Chapter Forty-Two

Marigold wakes in a field of yellow flowers. She lies still in the soft petals as the pink light of the sunset warms her skin. The wind tangles with the sweet song of the birds. As she stands, her body is unusually light and she feels no pain. Her skin is not burned, and her bones are not broken. Her white dress is no longer stained with ash and blood. Everything is calm and beautiful in an uncanny way. Why don't the flowers move in the wind? Why are the wispy clouds so stagnant? It's too still, too placid. It cannot be the real world.

She clears her throat. "Hello?" She touches her neck. How is her voice so smooth and effortless? She stretches her hands before her—no cuts, no calluses, not even a speck of dirt under her nails. Palming her forehead, she runs her fingers through her hair. It feels clean and it's tied up with her favorite yellow ribbon. She walks forward. The yellow flowers part before her with every step. From behind, she hears a voice say, "Hello, Mari."

She knows that voice, and it's not possible. That voice has been dead for more than a year. But as she turns, she sees her grandmother Althea standing in a flowing white dress, her gray hair perfectly pinned and bright red rouge across her lips.

"Grandmother?" she whimpers. The reality of this world starts to set in. She's dead. That's what this is. She was killed. She waits for the panic to set in, for her heart to beat against her bones, and for her limbs to start tingling, but it doesn't happen. Perhaps that is not possible here. What is there to fear, here, when the worst has already happened?

"Come here, darling girl," Althea says, running to her faster than her knees should allow.

She falls into her grandmother's arms. "I missed you so much. I don't have the words for this moment," she says.

"You need not speak, Mari. Just rest. I am so proud of you."

"I lost," she says, weeping. "I failed you."

"You did not fail me. You are the most magnificent Honey Witch the world has ever seen."

"How can you say that when I am here?"

She pulls back, gripping Marigold's shoulders. "It is not over. You get to decide if you want to stay here with me, or if you want to try again."

Wiping her face, she says, "I can go back? How?"

"I'll show you."

She hesitates. "But I just got you back. I can't leave you alone here."

Althea beams. "I am not alone. I have my soulmate with me."

"Mr. Benny?" She grips her grandmother's hands.

"My Benny," she says, looking over Marigold's shoulder.

She turns, and there he is, tall and unbroken. His beard is neatly trimmed and his bright red suspenders look brand-new. He takes off his straw hat and holds it over his heart.

"Hello, Miss Marigold."

She runs to him and throws her arms around him. "You're here," she sobs into his shoulder. Althea walks up behind them and embraces them both. She finds her grandmother's hand and holds it tightly. "My family. I cannot believe I'm seeing you both again."

"I told you I would be here waiting for you," Althea says, her voice trembling.

She pulls away and watches her grandmother and Mr. Benny fit perfectly into each other's arms. Two soulmates, finally together the way the fates intended them to be. The way that she and Lottie could be if she went back.

"If I go back, will you still be waiting for me here one day?"

"Always," Althea says.

"We will never leave you, granddaughter. We promise," Mr. Benny says.

She smiles, nodding. "Thank you. I love you both so much, but I need to go back. I have to be with Lottie."

Her grandmother slips out of Mr. Benny's arms and comes to her side. "Lie down. I'll help guide you home."

She lies on her back and looks at the sky, steadying her breathing before returning to her broken body.

"Grandmother, how did you know when it was time for you to go? And how did you stop yourself from coming back?"

"I knew it was time when I was the only thing standing in the way of the rest of your life. When you get older, people want to take care of you, and that's so lovely and comforting for a time. But eventually, you get so old and so sick that all people can do is take care of you. They cannot move on. They cannot live their own lives. If you love them, you must leave them. So, I did." She cups Marigold's cheek and wipes the tears with her thumb. "And my, Marigold, how you bloomed. You were so astonishing. I cannot wait to watch the rest of your life flourish."

She smiles, placing her hand atop Althea's. "I will not let you down."

"Darling, you never could."

She closes her eyes and listens to the low hum of her grandmother's voice, feeling herself drift away.

"Mari, please."Lottie's voice sounds from a faraway place. She lets that voice lead her home.

Pain. Blinding pain. Her body is made of suffering.

"Mari, wake up. We just got our lives back. You cannot leave me now!" Lottie cries over her. She's telling her hand to move, to reach up to Lottie and touch her face, but her body isn't listening.

I'm alive, she screams in her head, but her lips will not move. She takes the deepest breath she can. It burns her ribs.

"You're breathing. Oh, thank the fates, you are alive. Please keep breathing, my love. I'm going to fix you. Please do not stop breathing."

She nods, or at least, she tries to.

"Do not move," Lottie says.

She strains to open her eyes. Lottie, covered in ash and sweat, starts raking warm ash from the ground and placing it on Marigold's body. The woman flattens her palms on Marigold's chest and starts whispering something. The ground around her starts to heat. Her entire body shakes and her bones rattle in her skin.

Lottie leans down and kisses her forehead. "You'll be perfect again. Hold on for me."

Her muscles tighten and snap into place. Her splintered bones come back together. Sweat drenches her dress and covers her entire body. She feels a slight tingle—it starts in her shoulder, this ball of everything bad and hard and sticky. It rips through her, tiny spindly fingers reaching for the worst of her until it lands with a thud in her stomach. And there it grows, this twisted mass of guilt and grief and pain and teeth.

Lottie holds her face. "Stay with me, Mari. It's almost over."

She cannot stop screaming. Black smoke spills out of her mouth, making it impossible to take another breath. Choking, she forces herself to sit up and retches the ash out of her lungs. A dark mass falls into her lap with a thud and skitters away like a spider. Lottie crushes it with her fist, powdering it into the earth.

Marigold's hands cannot stop roaming her own body—is she here? Is she whole? She breathes, and it doesn't hurt anymore.

And Lottie, her soulmate, her Ash Witch, loves her.

"Mari?"

That voice, her name in Lottie's mouth, is the sound that pulls her from death itself. It's too perfect. She reaches for Lottie and holds her with such force, not allowing so much as wind to come between them.

"You saved me," she says.

"I love you," Lottie replies, and her eyes well with tears. "Oh, let me say that again. I love you. I. Love. You," she says, kissing her between every word. "I can say it without pain. I can kiss you without fear. I can love you as hard as I want to."

"I love you, too. I will always love you, my impossible girl."