Girl of the Night Garden

As for myself…

Well, I can’t keep my eyes off her, even when Timon knees me under the table at dinner and hisses beneath his breath, “Watch out. Or you’ll be talking about sheep and babies before you know it!”

I grin and elbow his ribs. “Hush and pass the bread, scamp.”

“I’m a rascal, not a scamp.” Timon laughs and reaches for the plate. “But you should be careful,” he adds in a whisper. “If my mother realizes you’re in love, she’ll never leave you alone together. My sisters weren’t allowed even to go on a walk alone with a boy until they were married.”

I force my gaze away from Clara and grab another slice of warm-from-the-oven heaven. It’s the best bread I’ve ever had. The best fish and braised greens, too.

Or maybe everything just tastes better because I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.

Alive and full of plans…

I have to talk to Clara. Alone. As soon as possible.

After dinner, we help Mrs. Barolo clear the table and wash the dishes, while Timon puts the animals up for the night. When he returns, Adrina fetches a set of dominoes from the bookshelf in the corner and we play until Timon begins to yawn and excuses himself to crawl up into his loft above the main room.

“I’m tired, too,” Adrina says, her fist pressed to her lips. “How about you, Clara? Ready for bed? I’ll let you have the warm side, away from the window.”

I try to catch Clara’s eye, to signal that she should stay here, have a cup of tea or something with me until the others are asleep and we can put our heads together and come up with a plan, but she’s already nodding to Adrina. “Sleep sounds wonderful. But you should have the warm side. I’m always hot at night.”

Adrina smiles. “Perfect. My sister Sera was, too. It will feel like old home times with a coal in my bed to keep my toes from freezing.”

“Let me know if you need more blankets,” Mrs. Barolo says as I rise from my chair, trying not to feel too disappointed. There’s always tomorrow. Clara and I will have time to talk then. Like Adrina said, the ship capable of taking us home won’t be here for weeks.

“It gets cold at night,” Adrina’s mother adds. “Even in the summer.”

“Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m hot-blooded, too.” I smile at her before lifting a hand to Adrina and Clara. “See you in the morning.”

“Sleep well, Declan.” Adrina flutters her fingers my way.

Clara’s lip twitch again and her eyes sparkle into mine. “Yes, sleep well.”

But out in the barn, with the lantern Mrs. Barolo lent me turned down low and my weary body cocooned in blankets, sleep remains a million miles away.

I’m exhausted, but my headache is finally gone, and my thoughts have never been more restless.

I stare out the opening at the far end of the loft, watching the stars swirl, connecting the dots to form the familiar forms of gods and warriors and monsters cast up into the sky by heroes from long ago. I wonder if Clara knows the old stories. If not, I’d like to share them with her, spin her a tale while we lie on a blanket side by side under the stars, the way my father and I did when I was small.

But this time I wouldn’t fall asleep and need to be shaken awake and carried home in my father’s arms. I would stay awake and hold Clara’s hand, memorizing every moment alone with her, knowing that no matter how many I get, I’ll always want more.

At the back of my mind, I hear Professor Proctor’s voice, droning that the highest love in a man’s life should be between his eternal soul and his God, but I don’t feel guilty for feeling things for Clara I’ve never felt in church.

If God didn’t want us to love other people like this, he wouldn’t have made falling in love feel so amazing. I’m still buzzing from the magic of Clara’s kiss hours later, still awake and listening hard enough to hear the soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel path outside.

Unrolling myself from my blankets, I creep across the hay-littered boards to peer out the opening. There’s no moon tonight, but the stars are bright, and Clara’s skin is so pale it practically makes its own light.

She’s wearing a white nightgown, but her arms and face are more vivid, making it easy to track her movements as she hurries up the path.

My stomach hardens into a knot, and all my blanket-warmed blood sinks to my feet, leaving me shivering.

Where is she going? And why?

Is she leaving without me? Surely not. Not after that kiss. Not after the way she looked at me all night—like she couldn’t believe magic like this existed, either.