I wake up slowly, a persistent warmth glowing in my heart.

It takes me a moment of laying still to remember everything from last night. When I do, I smile to myself, looking up at the ceiling, staring through shafts of sunlight. A small, purring, furry lump of warmth is pressed against my side. I reach down and gently scratch Luna’s ears, the hush of morning filling up the room. The branch growing into the bedroom sways easily in the breeze.

I get up slowly, stretching my arms over my head. Aiden is gone, already at work. But there's the faintest trace of vetiver scent clinging to my cheek, like he kissed me before he left. I affectionately trail my fingers over the rumpled sheets where he slept.

Maybe it’s good that I didn’t get an eyeful of his stupid-hot, drowsy, unwound early morning self. The flame kindled in me by last night is still burning fierce and hot. Anything Aiden might do to add more love to it would probably send me scrambling for my inhaler.

Even after our talk last night, in the fifteen minutes between us going upstairs and us falling asleep, he was still adding to it. He kept so close behind me, shadowing me everywhere, so close that if he bent down his chin would be on my shoulder. He didn’t seem to realize what he was doing until I turned around after brushing my teeth, walked into him, and broke into tired laughter.

He retreated to wait for me on the bed after that, sheepish but smiling. Keeping me in his eyeline.

I smile to myself as I pull on some clothes, remembering the look on his face.

I turn to go downstairs, then stop, my gaze caught on the dresser. There, in a pool of sunshine, is a scrap of paper.

I know what it is right away, and my smile widens.

When Aiden reads something in one of his poetry books that reminds him of me, or of us - he copies it out onto a piece of paper and leaves it somewhere he knows I'll find it. It’s become a little thing he does sometimes.

Every time he leaves me one, I paste it into my sketchbook. The sketchbook only had two scraps when I started, but now it has full pages of poetry. Sometimes I turn through them, the pages filled up with Aiden’s handwriting. In all different colored pens, whatever he happened to reach for that was closest, in that moment when he was thinking of me.

I love carefully adding a new scrap of paper to the sketchbook. The ritual feels precious to me. Transportive, strangely sublime.

I’ve reread each fragment of poetry so many times. I feel like Aiden tells me things through them that he’s too shy to say himself, or that he can’t find the words for.

There must have been something he wanted to tell me, this morning.

I step into the colorful light pouring in through the window behind the dresser, which has panes of all different shades. The colors absorb into the piece of paper, golden and crimson and peach.

I pick up the paper and read the poetry that Aiden left for me, the words copied out in his handwriting.

Everything that was broken has

forgotten its brokenness. I live

now in a sky-house, through every

window the sun. Also your presence.

Our touching, our stories. Earthy

and holy both. How can this be, but

it is. Every day has something in

it whose name is Forever.

I freeze, wide-eyed, then read the poem again. Then again, and again.

Then I set it down, give up, and go get my fucking inhaler.

When I can sort of breathe again, I reach for my phone and shakily type out a text.

Me 9:24 AM: I really love this one, Callahan.

Companion Plant 🍃 9:25 AM: Have literally no idea what you’re talking about, you weird one

Me 9:25 AM: Were you embarrassed about leaving it?😊 I notice I didn’t get a good morning text today

Companion Plant 🍃 9:25 AM: ANYWAYS what should we do for dinner tonight?

Me 9:26 AM: Very slick change of subject, very smooth

Me 9:26 AM: Speaking of dinner, thank you for last night. It was so yummy, and I know how much work it took.

Companion Plant 🍃 9:27 AM: 😊

Companion Plant 🍃 9:28 AM: Well, tonight I’m picking up hot wings for us, just so you know. Not cooking.

Me 9:28 AM: Unf. So sexy

Me 9:29 AM: Say more about hot wings

Companion Plant 🍃 9:29 AM: You have problems, Keane.

Companion Plant 🍃 9:29 AM: I love you.

I smile down at my phone as I answer him, then slip it into my pocket and pad downstairs. Luna stretches luxuriously, then follows after me.

I push open the back door of the kitchen, then stand gazing out at the garden, leaning against the doorframe.

I’ve finally touched back down from the cloud of distraction and anxiety I’d gotten lost in over the past two days. I feel here. Aware and awake. Seeing everything with clear eyes.

The garden is rich with sunlight from the turquoise sky overhead. But deep emerald shadows make shady places, cast there by the arching tree boughs. Everything is so green, spring growth fed by days of steady rain. The misty air is cold and clear in my mouth, in my chest, against my face.

Something makes me step down into the garden to feel it with my bare feet.

There is grass in the overgrown, chaotic garden, but it’s not lawn grass. It’s wild and thick, like meadow grass. The soft tufts of it brush against my ankles, lingering dewdrops spangling my skin with cold kisses.

I watch the sweeping branches of the weeping willow as they flutter in the breeze. My gaze eventually breaks away from the willow and roams over the whole garden. Green life, green air, dotted with jewels of radiant color. Ripening berries, flowers, fruit. Moss-laden stone. The bursts of flowers climbing up the walls and hanging down from overhead. Pale green Spanish moss also hangs down, rippling in the breeze, still dripping from the rain.

I take a deep breath, spellbound.

When I told Aiden that I wanted a place with a garden someday, I had no idea that he’d find me this. It’s like a garden I might have dreamt.

Something comes over me as I stand there staring at the garden, breathing it in.

I’ve been slowly and meticulously removing anything invasive growing out here, but I hadn’t decided what to do with the garden yet. To cut away the wilderness, to tame this place into neat rows of flowers - that wouldn’t be the right thing. But I don’t want to leave it completely as it is, either. I’ve always wanted a big project garden like this. To transform it into something of my own, to create something new.

So far, the only thing I know for sure is that I want to make space for a table out here. I can close my eyes and picture Aiden and I seated at the table in the soft twilight, his fireflies woven through the garden. Long talks over slow dinners, the sofreh spread on the tabletop.

Perfect. But what else?

I hadn’t known, but it’s dawning on me now. I look around at the garden, feeling as if I’ve finally understood something it was trying to tell me. I walk further out into the leafy wildness, trailing my fingertips over the nearest plants. Thinking that I really should have known all along.

At its core, this is a magic garden.

Not magic in the way that Aiden is. It doesn't actually have powers. But it’s mystical, mysterious, strange. Revealing little secrets all the time. The other day I found a tiny, naturally-formed creek running over a cluster of rough black rocks, hidden beneath the leaves. And that was only one surprise of many that I've uncovered.

It already feels like a place for magic. Like a place waiting for magic. The swaying stalks of hollyhock, showers of colorful petals. The little bunches of buttercups, pale yellow like lemon sherbert. The way the garden runs all the way around to the small, cozy vegetable patch on the side of the kitchen.

I think my job is to reveal the garden for what it is. Transform it into a truly magic garden.

And I know just where to start.

I go back inside, back up to our bedroom. I stop before the dresser, looking at the two malachite plants sitting there.

The cutting is growing nicely in its jar of water, but the more mature plant has really started to flourish. It’s outgrowing its pot, slowly but determinedly getting stronger and taller. I’m about ninety percent sure that one day, it’s going to reveal itself to be a tree.

The malachite leaves let out their soft, musical sound as I carefully take the pot into my hands. They turn to face the direction of City Hall - and its archives - as I head downstairs.

Back in the garden, I set the malachite plant down near the kitchen step, then drop to my knees beside it.

I told Aiden that I had to plant it soon, that it would outgrow life in a pot. He could tell that I definitely didn't want to have to choose where to plant it.

It’s just - a lot of commitment.

Once the malachite plant is rooted, there’s no moving it. It’ll keep watch over the specific piece of earth that I choose for the rest of its lifespan, and trees can have lifespans of thousands of years. That’s how long the malachite plant might live here, where I place it. For such a rare, precious plant as this, I've felt helpless to pick that spot.

But if I plant the malachite tree right here, it should grow to reach all the way up to the windows of the second bedroom. You would be able to see it through all of the windows of that room, actually. Even if one day we ask Raj and Noah to add a wall, make one room into two - all of the kids would always be able to see it, and hear it. A magic tree that their dads made, watching protectively over them.

I close my eyes and picture the kids exploring the branches. Surrounded by misty green leaves that sing softly like windchimes.

I take a deep breath, then open my eyes and look at the malachite plant again. I reach for my gloves and my gardening tools, then change my mind. I sink my bare fingers into the rich, soft spring earth, and begin to dig.

The sunlight bends over me, gently kissing my neck, and it feels like Aiden is here with me.

With no uncertainty in my heart, I get to work.

~~~~

By the time I’m done in the garden, the sun is sinking, and I’m feeling tired and happy. This was a day off well-spent. So many more invasive plants are gone, leaving room for the rest to spread and blossom.

I stand near the kitchen window, sipping on my tea, looking out at the newly-planted malachite tree. It’s holding up just fine in the breeze, so far.

I run my wrist over my forehead, and come away with some soil. I turn around, thinking about taking a shower - and Kasey materializes before me.

“Oh, my god!” I press a hand over my chest, caught completely off-guard. “Kase-face! You freaked me out!”

“You’re freaking me out!” she answers immediately, equally startled. “Why’d you jump back like that?”

“You haven’t shown up for a while,” I remind her, wiping some spilled tea off of my hands. “I got used to not having someone just appear from thin air.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Kasey says brightly.

Her mouth is turned up in a big smile, her dark eyes glowing.

“Where have you been?” I arch an eyebrow at her, taking in the expression on her face. “I was starting to wonder if you were mad at me about something, although - you actually look like you're pretty happy. But I haven’t seen you or Will in a minute.”

Kasey breaks into a diabolical grin. “I’ll tell you where I’ve been. Busy. Will and I made a discovery.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“Ghosts can have sex.”

I had been taking a sip of my tea, but now I promptly choke on it. “What-?”

Kasey’s grin is steadily spreading. “And now we have our own place, so. You know.”

“Kasey!” I cough, thumping the side of my fist against my chest. “That’s what you’ve been-? It’s been days - over a week!”

“Yeah. Yeah.” She giggles as I stare at her in disbelief. “We can’t really get tired, is the thing. And you know how we can reset our appearances? Like-”

She takes off her translucent jacket and tosses it aside, messes up her hair, and closes her eyes. The jacket she threw off vanishes from the floor, reappears on her. Her hair is instantly back to how it was before.

“Like that? Well, it turns out that resets our bodies, too. In a - manner of speaking-”

“Oh, my god!”

“And I haven’t had sex since like, before I even died. Will has never had any, and he’s been around for two centuries - he didn’t even have a body, for most of that - so we, um - had some lost time to make up for. And it turns out my history major self really likes the kind of things that Will blurts out when we-”

“Oh, okay!” I throw my hands up over my ears, my face burning. “Wow! That’s enough info, thanks!”

“We’ve actually kind of gotta be careful with that,” Kasey murmurs, half to herself. “I didn’t even realize it had been so long. Did you say it’s been over a week?”

“Jesus!” I shake my head at Kasey, and she grins widely at me. “Where’s Will?”

“Oh, yeah. About that. I think I might have - broken him? He’s all, um - summon him, you’ll see.”

“Will,” I call out, and he materializes by my side.

His appearance doesn’t give anything away, but I nearly burst out laughing when I see his facial expression. His dazed, dreamy, distant eyes, a smile big enough to make anyone’s face ache. He’s blinking very slowly, and he’s looking right at me, but I’m not sure he sees me.

“Um - Will?” I test out waving a hand in front of his face. He doesn’t respond, only blinks at me with that serene, vacant expression. “Oh, Kasey - you broke his brain!”

“And I’d do it again! I don’t know how it’s possible that we can do this, honestly. Goes against most of the occult lore I know. I guess I have to thank Aiden, because he made me-” Kasey stops and turns around as Aiden steps into the kitchen, the glasses on his face and two bags of takeout in his hands. “Oh, here’s my opportunity. Thanks for the sex, Aiden.”

“You’re welcome,” he answers, then comes to a sharp stop, blinking at her. “Wait, the-? What?”

“Ay, thank you Aiden,” Will agrees brightly, without seeming to have heard anything that was said.

“What’s happening, right now?” Aiden stares at Will with obvious alarm. “Will? You alright, dude?”

Will’s leaf-green eyes lift to Aiden, blinking hard as he struggles to pull himself back to the present.

“Half - half a minute, dear friend,” he manages, running a hand through his blonde hair. “I’m - just-”

“He’s fine, believe me.” I cross the kitchen to kiss Aiden’s cheek and take the hot wings from his hands. “The ghosts have just been, um - busy.”

Aiden’s eyebrows lift as he puts two and two together.

“Oh, my god,” he sputters, drawing back with wide eyes. “That’s what you two have been up to? What - how fucking long has it been?”

“That’s not what we were doing the whole time,” Kasey clarifies. “We had to sleep and recharge for a while, and then we made a secondary discovery of an ability that we have, and that’s taken up a lot of our time, too. We’ve been practicing, figuring out how to do it right - come on, we’ll show you!”

“Pass,” Aiden says firmly.

“It’s not that, Aiden! It’s unrelated to the first discovery. It's something else, something that could help us with the case!” Kasey takes Will’s hand. “Will, come on, let’s go.”

“Whither, my shade?” he asks, his green eyes smiling.

“To the garden!” Kasey is already headed for the door. “To show them what we can do!”