat lucky till he’d been sent away. “I did, at least for a time.”
Maida studied him. “I’m having a hard time picturing you as a child, Arthur Hart. Even as a boy, when I think back on it, you seemed more like a man to me.”
Arthur sighed.
“Well, I assure you, I was a boy, and a fairly sentimental one at that. I was very attached to my stuffie as well. His name was Mister Plants.”
Arthur had actually named the toy after his own father. Back when Reggie was still a hero in his eyes.
“Mr. Plants?” Maida made a quizzical face. “That’s so funny. It’s so close…”
“Yes. Well, I suppose the fact that you were only four or five exonerates you,” Arthur interrupted her. “I’m sure you had no idea that you were accepting stolen goods.”
“Pardon?” Maida stopped rocking and sat up straight. She set down her mug on the side table. The afghan slipped off her shoulder. Arthur tugged it gently back up.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask for him back. I’m just glad to know he found a new home with you. I was afraid my father threw him away after I left for boarding school.”
“Mr. Pants is Mister Plants?” Maida gathered the afghan back around her shoulders. She shook her head as if trying to make sense of it.
“It’s okay that you changed his name.” Arthur nodded. “You had primary custody at the time.”
“I’m not so sure I did change it, at least not intentionally. I couldn’t say my l’s.” Maida retrieved her mug, took a sip and set it back down. “So your father gave me your toy? Why?”
Arthur had been wondering the same thing. He’d suspected as much the moment he saw the toy, but he still couldn’t fathom why or how Maida had come to be in possession of his childhood bed partner.
“We may never know.” Arthur sighed. “But I guess in a weird way, it makes us related. I mean, we’ve both slept with the same guy.”
Maida swatted him playfully. “Very funny.”
He was only half joking, though. He felt so close to Maida, and the connection felt so natural, despite being so difficult to explain.
“I’d like to be more than your solicitor, Maida. I’d like to be your friend,” he said.
Off in one of the trees, an owl screeched. Maida startled, knocking the table and spilling some of the cocoa left in her mug.
“It’s okay.” Arthur reached out a hand to steady her. He could feel her pulse throbbing beneath his fingertips. “You’re okay.”
“I’m sorry.” Maida took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s all so unfamiliar. This whole place. I feel like…I don’t know what’s safe. I don’t know who or what’s real anymore.”
“I’m real.” Arthur gave her shoulder a squeeze. “And I’m here to keep you safe. As your solicitor and as your friend. You can ask me anything.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, staring into the dark night beyond.
He reached out and placed a finger gently under her chin, drawing her face back toward his. “Look at me, Maida. I’m an open book. I will not lie to you about anything.”
He might, however, omit the truth about how delicious her slightly parted lips looked to him right now.
It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss her in the moonlight.
He could well imagine the taste of cinnamon and chocolate lingering in their mingled breath and the smell of fall leaves and distant fires.
Now it was his turn to pull away. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair.
“Are we really safe here?” Maida asked quietly. “After what happened to my great aunt and to that wizard, Zephyr?”
“I think we are probably safer here than anywhere else,” Arthur said. “But,” he conceded, “I won’t lie to you and say there’s no danger. We don’t know exactly what happened here. And that is also part of why I’m here. The Society isn’t finished with their investigation.”
“I have a million more questions about that,” Maida admitted. “Have you met the director, Amrita Berman?”
“I have.” Arthur smiled. “She’s a formidable witch.”
“And my godmother, apparently. She was my mother’s college roommate.”
“So I’ve been told.” Arthur nodded. “She’s very excited to meet you.
She’s coming here next week to perform a ritual to help the town council of elders decide what to do with Zephyr’s remains.
Honestly, I don’t think she needed to be the one to come for that.
She could have sent someone else. I think she wanted to see you.
I’m sure you’ll have many questions for her as well. ”
Maida considered this for a moment, and nodded. She pulled the blanket closer around herself.
“So what’s the story with Zephyr? Has nobody claimed his remains? Why can’t he be buried?” She cocked her head considering this. “Or cremated? I’m not sure what’s customary with magical folk.”
“Of course not,” Arthur rocked slowly, “why would you be?” He scooted his chair closer to hers and explained the situation.
“Witch and wizard bodies usually transform to dust as their souls are released. It can happen in an instant, or sometimes it might take up to a day. But it never takes this long.”
“Poor Zephyr,” Maida shook her head. “Do you think his soul is in limbo?”
“Nobody knows.” Arthur shrugged. “It’s never happened.”
“And what about Minerva?” Maida asked. “Do you think she’s?—”
Maida didn’t get to finish the thought because at that moment Will Porter threw open the front door.
He had a box of items from Maida’s apartment under one arm.
In his other hand, he held a scraggly succulent that was covered with enormous furry black blooms. He was holding it as far away from himself as possible.
“I grabbed the things you wanted, Mayday!” he announced.
“And Addy insisted I take this weird plant of yours too. But whew…does it ever stink! Hot garbage!” He set the box and the plant down next to her and flopped into one of the empty chairs.
“That neighbor of yours sure is a talker. Asked me a million questions about you. Oh, and she sent a card.” Will pointed to an envelope stuck in the pot.
“You should probably write back to her with your dad’s address. She asked where to forward your mail.”
Maida reached for the note, and Arthur shot out a hand to stop her.
“I don’t think you should open that,” he warned. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a bad feeling.
Maida swiped the envelope away. “Addy is annoying, but she’s harmless. I think it’s sweet that she asked about me.”
Arthur frowned. Something about that plant unsettled him.
Maida opened the envelope and drew out the card, which was decorated with flowers and a sad-looking cartoon kitten.
“I think I ought to take that plant downwind a bit,” Arthur said.
“I think I should take it a lot further than that. Is there anyone you hate whose house I could drop it off at? Preferably on another continent?” Will waved a hand.
“Don’t you dare!” Maida objected. She lifted the pot protectively.
“It isn’t the stapelia’s fault it smells so awful.
It’s just growing pains. She’ll be back to normal in a couple of weeks.
” She placed the pot by the front steps, talking quietly to the plant “Don’t worry, we’ll find a nice spot for you tomorrow. ”
“Hey, what did Addy’s note say?” Will asked as Maida as she collected their mugs to bring them inside.
“Nothing much,” Maida answered. “Just that she broke up with the guy she’s been seeing and that she missed me.”