6. 6

I woke up stiff on the couch the next morning, unable to fend off Jester when he jumped on my head and began licking my face. "All right, you maniac. Get off." I sat up. Groaned when I remembered the night before.

Ghosts. Magic. "Mothers," I said, hurling a throw pillow.

Jester ran after it.

I dragged myself into the kitchen and found the replacement box of cupcakes. Pulled the liners off two of them and shoved them in my face. Chocolate, vanilla: the foundation of a healthy breakfast.

The sound of food should have brought Georgiana galloping to the kitchen. Where was she? Had Poppy gone out early?

I looked around and found a note in Poppy's handwriting on a thick, cream-colored notecard: Have gone to visit the Princess. Took Georgiana with me. Your mum can use my room—I'll stay over in the Fortress. Such fun!

I flipped it over. Gold engravings of leaves bordered a personalized invitation for Poppy to attend the upcoming Late Harvest Luncheon, hosted by the League of Women's Welfare—also known as the Ladies Who Witch.

"Huh," I said, fanning myself with the invitation before returning it to the counter. Poppy had been spending a lot of time in the Forest of Emeralds since our adventure there. I couldn't blame her. It had to be a relief to not be reading everyone's minds at all times.

Jester stared at me with begging eyes as rich brown as the chocolate cake.

"No chocolate for you, bud. Bad for the tummy. How about a liver treat?" His ears perked up like shag-carpeted satellite dishes. I retrieved a freeze-dried cube and tossed it to him in exchange for a sit and a shake. If only everything were so uncomplicated.

What had I actually seen in that dark alley?

I brushed cupcake and liver crumbs off my hands and snuck upstairs to get ready to go out, careful not to wake my mother, who wasn't used to the late hours we'd kept the night before. Back downstairs, I set out a fresh bowl of water for Jester and filled up his food toys. Then I leashed him and slipped outside, closing the door quietly.

When we returned from the morning walk, I opened the door to the townhouse to the smell of eggs, sausage, and something savory of the baked goods variety. I unclipped Jester's leash, and we made our way down the hallway past Poppy's cheerful decorations. In the kitchen, my mom stood with her back to me, stirring something in a frying pan.

Jester, faithful food hound, sat politely to the side in case particles of breakfast fell on the floor.

"Oh, good," I said. "You're up."

"Of course I'm up. Breakfast doesn't make itself." She stepped back from the stove and gestured to the pots and pans. "Cheese grits, cheese omelets"—she put on one of my silicone oven mitts and pulled a pan out of the oven—"and cheesy sausage biscuits."

"We're getting our calcium today, I see."

"Sit, sit, sit," she said, waving the oven mitt toward the little table. "I'll make you a plate."

I sat. In my family, food deserved full attention.

Jester agreed. He trotted over to the table and sat, fully alert.

My mother busily clanked plates on the counter and spooned up grits and eggs, following those up with two breakfast biscuits each.

"Mom, I don't know if I can eat all that—"

"Nonsense. You need your strength. And it's the least I can do after giving you such a fright last night."

"About that—"

"Hush, now. Let's eat."

Far be it from me to disobey the woman who birthed me, and, more importantly, just handed me a hot breakfast. I dug in, piling grits, eggs, and biscuit into every bite.

Mom wielded her knife and fork with grace and economy, followed by delicately patting her mouth. When we finished, she swept the plates away and began to clean up the rest.

"Let me get that," I said.

"I got it," she insisted, scooping leftover grits into a bowl.

I didn't bother to argue. I just pitched in, wrapping up the biscuits and scraping the pans before depositing them in the sink to soak. "We need to go see Poppy," I said, tossing a few bits of egg to Jester.

"Oh?"

"There's no need to hide your new magic from her, and she might be able to help teach you how to use it properly."

Mom shook her head and folded a dishtowel. "I don't need her to teach me—I need her to take it away."

"Take it away? Why would you want to do that?"

"I'm too old for this sort of thing, Zelda. I don't want to be dealing with"—she paused, then waved her hand through the air—"all this."

"You're not serious."

"I am serious. It's all well and good for you. You're young."

"I'm not that young."

"You know what I mean."

"I really don't. I mean, this is a gift. I didn't know that I wanted to use my magic until I actually started using it. You haven't even tried to live with it yet."

Mom looked away.

"You're here, anyway," I said. "We'll do it together." I put my arm around her. "Who knows? It might be fun!"

"That's what people say right before everything goes to hell."

"Mom!" I gave her a little shake.

"All right, all right. I'll do it, if it'll make you happy. But if I don't like it—"

"If you don't like it, we'll do whatever we can to make you comfortable again." I didn't say get you back to normal, because that would have made it sound like using magic was something weird or bad. Mom already thought that way, and I had no desire to reinforce it. "Come on. Let's start now."

"Already?"

"No time like the present. Isn't that what you always told me?"

"I didn't expect you to use my wise words against me."

"Payback's a mother."

"Zelda!"

I laughed. "Let's go see Poppy."

"Where is Poppy, by the way? I didn't see her or that enormous dog of hers this morning."

"She's—" How would I explain this to my mother? Pocket universes? Parallel dimensions? Magic doors?

Magic doors it was. "You know the Narnia books?"

Mom looked half offended, half like I had lost my mind. "Of course I know the Narnia books."

"Remember how the children got to Narnia?"

"I am not climbing into a wardrobe, if that's what you're suggesting."

"Not a wardrobe. More like… a garden path."

"A garden path?"

"Poppy is in another world that's adjacent to ours. A world belonging to a people called the Gentry. You can think of them as fairies, if it helps. Berron is one of them."

She patted my arm. "All this sounds like complete nonsense, so don't fret yourself about the details. Just lead on." She glanced down at Jester. "Does he come, too?"

"Jester?" I looked down at my miniature poodle.

His jaw fell open in a doggy smile, and his tongue hung out slightly off-center.

"See?" Mom said. "He wants to go."

Jester's tongue swiped over his entire face in search of egg molecules.

I rolled my eyes. "Sure he does," I said. Then again, if it gave Mom courage, Jester couldn't be too much trouble. "Okay. Fine. The dog can come."

My mom leaned down to Jester. "You're coming, too! You hear that, little boy?"

Jester, clueless but enthusiastic, jumped up on his hind legs and kissed her face.

There were multiple known entry points. Gramercy Park was the one we had used at first, but after all of the ways between our world and theirs had opened, the one in Riverside Park became the go-to for sheer convenience.

We would need one of the Gentry to take us through. Since Berron was the only one who spent any amount of time outside the Forest of Emeralds, that meant I needed Berron.

While Mom bustled off to finish getting ready, I texted the Prince of the Gentry. What's up, Your Highness? Couldn't go straight into demanding things. I mean, I could, but if I started low-key, I had somewhere to build to.

A few minutes later, he replied. I'm at the Museum of Arts and Design.

Is that the one on Columbia Circle? I wrote back.

They have this glass flamingo goblet I'm really into, he said.

I typed quickly: Don't steal it.

A pause. Then: Why not?

I sighed and put the phone down, rethinking my life in general, then picked it back up. Because I need you.

I didn't know you cared, he replied.

Shut up, I typed. I need you to take me and my mom through to Poppy.

He sent a selfie next to the flamingo goblet. A flamingo formed the stem and supported a trumpet-shaped pink glass vessel on its head. Lit from behind with pure white light, it beamed in a kitschy, cheerful way.

Lovely, I wrote.

Me, or the goblet?

I debated the flattery before I went ahead and sent it: Both. Now can you please stop drooling over expensive breakables and meet us at Riverside Park?

So you're actually introducing me to your mother?

I closed my eyes and took a breath, then reopened my eyes. Needs must, as Poppy would say. Behave, I texted.

It wasn't until ten minutes later, when I was getting ready myself, that my phone dinged again, with his response: Where's the fun in that?

We bundled up for the cold, including a little jacket for Jester, and headed out.

At Riverside Park, the fallen leaves had drifted to the sides of the pathways like windblown confetti after a parade. We followed the broad, paved pathway north to the 91st Street Garden.

You would think that the garden would have fallen into a restful sort of decay, fast asleep until spring—but in fact, it was so carefully managed that even deep into autumn, it was wide awake with green plants and colorful flowers.

"Oh, my goodness, elephant ears! Japanese beautyberry! And that's billygoat weed right there," she said, pointing to a fluffy, light purple flower. She rubbed her gloved hands together with delight. "Who takes care of this garden?"

"The Garden People."

"The garden people?"

"No, really—that's their official name. They're volunteers. They each take care of a plot." I leaned on the fence railing and searched for a plant I could identify. Mostly I just called them that red one, or that green one with the funny-shaped leaves, but with my mother around I had to try harder. "Are those… mums?" I guessed wildly.

She beamed. "Zelda! You know what a chrysanthemum is!"

"You taught me well," I replied, hoping she didn't ask me to identify a single other plant, because I couldn't. Thankfully, I was saved by Berron's approach. "Oh, good," I said as he walked up. "You aren't carrying a stolen flamingo glass."

"Who said I didn't drop it off at your place on the way?"

"You don't have a key."

"Keys, bah," Berron said, waving away the minor inconvenience of locks. "And is this your lovely mother?" he added, fixing Mom with a smile.

"Mom, this is my friend, Berron. He helped renovate the shop and make the furniture for it. Berron, this is my mom, Effie."

Mom patted her hair. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Berron draped his arm over my shoulder and gave me a side-hug that turned into something more like a side-earthquake. "Do you know what your daughter did?"

"Berron, I don't think we need to get into all that—"

He gave me another shake to shut me up. "She's so modest. If your daughter hadn't intervened, some very bad things would have happened to the people I care about. I know if she's that special, you must be something special, too."

My mother giggled. "I like this one. You can keep him."

"Mom, I'm not keeping anyone—"

"Mother knows best," Berron said, patting my shoulder before releasing me. "Now, shall we enter the garden?" He unlatched the gate and held it open.

"Don't mind if I do," Mom said. She took quick and dainty steps down the pathway.

I leaned close to Berron's ear. "Stop buttering her up."

"It's not butter if it's sincere," he murmured.

I rolled my eyes and let Jester drag me further in.

Berron looked up and down the pathway adjacent to the garden, making sure no one was in sight, before hurrying after us. "It's all clear,"he said.

The garden was laid out in a simple rectangle surrounded by a low black fence. A brick path, straight as the Manhattan grid but only wide enough for a single person, cut the space down the middle. The path led to an open space, square-shaped, like a patio. Everything growing in the garden was no taller than shoulder height, making it easy to see in and out.

"Are we supposed to disappear from here?" my mother asked. "Wouldn't that be a little suspicious to the people walking past?"

"That's what Berron was checking," I said.

Berron caught up and held out his hand to my mom. She took it, bouncing slightly in anticipation.

I took her free hand, forming a chain—Berron, Mom, me, and Jester—and looked around one last time. "We're clear. Go."

Berron continued along the path. It felt less like a path and more like a runway now, though we weren't running. The plants seemed to pass us by quicker than we were walking, blurring like an Impressionist painting in the Met. Colors merged and melted. The air sang with golden magic. Our shoes struck the brick path until suddenly they didn't, going soft and quiet over a springier surface. Only then did new surroundings rise up around us, replacing the low garden plots with towering trees, a soaring leafy canopy, and unfamiliar birdsong.

"Oh, my," Mom said, coming to a stop and gazing around with wonder and a touch of bewilderment.

"Welcome," Berron said, "to the Forest of Emeralds."

Jester immediately set about sniffing the ground like it was his job.

Mom gripped my shoulder, steadying herself. "Where are we, exactly?"

"In the Forest of Emeralds, like Berron said."

She let go and shot me a look. "I know that, Zelda, but where are we? Did we walk right off a map?"

Berron jumped in. "More like we're on another map, underneath a map of Manhattan. Or on top of it. I've never been quite sure about the positioning." He beckoned her forward and guided her to the top of a low rise.

Mom stood straight, listening carefully and surveying the land as Berron pointed out the relative locations of familiar tourist landmarks to their counterparts in the realm of the Gentry.

"Remarkable," Mom said. "All my life, I never imagined…" She swept her hand to indicate the landscape.

All of it green and rich, a far cry from what it had been on my first trip. If only she could have seen what it took to restore it. All of us, in our own ways, bending the magic to bring an enchanted forest back to life. I was proud of what we'd done. "Still want to get rid of your magic?" I asked.

"Of course I do," she replied quickly. "I was just remarking on how impressive this was."

I nodded, unwilling—for once—to argue. Magic was nothing to take lightly, I'd learned.

As beautiful as it was, if you let it into your life, it might never let you go.