The sun lit up the incoming clouds with a glow that reminded her of the way electric lights used to pollute the night sky of her old world. Then the faint glow became a fire almost as bright as the flash of fireworks.
A barking dog in distance brought her out of her moment of respite, and she took a deep breath. One last glance at the beautiful sky and she headed back in to the greenhouse. John was bent over checking on a tulip and straightened up as she came in.
“Just doing the rounds and saying goodnight to the beauties,” he said with a relaxed smile.
“Do you need any help?” Evelyn asked.
“Could you say goodnight to the roses? They’re a bit fussy and are upset you haven’t visited with them much since I started working,” John made the comment off hand as if flowers needed attention like a pet would.
It was quite odd how he personified the flowers, but even in her previous world there were people that talked about their plants like they were alive. It probably just meant he would continue to take care of them.
Though it could be something more magical, she hadn’t seen anything actually magical in this world. People claimed dragons lived in the Eastern mountains which they said was why the Zendet tribes never tried to push the border unlike the Northern Onavat Nation. Then again, the tales of war she had heard claimed the Onavat’s had shamans who practiced magic, and that magic was banned in Asala because people with magic were spies.
There were also claims that elusive unicorns lived in the southern mountains forests. Maybe John had seen one since he was from there.
But it was probably all just people making things up for unexplained phenomena just like it had been in her old world. This place seemed similar to numerous historical fantasy stories, but also seemed a lot like her world’s past.
“Have you ever seen a unicorn, John?” She asked absentmindedly as she walked over toward the roses.
“Uh, what brought this question about?” he sounded surprised.
“Oh, I was just thinking about how you were from the southern forests and I remembered hearing people saying unicorns live there,” she didn’t want to admit she was wondering if he had some sort of plant magic since magic seemed to be anathema to the people of the empire.
“Seeing a unicorn is considered a deeply personal experience among the southern people. Unicorns see into the souls of people and only converse with souls who are pure of heart. What a unicorn says to you is something you might only share with someone you are very close with,” his voice sounded a little rough.
Evelyn felt bad for asking. She hadn’t realized that any culture would treat a unicorn like it was something only discussed in the bedroom. Looking over at him, she could see the red sunset lighting up his still figure that was sitting with hand touching the soil. His distant expression made her realize he might also be having a nostalgic moment for the home he hadn’t seen in years.
She leaned down and let a breath out over a pot of pink roses. The science of her old worlds said talking to plants was just good because of the carbon dioxide one breathed out when speaking was good for the plants. She put a finger against the soil checking the moisture levels while whispering to them, “Goodnight”. It felt funny to do it, but it was what John had asked her to do, and he seemed to be very adept at plant care.
“I saw one when I was a child,” John’s voice surprised her. She hadn’t expected him to say more on the topic after saying it was something you didn’t talk about.
She wondered if he was going to say more, or if she would mention that he had just said you don’t tell people about unicorn experiences. She moved onto the next pot. If he wanted to give her more information, he would.
Sure enough after another two pots were done, he continued. “I’m not in the south anymore, so maybe the old rules don’t apply as much. I was excited after the sighting and the very short conversation, so I ran to tell my parents. They were the ones who told me I shouldn’t tell anyone else unless I was very close with them. Now that I think about it, it was probably like bragging and could cause jealousy among those who hadn’t seen a unicorn. But I did swear to them that even if I ever trusted someone enough to tell them I saw a unicorn, I wouldn’t divulge what the unicorn said to me except to the person I married, so I can’t tell you more than that.”
Evelyn felt honored that he trusted her enough to tell her that much if it was such a taboo in his culture. “Thank you for sharing with me. I hadn’t realized it was such a personal topic. I honestly had thought they were more of a myth than anything else.”
“They aren’t a myth. Nor is their ability to see a soul,” he immediately refuted.
“I believe you. Maybe part of what made them seem like a myth is the secrecy around sightings,” it felt strange to realize a myth might be real. Even as she told him she believed him, she wondered if she would truly think that until she met one in person since it was drilled in her head that they weren’t real back in the old world. It was like being told Santa Claus was real.
“That’s why I decided to tell you. People in central Asala often seem to disbelieve things they haven’t seen with their own eyes,” John’s words were like a rebuke of her thoughts.
The light was dimming and Evelyn said goodnight to the last rose bush as the last tinges of light bled from the clouds.
A soft touch against her shoulder startled her. It was John. “I wanted to apologize for the way I said that earlier. I’ve just often heard central Asalans calling elusive creatures like unicorns and dragons a myth and it’s always been something that bothered me. I’ve never tried to correct anyone in the past. I just wanted you to know the truth,” his voice sounded much softer.
In the dim light Evelyn could just barely see the worry on his face as he looked searchingly for her acceptance. His tone had been harsh, but he’d been talking about a sensitive subject. Evelyn gave him a smile in return, “It’s fine, I’m glad you were willing to tell me the truth. It’s kind of cool to think unicorns actually are real. We should go in now though, or we’ll be trying to light the candles in the dark,” Evelyn redirected the conversation and quickly turned and headed into the shop. She could hear John shuffling around behind her, but he didn’t seem to be following her.
She was glad that the light was dim. She was feeling a little flustered by that last moment in the dying light of the evening. Once inside she took a deep breath and calmed herself. That openness John expressed felt too personal. She pulled out a candle and matches, and lit the slow burning jar candle.
John still wasn’t in. She should bring a candle out for him so he could see without tripping over anything. She took another deep breath. He was her employee, and it had just been the light and the tone of his voice. Nothing more.
She stepped back into the greenhouse.
“Just finishing settling the plants in for the night,” he said as he saw her light.
“It's getting quite dark and it didn’t want you accidentally tripping over anything,” she validated her reason for bringing the light out. He leaned over one last plant, and then came toward her.
“Finished now,” he said as he reached her candle light.
She stepped to the side for him to enter, and she realized he’d already moved all the plants from inside the shop to the greenhouse. She hadn’t noticed when she’d first lit the candle.
“See you tomorrow morning!” she called out as he made his way to the door with his cane thumping against the wooden floor.
He turned back to give her a gentle smile and a wave, “See you tomorrow.”
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