The image of the Absyrtus Heart was burned into my mind. I Googled “human heart” and a video came up in the search results for a donor heart that was kept pumping by a system of tubes and machines. If it had been flipped upside down and rooted in the ground, it would have been the same as the plant in the garden. I closed the video, tossed my phone toward the end of my bed, and tried to fall asleep.

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 26

The next morning, I found Mo in the kitchen scrambling eggs and making toast.

“Need me to get the fire extinguisher?” I asked.

“Hush,” she said.

I eased myself onto a seat at the table. The swelling in my ankle had gone down, but it still ached. I didn’t think I’d be able to get back into the garden yet, but I couldn’t stop thinking of the Heart.

Mom came into the kitchen wearing a billowy red bonnet and a raggedy robe that looked like Freddy Krueger had used it for practice before he sliced those kids up on Elm Street.

“This pollen is tryna kill me today,” she said, sniffling. “Bri, baby, I know you’re laid up, but your arm still works, right? We gotta stay on top of the dust if y’all want me to live. All the sills I cleaned last week already have a layer of green dust on them.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. Only thing getting me out of Sunday morning cleaning was probably death, so after I finished breakfast, I found the broom and a bunch of clean rags, then hobbled to the apothecary to get started.

I opened the windows in the shop, letting a warm breeze waft through. The sun slanted through the stained glass window on the outer wall, casting blue and green columns of light onto the floor. Down the hall, I heard the familiar notes of Sam Cooke’s crooning, and I smiled. They’d played that song at their wedding and I loved it—but now, it was house-cleaning music, which would be followed by either Earth, Wind & Fire or Zapp & Roger. Broke ankle or not, it was time to clean.

I grabbed a rag and dampened it under the faucet. A thick layer of dust sat in the grooves of the open window, tinged green from all the pollen wafting through the air. I cleaned it out and moved on to the overhang of wooden trim that went around the entire room. Dragging the cloth along, I made my way back behind the closet-sized drying rack.

A frayed piece of the rag caught on the trim where it had come away from the wall. I yanked hard, trying to pull it free. It broke loose with a soft click, and a small, narrow door opened in front of me. A gust of sweet-smelling air wafted out.

“Mom! Mo!”