Weed recoils as if struck. “No!” he exclaims. “That garden is dangerous. Dangerous for me—dangerous for everyone.”

Father scowls, puzzled. So far he has not even acknowledged my presence, but I step forward now to explain. “Father, even walking near the apothecary garden made Weed feel very ill. Perhaps he is afraid that some harm may come to him if he enters it.”

To my amazement, Father places his hands gently on Weed’s shoulders. He speaks warmly, as a father would speak to a beloved son. “It may be a difficult thing I ask of you, but I implore you to at least try. Remember, it is not for me I ask. Think of the people who might be cured.”

I have never seen Father speak so humbly, so earnestly, to anyone.

Weed turns his gaze to me. Our eyes meet, and though the table is between us, it is suddenly as if our kiss never ended. Even now I am standing in his arms, our lips pressed together, breathing his clean, sunwarmed scent.

“Jessamine.” His voice warms me, deep inside. “What would you have me do?”

Father looks at me too, waiting for my answer. I know full well what he would have me say. Oh, I am torn! Heaven knows how much and for how long I have yearned to go inside that forbidden garden—but does Weed know something I do not?

Think of the people who might be cured….

That is what Father said, but in my heart I hear:

It is too late to save Mama… but think of the others….

“Father will not allow any harm to come to you,” I say firmly. “You must trust him fully, just as you trust me. And I will come into the garden, too,” I add, looking hard at Father, “and stay by your side every minute, Weed.”

Father nods his assent.

“As you wish.” Weed sounds reluctant but resigned, as if a long-dreaded fate he knows he cannot escape has finally come to pass. “Tomorrow it is, then.”

With no warning, Father turns and hugs me, tightly, as if I were a child. I cannot remember the last time he has done that. I know it has been years.

“Into the garden we go, Jessamine,” he murmurs into my hair. “It is time.”

9

24th April

The weather is fair and mild.

Father says I am not permitted to write about what happens today. The contents of the apothecary garden must remain secret.

Did I mention that the weather is fair?

THE KEY TO THE APOTHECARY GARDEN hangs on a large circular key ring that I have never seen before. Father slips it out of his pocket with practiced familiarity.