“They certainly put the B in bucolic here,” Rune comments as we drive down the private gravel-covered lane to Hummingbird Flower Farm. The narrow private road is lined on one side with apple trees full of tiny bright green fruit, the other side with dogwood trees carpeted with their small peachy pink blossoms. Both sides also host whimsical creatures made of rusty scrap metal, birds, bees, dragons, and hand painted signs on pieced of wood say, “this way” with arrows pointing to the parking lot near the old barn where Luna and Tom host their events and flower sales.
We pass the main house. It’s an old two-story wooden farmhouse similar to ours, complete with covered front porch. But it's a little smaller than our twin houses and looks like it belongs on a film set or a beloved childhood novel. It's painted the distinctive rusty orange of the vibrantly colored Rufous hummingbirds. The tiny creatures make this region home for part of the year. They’re particular favorites of both Pat and Luna.
“I wish our house was painted a bright color and we had a field of flowers in our front yard!” Lorelei exclaims as she and Butterscotch stick their heads out the window for a better look.
“That might not go with Jenna’s particularly blue-gray vision,” Rune says to me under his breath. I shoot him a warning look.
The house’s color goes well with the vibrant mix of flowers covering the front lawn and the darker red brick of the barn we’re now approaching.
“Marguerite and I are going to try our hands at turning our lawns into meadows,” I turn back to tell Lorelei, “Want to help us pick out the flowers this fall?”
“Absolutely,” Lorelei agrees enthusiastically.
“Wait! I’m not invited to chime in with my excellent color sense?” Rune asks, sounding slightly offended. With his sunglasses on I can’t tell if he’s joking.
“You’ll be in Victoria,” I say, where he’s going after he’s done watching Lorelei. His production office is headquartered there.
“I’ll only be three hours away,” he objects.
“Of course, we’d love your input, especially if you help convince Gunner to let us try it at your place as well,” Marguerite soothes his ruffled ego as we pull into the gravel parking lot, already quite filled with cars. We all wave at Luna, Tom, and other family members moving things into the barn, “Luna believes in the power of beauty as an advocacy tool, and the reasons we need to turn our lawns into meadows is a great conversation starter.”
“Smart,” Rune says, sounding mollified, and then turns to me as he opens his car door, “You didn’t use much of this setting for the ReWild fundraising video, did you?”
“No, only for two of the student interviews. We wanted to keep it real; most small farms aren’t such showpieces,” I tell him as I start to get out of the car, trying not to sound defensive.
“Hmmm…” he says, doing that weird flattening lips with side twist he does when pondering or perhaps disagreeing, but not wanting to say it out loud.
“What Luna’s convinced Tom and his family to let her do here, re-imagining this place over the past decade is nothing less than remarkable,” Marguerite continues to Rune and Lorelei as they get out of the car.
“So, what was it like before?” Rune asks, opening the back.
“An ordinary local blueberry farm,” Marguerite tells him, “The only whimsy was in Pat’s hand-painted signs and her husband’s metal sculptures.”
“We came and picked bags full of blueberries last year!” Lorelei chimes in, “Shelby made us such delicious muffins,” she’s doing her best to keep untangled from the dog’s leash, but Butterscotch is determined to wrap it around her legs in her excitement over being someplace new. One of the first things I’ll recommend when Gunnar and Rune finally say it’s okay to give Lorelei the dog is some leash training classes.
“I wondered why the freezer was full of nothing but blueberries when we got here,” Rune says as he hands me the sheet pan of chocolate cake.
“Need help?” Tom calls, coming towards us, dressed in head-to-toe red, white, and blue, including an Uncle Sam top hat, “Or someone to taste test the ice cream?”
“You can take the other side of the ice chest,” Rune tells him as Lorelei goes into an extensive explanation of the two flavors and how they were made. Tom listens and nods along kindly.
I hope Rune’s baseball cap and aviators will keep people from recognizing him. As we enter the barn, I search for Luna and Tom’s daughter, Angela. I want to cut her off at the pass, so she doesn’t say anything to anyone.
He’s a grown man, Shelby, Theo says very faintly, he can take care of himself.
Okay, I hear you, I grumble back internally, a bit annoyed at being chastised for my hypervigilance.
The old barn’s doors are thrown wide open. Inside the first third of the large space has hay bales and tables set up in a half circle for the food, drink. It’s decorated to the hilt in red, white, and blue. Streamers hang from the exposed beams above us. Several large picnic tables are set up here and in front of the barn for dining. Each table has holds pairs of mason jars filled with bright red peonies (one of the flowers Hummingbird specializes in), and white roses.
Tom and Rune deftly maneuver the ice chest to where the dessert stand is set up next to the serve-yourself drinks bar. There are already pitchers filled with cucumber water, iced tea, and the tell-tale deep wine red and floating fruit of Luna’s special sangria. I set down the cake and contemplate the wisdom of a glass of sangria before I eat anything.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“Go for it,” Rune says right behind me, “I am."
“Okay,” I agree, reaching for two mason jars to use as cups while he picks up the pitcher. It’ll help give me more courage to ask Tia Cecelia about Theo’s voice in my head. Also, there are already bowls of chips and veggies and dip out on several tables to nosh on, so I don’t get light-headed.
**
I’m in the barn helping Luna, and Pat organize the series of buffet tables of potluck food with little stand-up signs to make it clear what’s vegan, vegetarian, and for the carnivores when a tiny woman with a short chic silver hair and purple statement glasses walks briskly up to me. It’s Tia Cecilia.
“Ah, here’s my rose girl,” she says, “I’ve been expecting you, come.”
With that, I’m following her outside to a little table off to the side, set up under the shade of a large willow tree where it’s clear she’s been giving Tarot readings.
I’m self-conscious as I follow in her small, neatly dressed wake. I keep my eyes on her petite, erect, postured shoulders in their bright periwinkle denim jacket rather than look around at the crowd of people, most of whom I’ve met at least once before. Compared to Tia Cecilia I feel like the ungainly, too-tall stork of my junior high years.
“Here we go,” she says as she sits across from me, motioning for me to do the same.
“I’m not really here for a reading,” I admit as I set my sangria on the table. My face is hot under her dark, bird-bright, direct gaze. I take a sip of my fruity drink to buy a little time and then say, “I have a specific question about hearing voices.”
“Channeling,” she nods, picking up the beautiful Tarot deck I remember from last year. The images look like they’ve been inspired by the Art Nouveau master Alphonse Mucha. Tia Cecilia quickly shuffles the card in her small, elegant hands, “What do you want to know about it?”
“I think my late uncle is talking to me,” I say quickly as a hot tear slides down my cheek before I can catch it, “you met him here last year.”
“Theo,” she says kindly, smiling, but keeps her eyes on the cards as she picks one from the deck and lays it down on the center of the table between us. It’s The Fool card, upright to me. Good grief, he’s blond and handsome and looks like he could be Wizard Howl, Rune, or both.
She taps the card with a long purple nail that matches her glasses, “You’ve worked through some of your old blocks recently, so you can hear him now.”
“So, it’s not just my imagination,” I say, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“It runs in your family, Theo, your great-grandmother,” Tia Cecelia says, in the no-nonsense way of the bank manager she used to be, “but you’ve kept your skill mostly buried until recently. I see you’ve brought roses more into your life as I recommended. Good,” she says, tapping the card again.
“Yes,” I admit, “mostly as lotion and bouquets from the garden.”
She told me last year I should bring roses into my life in any authentic way I felt moved to if I wanted to be more open to love and romance. Frankly, at the time, I thought it was trite advice. But Luna swore her aunt was the real thing, so I did it, and here we are.
As I speak, Tia Cecilia’s head swivels up and right as if someone’s calling her name. I follow her gaze and see Rune standing with Tom and a group of other men chatting around Tom’s smoker. As if he senses our gaze, Rune glances over. Our eyes meet. A spark of electric thrill run up my spine. Oh boy, I’ve got it bad.
“Well,” Tia Cecilia clears her throat with a small laugh, “it’s certainly working. That’s not the same man you were here with last time.”
“No, he’s my old childhood friend,” I say, wanting desperately to know what she means by certainly working but afraid to ask. To me it doesn’t appear to be working at all. I’ve just found that I really like roses.
“That’s one way to describe him,” she says dryly and picks up The Fool card, neatly returning it to the deck, and starts to shuffle again, “one dear love has departed, and one seeks to return. My guides want you to choose three cards,” she says fanning the deck out for me as if she won’t take no for an answer.
This is important, Theo says very very faintly, pay attention.
“Can I record this on my phone?” I ask, feeling my stomach twist with both excitement and dread.
“Of course, I recommend you do,” she tells me as I set up my cell phone to do just that. The first card I pull out and lay down is VI of Pentacles upright.
“This is what’s been going on recently,” she tells me, “You’re learning to receive more freely, and it’s paying off. You’re also learning to advocate for yourself, which allows Theo to connect with you.”
This makes sense. I think of all that’s happened in the past few years, Theo leaving Sydney and me the house and his clothes, and my putting together HorseGirls and how it played out with Trident, so now I’m being paid for illustrations but am free to also do my own thing.
“Take another card,” Tia Cecilia tells me.
I draw out the V of Wands upright and lay it to the left of the first card.
“Hmmm, heads up,” she taps the card, “this is some of the strong negative energy starting to surround you right now. I’m being told it’s appearing in career, personal, and romance,” she gives me a quick sharp glance, “You need to stay calm in the chaos of a brewing storm, especially regarding any legal troubles. You can prevail but you’ve got to keep advocating for yourself and those you love. Pick the final card,” she instructs.
With growing dread, I pick another card carefully. I turn over and lay down The World card to the right of the other two, upside down to me. My heart sinks. She must be able to see it on my face.
“This is your future; have faith, rose girl; upside-down cards aren’t always bad news,” she tells me, “At its essence, this card is about seeking closure on personal issues. You’re being warned not to take the easy or coward’s way out but to stick to what you know is right in your soul. Yes, you and your lover and loved ones have some tough challenges ahead of you, but the rewards will be particularly sweet if you can stay true to your heart.”
**
Somehow, I make it through the extended Fourth of July meal. But the pleasure of so much delicious food and fun company is dimmed by the warning tone of Tia Cecilia’s words. Worry feels like a faint but persistent fog. It’s like a veil separating me from my friends and enjoyment. I miss Theo so much I can taste it. Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of him being here with us, weak, frail, using a wheelchair but fully present and alive, keeping everyone entertained with his marvelous stories.
I take off on my own when Pat comes over to ask Rune if he’d like a personalized farm tour. Marguerite joins them, and Lorelei takes Butterscotch to join a game organized for the kids on the front lawn. I need to get away, clear my head, and think. I grab my fedora and backpack and head out through the flower fields toward the woods that line the back of the farm in such a rush that I don’t even stop to admire the array of colors and fragrances.
I’m always better when I’m surrounded by trees. Maybe it’s all the extra oxygen. Or perhaps they’re just magic. The Japanese are right about their idea of forest bathing to help with what ails you. The only sound is birdsong and my boots, muffled by years of leavings from the fir trees around me.
Making sure no one’s around, I walk over to the tallest, grandest tree just off the trail and sit at its base, “I miss you, Theo,” I sob, letting the tears that have wanted to fall for the past hour or so go.
I’m hoping he’ll answer me. I’m hoping we can have an actual conversation out here in the woods rather than only the little snippets that have happened so far because I’ve been worried, and I’m just talking to myself.