Her garden is the second most special thing to her. The most special is Charlie. If she joins her garden, Charlie can continue to work with all their seeds and their rich soil and the silly little jokes no one else but they cared to hear. They could still work together.
We were simpatico, mostly, except when you slipped into your father’s skin. Your dad and mom were hand in glove, you bragged. His hand, her pliant glove, I thought, but never said.
I cried to the moon goddess, Nyx, as the night began to wane.
“Goddess can you hear me?
The night is cold, and I need a guide —
One who will fill the path with light and power.”