to ask.....well, she would probably have to ask Trin or Jen. Sasha hadn’t been here long enough to know the plants.
Why would the water create a window box with weeds in it, anyway? If this world was all some idealized fantasy to put her at ease, the place should be weed free. Unless, of course, the window box was there expressly to give her something to do, something to focus on besides her miserable life. That would make more sense.
She studied the window box again. After all, it was her window box, in her house. She could decide for herself which plants she wanted there and which to get rid of. Her spirits lifted still more. This meaningful work thing wasn’t so bad once you got into it.
She hunted around the house and found a broom constructed of some dried plant material. She shoved the question of how it dried under the ocean out of her mind and set to work sweeping out the house. For some reason, there really was quite a lot of dirt on the floor. Some fantasy this turned out to be. Who ever heard of a fantasy world where you had to do housework?
She put the broom away and gazed out through the front door. The sunlight rippled over the meadow, and the great sea creatures cast their shadows over the radiant grass. She gave a little sigh. She wouldn’t admit to herself it was a sigh of contentment, because so many questions still remained unanswered, then she caught sight of a group of men emerge from behind the trees.
Most of them were stripped to the waist and spackled with mud. They carried spades in their hands and picks over their shoulders, and they still sang deep, masculine work songs. They laughed and jostled each other on their way across the meadow toward the wall in the distance. Why was Frieda seeing them now, when she just finished sweeping her house?
Just then, one of them caught sight of her and stopped in mid-stride. Frieda recognized Deek. She hadn’t seen him at the work site, but he must have been there working with the others. He looked across the meadow at her, and his companions walked on without him. At last, he turned and came toward her.
Her reserve melted. She’d done some constructive work, and the satisfaction clung to her still. She smiled at him when he approached. “Did you have a good time?”
He smiled back. “Yes, I did. What about you?”
She waved to the house. “Do you know anything about these plants?”
“What about them?” he asked.
“Are any of them weeds?” she asked.
He frowned. “What does that word mean?”
“A weed is a plant that’s growing where you don’t want it,” she explained. “It robs the plants you do want of water and nutrients, and you take it out to give your own plants more space.”
He inspected the box. “That doesn’t happen here. Plants grow where they grow. They don’t grow where they aren’t supposed to grow, and you don’t take them out in favor of others. You just let them grow.”
Frieda pursed her lips. So much for that. “Never mind. Would you like to come in?”
He cast a sidelong glance at her. “I thought you wanted to be alone.”
She waved her hand. “I did.”
He shrugged. “All right.” But he didn’t step toward the house. He stepped away from it.
In front of her eyes, a rippling mirage passed over him. He turned his face upwards into it, and it shimmered down his body to his feet and dissipated into the ground. Where he once stood bare-chested and dirty, he now stood perfectly clean, in a fresh white shirt. Not even a smudge of mud remained on his shoes. His black hair hung neat and clean and orderly down his back. Even the dirt under his fingernails disappeared.
Frieda scanned him up and down. Then she nodded. At least he wouldn’t track mud on her clean floor. She stood aside, and he stepped into the room. His presence instantly brightened the room. She pulled out her chair for him to sit down, and she sat on the bed across from him.
He looked around the room. “It’s nice