Chapter Nine

When the harvest is finally complete and the cottage is filled with honey and two exhausted witches, Althea and Marigold relax into their well-earned rest. Marigold has taken over the cooking, and she brings Althea her meals in bed. She often sits in the rocking chair across from Althea and reads to her while they share a bottle of honeyed mead.

Their time together remains cheerful and happy, but Althea looks less and less like herself with each passing day. Her hair has lost its curl. She does not have the energy to make more of her homemade red lipstick, much less put it on. She sleeps more, talks less, and it breaks Marigold's heart. She does everything she can to make her grandmother as comfortable as possible, but it is not enough. While her grandmother sleeps through the days, Marigold starts to realize just how alone she is about to be.

Days pass until Althea wakes with a bit more energy and decides to move to the couch in the living room. Marigold brings over her breakfast, and they watch the sunrise. Soon after, there is a knock at the door. Marigold chews her lip; she has yet to handle a customer interaction completely on her own, and she realizes now that she has no idea what to do. It's the only part of her role that scares her. She's never been great with people, but maybe that only applies to those in Bardshire. Fiddling with her dress, she poses unnaturally in the kitchen, pretending to be confident. Thankfully, Althea is feeling well enough today to help guide the interaction.

"Come in," Althea calls, and a familiar face walks in. Mr. Benny may have trimmed his beard slightly since their last encounter, but it is still well past his chest. He still wears his signature red suspenders, now over a blue striped shirt tucked tightly into his patchwork trousers. He puts a harvest basket full of seasonal vegetables onto the table.

"Benny!" Althea says as she struggles to get up. He rushes over to her and holds her in a gentle embrace.

"Hi, Althea," he says, his tone falling when he sees her in her weakened state. "How are you doing today?"

She gives a soft smile. "Very tired. Marigold will help you now," Althea says. "Mari, here's your very first customer to handle all on your own."

Marigold bounds over to him with excitement. "What seems to be the problem, Mr. Benny?"

"Just had a bit of hay fever; you know how it gets in the late spring. Pollen everywhere all the time. I was hoping you would have some of that miracle potion for this time of year," he says.

"I can whip it up for you right now," she says, cracking open the grimoire and grabbing ingredients. This one is easy—bee pollen, propolis, essence of mint, and black sage honey. "How many jars do you need?"

"I'll take all you have," Mr. Benny says, and Althea gives him a light shove.

"He'll have one, Marigold," Althea says as she glares up at her friend, who wears a wicked grin. "She's new, Benny. Don't tease her. For reference, Marigold, one potion is all a person will need. Don't let them overwork you," she warns, and Marigold smiles and nods.

"Well, she has to go through some sort of initiation, doesn't she? I used to always give you a hard time, too," Mr. Benny says to Althea.

"You still give me a hard time, Benny. That never stopped," she replies.

He sighs sweetly. "My, I've been missing you, Althea. I didn't want to interrupt your time with your granddaughter, but… well, you know," Mr. Benny says with a gentle smile. Althea blushes as she holds his gaze.

"Here you are, Mr. Benny," Marigold says as she hands him a vial.

"Thank you kindly, Miss Marigold." He smiles and turns back to Althea. "Is there anything I can do for you, lady?"

Althea looks at the floor for a moment before pulling her shoulders back and nodding. "Yes. Come back tomorrow morning, Benny. Okay? I need you to come back tomorrow."

Benny nods. Their gaze lingers on each other, an entire conversation happening in the silence between them that Marigold cannot decipher. He is turning to walk away when Althea calls his name again. There is a long pause.

"Yes?" Benny says.

"I…" Althea stops herself. She looks at Marigold, then back at Benny. "I wanted to say thank you. I've found myself cherishing happy memories as of late, and you happen to be in many of my favorites."

He smiles softly, his round eyes sparkling in the light that streams through the window. "You know, it's funny," he says with a light laugh. "Maybe it's my age, but I can't clearly remember how we first met. I suppose I'm simply thankful I made a good enough impression for you to let me stay around."

She smiles softly. "You did."

He bows out of the door, and Althea watches him through the window until he is too far to see.

"I love that man," Althea says as she sits back down with a sigh. Marigold's heart sinks as she observes her grandmother now, crumbling into herself on the couch.

"Would you like to head to bed, Grandmother?" she asks, looking for anything to aid in her grandmother's comfort.

"Yes, darling. I should go now before I lose all energy to stand." Althea laughs, but there is truth in her voice. Marigold bears all her weight as they walk into her room. She helps her grandmother into bed, adds another blanket on top of her, and then takes her place in the rocking chair across from the bed. Picking up the book at her side, she removes the bookmark and skims over the page where they left off.

"I will warn you that this is a romance book. This next chapter is quite… descriptive. Shall I skip over it?"

"Don't you dare! That's the best part. Go on," Althea says with a weak motion of her hand, and Marigold laughs loudly.

"You're a deviant," she says.

"I am just a woman with fantastic taste in literature. Now read," Althea commands, and Marigold collects herself as she begins. The two of them giggle until they are blue in the face, and when they reach the end of the book, Marigold leaves to tend to the house. She spends the afternoon tending to the bees, inspecting the hives and checking on the brood nestled within the honeycomb. She brews another batch of the hay fever cure and, after bottling it and cleaning the kitchen, takes her time cooking an elaborate dinner of mushroom stew and bread rolls for her and Althea.

"When do you expect the bees will have made enough honey for another harvest?" she asks.

"I haven't really thought that far ahead, darling," Althea says as a morbid joke that stings Marigold harder than she possibly intended.

"Well, I think it could be soon. I'm amazed at how quickly they replenish."

"They are amazing creatures," Althea agrees as she fights to keep her eyes open. She drifts off for a moment and smiles in her sleep. Marigold counts the seconds between each deep breath until her grandmother jolts herself awake. "Sorry, Mari. I drifted into a dream there."

"What did you dream of? You were smiling."

Her eyes close as she sinks farther into the bed, her voice hardly more than a whisper. "I dreamed of my friends, when we were girls together. When I sleep, I am with them, ageless. We're all barefoot girls with long plaited hair and baby teeth."

"That is so lovely, Grandmother. I should very much like to meet your friends."

"Oh, they are all on the other side now, darling. They are waiting for me."

Silence heavies the air. Marigold picks at her nails and chews the inside of her cheek. "Well, I hope they are patient."

Althea smiles, though her eyes remain closed. "You know, one day, I'll be on the other side waiting for you, too. I'll be there for you, always."

Marigold stands at the side of the bed and hugs her grandmother. "I know you will. In the yellow flowers." Kissing her cheek, she says, "I will let you dream now. I'll see you in the morning."

"Mari…" Althea says, catching her before she leaves the room. "I am so very proud of you. You are the perfect Honey Witch, and I have been so lucky to watch you grow. I love you, darling."

Marigold's heart swells with love that tickles her belly.

"I love you, too, Grandmother. Thank you for all of this. I am so grateful to have seen the beauty you bring to the world, and I am honored that you have taught me to do the same. I know that you have brought me where I need to be."

With that, she goes to her own room, blows out her candle, and tucks herself in. However, sleep does not come. There is a feeling of dread in her chest that burns through the night. Part of her knows that her grandmother is in her final days, but another part of her rejects that reality entirely. It is impossible to imagine the Honey Witch cottage without Althea Murr. It is equally impossible to imagine herself without her grandmother. While she had not often seen her throughout her life, Marigold could always feel her love, and she always felt connected to her. Now she knows why.

What will it feel like when her grandmother passes? She pictures a sudden pain in her side, like a knife burying itself in her ribs. She imagines a tangible bond between them breaking like a bone. Every part of her expects to feel something the very moment that Althea passes. With two people being so similar, and so magically connected, it would seem to be an impossibility to not know when the other passes on.

In the morning, there is nothing in the air that would indicate anything is different or wrong. While sleepiness dulls Marigold's intuition, she takes her time dressing for the day—a white flowing dress and her favorite yellow ribbon in her hair. She makes her way to the kitchen and fixes two cups of coffee before walking over to Althea's door.

For the moment, she feels nothing.

And then, the knowing comes, and she feels everything all at once.

She drops the cups of coffee onto the floor and rushes to her grandmother's side. In the bed, tucked beneath her many yellow blankets, lies Althea Murr, who looks to be finally at peace. While Marigold knew that this day was close, she could not have prepared herself for the sight, and she can't hold back her screams. Her voice echoes so powerfully that it shakes the very trees of the isle. Leaves fall to the ground like teardrops. The time that she spends crying on the floor feels endless, but it feels just as sudden when a pair of strong arms pick her up and pull her into an embrace. A long beard tickles her cheek, and she recognizes the striking red suspenders out of the corner of her eye.

"I remembered," he says, his heavy tears falling onto Marigold's crown.

"Mr. Benny," she whimpers as he holds her hair. Althea told Mr. Benny yesterday that he would need to come back today—her grandmother knew then that her time was almost done, and in this moment, Marigold has never been more grateful to not be alone. She begins to calm down in his arms, but she cannot turn to look at her grandmother again.

"I know not what to do now," she cries.

"I remember everything," Mr. Benny says softly. She does not have the breath to ask what he means. They cry with each other, the strength of their grief holding the sun still so that time did not pass them by. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours, but it did not matter. It was their time to grieve together, and the world would wait for them to catch their breath.

"I spoke with your grandmother before she left to see you," Mr. Benny says, "and she told me that she knew her time was near. She left me with instructions on what to do."

Marigold nods. "Tell me what you need from me."

"Not a thing, Marigold. Go somewhere peaceful, and I will take care of everything the way your grandmother told me she wanted," he says. Marigold wraps her arms around him tightly in another embrace.

"Bless you, Mr. Benny. Thank you," she says as she pulls back to see his sweet smile. She leaves the cottage without looking back.

She walks outside into the apiary, where she is greeted by the sound of bumbling bees and a kaleidoscope of butterflies. Slowly, she walks past each hive and knocks lightly as she whispers the news to them. The bees tumble out of their hive and fly around her body. It's as if the little creatures can sense her grief and want to help her find peace. They lead her back to the oasis, where she lies down on the soft green grass and rests in the presence of a clear, still sky.

Innisfree will weep without Althea, and Marigold doubts that she will be able to fulfill the obligations that her grandmother once did. She has been training for this, of course, but it all still felt far away until this morning. Now she alone is the Honey Witch of Innisfree, and she cannot allow herself to fail. Tears drip down her face and into the grass that frames her. One small bee waddles up her arm and flies to the tip of her nose. It buzzes and tickles until it earns her smile, and then it flies away. She sits up and takes in a deep breath of floral-scented air, and the wind stings her tearstained cheeks. The breeze ripples through the grass and trees, and then it begins to grow in strength. Marigold stands to witness the dancing trees, and suddenly, all around her, yellow flowers start to spring up. In a matter of seconds, the trees are covered in bright yellow blooms, and the petals float lightly in the air like impossible snowflakes in summer. They swirl around Marigold and beckon her to dance, and she spins wildly through the meadow. Every place that she steps earns another yellow flower that blooms as soon as she steps away. The entire meadow becomes a sea of soft yellow, and Marigold knows that her grandmother's presence is here with her.

"If you can hear me," Marigold starts, but the tears find her again. She thinks herself a fool for speaking to the wind, but she stifles her sobs and perseveres regardless.

"If you can hear me, Grandmother, know that I love you and I will not let you down," Marigold says. She waits for a moment until a flower begins to glow at her feet. She smiles, but she leaves the flower unpicked, the glow unharmed. In the light of the setting sun, Marigold and the bees start their journey back to the cottage.

When they arrive, the bees return to their hives, and Marigold meets Mr. Benny sitting on the front steps.

"Hello there, Miss Marigold," he says kindly.

"Hi, Mr. Benny," Marigold replies, unable to hide her nerves. He wastes no time with idle chitchat as he offers her his hand.

"Would you like to see her?" Mr. Benny asks, and Marigold accepts his hand. He leads her around the cottage, to the open yard that sits across from the apiary. There, in the middle of the grass, is a spot of freshly tilled soil adorned with the same yellow flowers that Marigold watched bloom in the meadow moments ago. Beside the spot where Althea is buried, there are heavy copper wind chimes that sing in the breeze. There is no headstone, but there needn't be one. This is the final resting place of Althea Murr—it is something that is sensed, without the aid of a marker. The landv?ttir all gather behind Marigold, offering their calming presence and promises to keep this ground safe no matter what.

Even if the world were to cave in, they would shield this spot with their sun-bleached bones.

"It's perfect," Marigold whispers.

"I'm glad you like it," Mr. Benny says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring that Althea wore on days when she wasn't working in the apiary. It's gold with lots of little swirls holding on to tiny emeralds. His hands are trembling.

"She wanted you to have this," he says.

"It's beautiful," she says, placing it on her ring finger. It's a bit dirty and it's too big, but it's perfect. It's the most important thing she owns.

"I'll leave you now, Miss Marigold. I am sorry for your loss. Please forgive me if I take a little longer to return to you. I'll be back soon, but I need some time. I need to make sure I remember it all."

Marigold smiles and nods, understanding the desire to commit every moment with Althea to memory. She intends to take that time as well, to fill her journal with their stories. As Mr. Benny leaves her, she spends the night beside her grandmother's resting place and weeps.