Oscar D grappled with the chair and pressed it into a tiny version of itself, which he slid into his pocket. Sophie Mae folded the blanket in half, then into thirds. He thrust it into the other pocket where it disappeared.
“Right then. How do we return to Gardenia House?” Oscar D asked.
“We can try the box. I’ve used it three times now, and it has worked perfectly, though I’m not sure it works with two people.”
Oscar D crinkled his lip in thought before displaying a more confident gaze. “Today seems an excellent time to try.”
“If you’re sure? Stand next to me. Yes, that should work. Oh, and when you travel by box, you get a strange tingling in your toes.” Sophie Mae lifted the lid. “Gardenia House, here we come.”
Oscar D shoved his hands into his pockets and grimaced, unsure what to expect. Through thin slits, he looked around the farmhouse. “That wasn’t so bad, but we didn’t get very far.”
“Madrosa!” Sophie Mae yelled, and with a flash of light, they disappeared from the house. Oscar D gasped and held Sophie Mae with both hands.
“We’re almost there. Right now we’re in the box where I store my documents.”
Oscar D released a single hand, taking in the curious site. “I always wondered how being in my pocket felt?”
“I thought you only carried household stuff.”
“Well, one time George and I had a bet. He swore it would never work, but Leggy fit just fine in my pocket. I made a pretty penny that day.”
Sophie Mae snorted and laughed, distracted from warning Oscar D as the box transformation started.
“Whoa!”
“Just give it a moment,” Sophie Mae assured.
Dust devils swirled passed them flinging rocks and dry sticks close to their bodies. A drought-laden road lay before them with a fork at the end.
“What do we do? We can’t stay here or we’ll die.”
“We choose. This path leads to Gardenia while the other leads to the train station. The box seems to keep a record of where I travel, which hasn’t been very far. Are you ready?”
Locking elbows, they hobbled against the winds to the Gardenia side of the fork. Another flash and the pair landed near the garden fountain.
“Are you okay, Oscar D?”
“No problem, like a stroll through the park in a hurricane.”
Oscar D needed a brief rest to steady his head before they hurried along the path to the cottage. He tiptoed to the back room where Myrt slept like an angel resting her wings.
“You should get some rest,” Sophie Mae said. “I’ll keep watch over Myrt so you can regain your strength.”
“I couldn’t let you. It isn’t appropriate for a young lady.”
“That’s not true. I’ve been a nurse once before, and I’ll be fine. It’s only a few hours. Nothing will happen in a few hours.”
Oscar D sulked to the couch, pulling the blanket from his pocket. “It’ll delight Myrt to see you. I believe you’ve been good for her and the others.”
Sophie Mae tucked him in and walked to the bedroom. Floral curtains outlined the window and framed the orange trumpet vine spreading along a chicken-wire fence outside. Seated on the edge of the feathery bed, she laid her palm on Myrt’s forearm, testing for a fever.
In the kitchen, Sophie Mae soaked a small rag in a fresh bucket of cool water, daydreaming of Grandma Hattie’s last days. ‘Don’t fuss over me,’ the older woman would say. ‘Death is the natural order of things. I’ve taught you everything you need to survive without me. Now, go feed the chickens before they invade the house!’
Sophie Mae padded to the back room and placed the cool cloth along Myrt’s forehead, stirring her awake. “Oscar D found you,” she said. “Where’s he at?”
“Resting on the couch.”
“Good, the man never sleeps anymore. It happens when you get old. Loads of time, nothing to do.”
“Do you need anything? Are you cold?” Sophie Mae didn’t give her time to answer. “You’ll take the new potion, won’t you?”
“I’m not sure. When I received the first potion, I had to decide if I should put my needs above my children and grandchildren. I still receive letters and have wavered about whether I should write back to them, but, as you can see, my selfishness has won over and put the rest of the house in danger. I don’t regret seeing my grandson, at least not as much as I thought I would. To push him away again would be painful.”
Sophie Mae sat Myrt up and lifted a cup of tea to her lips. Heavy coughs drew tears as the warm liquid irritated her throat. Sophie Mae placed the drink on the nightstand while Myrt laid back on her pillows.
Myrt’s paleness and growing number of dark spots proved her time had sped up. I have to keep busy, no reason to doddle. Soup, yes. I’ll make her vegetable soup to give her a boost of energy.
Later that evening, Sophie Mae carried the molded wooden tray with both hands. A small bowl of soup, a plate of square-shaped crackers, and a warm cup of peppermint tea barely fit. Sophie Mae hand-picked the peppermint leaves from the herb garden, believing the invigorating drink would lift Myrt’s spirit.
Sophie Mae set the tray on the nightstand and tested her temperature once more. No change.
Myrt’s lids twitched as she sniffed the creamy vegetable soup as Sophie Mae held it near her pale lips. “It’s been a while since I’ve had food. Do you suppose it’d be okay on my body?”
“I don’t see the harm, since you’re free of the potion. Besides, you need your strength.”
Myrt leaned into the spoon. “Umm. So good. I forgot how delicious vegetables tasted.”
“My grandma taught me how to cook, but there were rarely any ingredients. Most nights, I had rock soup.”
“Ah, the old broth trick. It’ll do in a pinch but gets tiresome. If you stay here, you’ll never have an empty stomach.”
“I don’t think I belong here. My heart is still in Drycrop, my home.”
“The best thing about hearts is they can change, and often do! You might find it wants new adventures and maybe a family.” Sophie Mae kept her silence and spooned the soup, but Myrt gently stopped her advancing hand.
“Do you think I could have a bite of cake?” Myrt grinned. “Chocolate, if we have it.”
“I don’t see why not? I’ll be right back.”
Myrt grabbed Sophie Mae’s hand before she could scuttle away. “Thank you for being here, for Oscar D, I mean. He’ll have a tough time when I’m gone.”
Sophie Mae glanced over Myrt’s face, trying to burn her image into her mind until her warm smile sank, and she took on an irritated squint. “Go on, girl. The cake!” Laughter burst from the two of them. Myrt stopped. “Go now. I’ve not much time. Bring the entire cake if you can manage.”
Lurking in the kitchen, her senses heightened like a soldier canvasing a strange land. Sophie Mae hadn’t announced her return to the estate where her relationships stretched thin. I hope no one sees me, I hope no one sees me!
She scoured the counters and checked the icebox, but there wasn’t any chocolate cake. On the corner of the long island cooled a fresh batch of blueberry muffins. This will have to do for now.
The clicking of the dining room door had her ducking into the pantry. Ms. Ruby scowled, grabbing the used rags piled on the counter and tossing them into her basket. She stopped, and Sophie Mae scooted to the back corner of the pantry.
“Hello?” Ms. Ruby asked. “Billy, Dink? Are you there?” Without an answer, she left the kitchen the same way she entered.
Sophie Mae slunk from the pantry and raced along the path back to the cottage. She peeked into the room where George stood next to Oscar D, who held Myrt’s trembling hand.
“The new potion’s ready for you,” George said. “I’m not sure what will happen. You must decide to take it or not.”
“Another potion,” Myrt said. “The last one was a doozy. What do you think, Oscar D?”
“What’s the harm in trying?”
Myrt held out her hand for the vial. Throwing her head back, she downed the bottle and thumped it on the nightstand. Both men held their breath. Nothing happened. She didn’t disappear or even fade in the slightest.
“I don’t feel any different.”
“I can try again. Yes. I’ll have something new by morning,” George said, bumping into Sophie Mae, still hiding behind the door. “Glad to see you’re back. Stay with them while I work in the lab.”
Myrt pulled Oscar D close and whispered. “Don’t worry about me.” Her grip loosened, and her head drooped to the left. Sophie Mae rushed to the side of the bed and held Myrt’s wrist. Her pulse had stopped.
“Myrt…Myrt,” Oscar D said. “…I won’t.”
Sophie Mae laid her hand on Oscar D’s shoulder as tears puddled on his lower lashes. “I thought I’d never say goodbye. Myrt was the highlight of my life, my family. We haven’t been apart for more than five minutes in the last fifty years.”
“She was an amazing woman,” Sophie Mae said.
“That she was, that she was.”
In the rays of the setting sun, the entire household gathered in the garden near the rose mound. Neither her children nor grandchildren were present for the small ceremony, as Myrt requested. Her body lay on a wooden bed, layered with roses, as the Gardenia family sang a quiet hymn and lined up to say their goodbyes.
Mrs. Worthington approached the platform with her children. Dink caressed Myrt’s hand and returned to her mother’s open arms. Billy, wearing his best clip-on tie, carried a single dandelion. He laid the wildflower on her chest and whispered. “I promise to leave the hens alone.”
Ms. Ruby nodded her respects and followed the Worthington’s back to the house.
Oscar D leaned to Myrt’s face and rubbed her cheek. “I’ll see you around.” He gave her one final kiss and turned to George, patting the man on the back before slinking off to the cottage.
Sophie Mae stayed behind, taking in the surreal sight of George and Mr. Langston lowering Myrt into the small grave. Dirt hid the tragedy but didn’t conceal her pain. Death shadowed her, whether she lived in abject poverty or the grandness of the Gardenia House. She placed a blue rose on top of the mound.
“There was nothing you could’ve done,” George said.
Sophie Mae nodded and walked to the mansion. Her heart threatening to rip from her chest as she approached the third floor. Leaning her head against the door of the imagination room, she dredged up the day Grandma Hattie died. She entered the room and sat next to the gray-skinned woman who coughed and choked on her last few breaths.
“Don’t let this experience change who you are, what you dream,” Grandma Hattie’s face seized as she fought to control a cough. Sophie Mae wiped the spittle from her lips.
“I... I’ve raised you to live a…joyous life. Do this for me… I’ll pass into the next world a happy, old lady.”
Sophie Mae cried but not as hard as the first time she’d been unable to save her grandma. The pit of her stomach ached despite the comfort and direction her words had offered.
Time drifted close to midnight and Sophie Mae carried a gas lantern along the pebbled path to the Mayville cottage. The croaking of frogs and chirping of crickets reminded her of the beauty in the world.
She knocked on the cottage door, but no answer. Sophie Mae’s chest tightened, and she dashed around to the back of the house. Oscar D sat on one of two chairs made from carved tree trunks. Fireflies swarmed around him, bringing light to his darkness.
“It’s a beautiful evening,” he said. “The stars are out in full force.”
“Yes.” Sophie Mae placed the lantern on the ground. “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”
“Myrt cried like a baby in the maze, you know. At first, I apologized for upsetting her. Then I noticed the light in her eyes rekindled and burned like the day I first met her at the port. Maybe if I had kept the photos hidden, she’d never have gone to the coffee shop.”
Sophie Mae held the man’s hand.
“Time changes people,” Oscar D said. “From the first day you meet, the two of you blend your lives with outward things…music and favorite foods. But after the kids leave home, you take stock of what’s left. You’re not back where you started. You’re older and, despite all your experiences, know less than you once did.”
“Confusion of what you’ve become and the goals you sacrificed sets you on a road of self-discovery. A separation of sorts takes place…You find joy outside of each other. But that deep connection forged over a lifetime of struggles and victories holds the two of you together and promises you’ll never be alone.”
“I reminded Myrt of this as we walked through the maze together. By the end, she realized that the connection between us had blossomed despite our age and outward appearance. Like magic, her missing reflection became less of a problem and more of an inconvenience.”
“You should get some rest now,” Sophie Mae said. “Myrt wouldn’t want you to stay up all night.”
“You’re right about that. There was no end to her barking about my terrible habits.”
Oscar D hobbled to his feet, and his steady pace carried him to the cottage. He lingered in the doorway, lost in his thoughts.
She kissed the older man on the forehead. “Good night, Mr. Mayville.” Sophie Mae closed the door.
She lifted her lantern and started for the house. The light from the small flame kept her from straying into the thorn bushes. I hope Mr. Mayville finds light for his new path.