Tripping Magic

2.5

After dropping off the queen at Melissa’s, I drove in the opposite direction past the edge of town. Houses became more sporadic as wood- and farmlands increased in number. Immature corn and soybean plants dotted the fields, grown less than half way through their season.

Mira lived in a small ranch between two patches of woodland with a pair of rowan trees in the front yard and a greenhouse out back. She grew a bit of everything of any use, but I only needed one ingredient.

I saw her blurry shape through the opaque glass of the greenhouse as I parked in her drive. The whitewash on its ceiling and walls kept some sunlight out to protect the plants. Mira waved me in when she saw me behind the old aluminum storm door at its entrance.

She watered a row of plants in terracotta pots from a sprayer attachment on the hose. Plastic grid work stretched over stacked cement blocks made a table for the plants, and as she moved the sprinkler, the runoff streamed onto the deep gravel on the floor. Mira wiped the back of her hand across her brow, leaving a long smudge of dirt. It matched the one along her chin.

I brushed my fingers up the long blades of a potted lemon grass bush. “Got any catnip?”

Her eyes widened as she stared at me. “You found him?”

“I did.”

The greenhouse was damp and warm, but not so hot and humid to be unpleasant. It was a welcome contrast to the chilly wait at the park and I finally started to thaw. Gravel crunched underfoot as I walked between the tables towards Mira and I took a deep breath of the lush peat scent of potting soil.

“Where is he?”

“Apple Lane.”

I stuck my nose into the blooms of a small shrub. I expected something fruity — nothing more than a waxy fragrance rose from its soft petals.

Mira turned off the water and wove through the rows of plants till she was at a table along the far wall. “How much do you need?”

“Not much. A couple of sprigs should do.”

She used a fingernail to nip a few stems off of a tall plant. I could smell the musty mint coming off of the fuzzy little leaves as she approached.

I smirked. “Is it organic?”

“Of course.” One eyebrow hooked upward as she smiled. “Fertilized with bullshit.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Yours.” Mira stepped towards me and slipped the catnip into my hand. Lifting up on her toes, she pressed a kiss to my cheek.

I turned to match it, but she moved, and I met her lips instead. Startled, my breath hitched.

All I could think of was Matthew and that last tingle of his essence passing through me. Mira leaned in closer. Trapped, I was caught between a dead man I still loved and a very alive woman I wanted to love. Mira didn’t deserve the baggage.

Sensing my hesitation, she broke off to hug me instead. “I’m sorry, Alex. I shouldn’t—”

“No, please.” I held onto her tight, wrapping my arms around her warmth. “We need to talk, but right now I have to do this.” I clutched the catnip in a fist.

“I know,” she mumbled against my chest. She turned to gaze at me. I expected a measure of bitterness, but her eyes were kind.

Mira smiled. “Good luck.”

I kissed her forehead. “Thanks.”

I sat in the Bronco and watched Mira’s shape continue to water her plants for a few moments more before turning the key in the ignition.