sort of sense."
"The load of your family's dementia opened the way for me, sweetness. All of your family are touched by it, even you."
"You're saying that's how I got through the portal?" I took in the torn, half-on/half-off dress, remembered how I had staggered and ranted in the alley. "You're saying I had to be unhinged to get in."
Eloy roared. He was laughing, the way he'd laughed only once before. I lifted my hands to cover my ears, but it turned out I didn't need to. His laughter didn't overpower me.
"I think I missed the joke again."
"Marry me, my darling, lunatic Annabel."
"Of course I will."
"Do you love me?"
I scowled. "I said I did. We're going to be one of those couples that bicker a lot, aren't we?"
He hefted me into his arms as though I weighed nothing and stood. "It is time for me to return to my people. I am no longer an exile, and this is no longer my prison. You have set me free."
I was suddenly shy. "What will your people think of me? I'm different from them."
"My love, you are indeed different. I hope you will not mind too much." He faced us to the wall, and it became a sheer, reflective surface, the biggest full-length mirror I'd ever seen.
Eloy held a woman in his arms, but not a human woman. She had dusky-indigo skin and hair as blue as the evening sky. Her face was pointed like a fox's, and her eyes were pools of black. She wore an ugly, pink dress that didn't suit her, but even so, she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.
As I gaped, Eloy set her on her feet. I tottered forward, and only when my hands touched the wall, fingertip to fingertip, did I believe it.
"How --"
"It is complicated. May we just call it magic and let it go at that?"
I burble-rumbled.
"You don't mind?"
I laughed. It was a roar. "Mind? I love me!" I threw my arms around him.
"You are also taller," he rumbled, "which will prove convenient."
"It will?"
"Yes, it will." He tipped my head back and kissed me. And I had to agree that yes, it was indeed more convenient.
Secure in the arms of my beloved, I was eager to discover the marvels of a new world, embrace my new people, and most of all, to revel in the madness of love.
Under Janey's Garden
by Margit Elland Schmitt
Artwork by Nick Greenwood
----
This was Janey's garden. Peas and beans climbing over the back fence, corn standing in a crooked row right next to lacy-topped carrots. Pumpkins sprawling in a tangle with the squashes in the corner, bragging up their yellow-gold blooms. Cucumbers, pretending to be all innocent while they hid under the pumpkins' prickly leaves and thought about taking over the unsuspecting herbs in the patch next over. Marigolds bright and gold, buddied up with the tomatoes.
Janey's garden, and ten-year-old Janey sat in it with her eyes squinched nearly shut while the sun baked down on her old, straw hat, and the ice cubes clinked and melted in the glass of lemonade at her side. She was waiting for Mom to finish her phone call.
Janey's back itched where the sweat was trickling down between her shoulder blades. It wasn't as if it'd be less hot for her scratching, but she did it anyway in an absent-minded way. Her dusty fingers, dirt ground into black crescents under each nail, would leave a smudge across the back of her t-shirt. She didn't care. She was watching the back corner, the spot near the biggest pumpkin, and yeah, something moved.
"Rabbit's back again," she said.
Mom was busy. She was watering the roses up against the back porch. Those roses weren't properly part of the garden, but they were pretty, blooming big and soft and yellow up against the wood. Mom thought she was watering the roses, but she was really talking on the cell phone, so most of the water from the hose was runneling off in another direction. If the clients and distributors didn't get their acts together soon, there wasn't going to be anything left on that side of the house but one drowned and sorry-looking apple
"The load of your family's dementia opened the way for me, sweetness. All of your family are touched by it, even you."
"You're saying that's how I got through the portal?" I took in the torn, half-on/half-off dress, remembered how I had staggered and ranted in the alley. "You're saying I had to be unhinged to get in."
Eloy roared. He was laughing, the way he'd laughed only once before. I lifted my hands to cover my ears, but it turned out I didn't need to. His laughter didn't overpower me.
"I think I missed the joke again."
"Marry me, my darling, lunatic Annabel."
"Of course I will."
"Do you love me?"
I scowled. "I said I did. We're going to be one of those couples that bicker a lot, aren't we?"
He hefted me into his arms as though I weighed nothing and stood. "It is time for me to return to my people. I am no longer an exile, and this is no longer my prison. You have set me free."
I was suddenly shy. "What will your people think of me? I'm different from them."
"My love, you are indeed different. I hope you will not mind too much." He faced us to the wall, and it became a sheer, reflective surface, the biggest full-length mirror I'd ever seen.
Eloy held a woman in his arms, but not a human woman. She had dusky-indigo skin and hair as blue as the evening sky. Her face was pointed like a fox's, and her eyes were pools of black. She wore an ugly, pink dress that didn't suit her, but even so, she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.
As I gaped, Eloy set her on her feet. I tottered forward, and only when my hands touched the wall, fingertip to fingertip, did I believe it.
"How --"
"It is complicated. May we just call it magic and let it go at that?"
I burble-rumbled.
"You don't mind?"
I laughed. It was a roar. "Mind? I love me!" I threw my arms around him.
"You are also taller," he rumbled, "which will prove convenient."
"It will?"
"Yes, it will." He tipped my head back and kissed me. And I had to agree that yes, it was indeed more convenient.
Secure in the arms of my beloved, I was eager to discover the marvels of a new world, embrace my new people, and most of all, to revel in the madness of love.
Under Janey's Garden
by Margit Elland Schmitt
Artwork by Nick Greenwood
----
This was Janey's garden. Peas and beans climbing over the back fence, corn standing in a crooked row right next to lacy-topped carrots. Pumpkins sprawling in a tangle with the squashes in the corner, bragging up their yellow-gold blooms. Cucumbers, pretending to be all innocent while they hid under the pumpkins' prickly leaves and thought about taking over the unsuspecting herbs in the patch next over. Marigolds bright and gold, buddied up with the tomatoes.
Janey's garden, and ten-year-old Janey sat in it with her eyes squinched nearly shut while the sun baked down on her old, straw hat, and the ice cubes clinked and melted in the glass of lemonade at her side. She was waiting for Mom to finish her phone call.
Janey's back itched where the sweat was trickling down between her shoulder blades. It wasn't as if it'd be less hot for her scratching, but she did it anyway in an absent-minded way. Her dusty fingers, dirt ground into black crescents under each nail, would leave a smudge across the back of her t-shirt. She didn't care. She was watching the back corner, the spot near the biggest pumpkin, and yeah, something moved.
"Rabbit's back again," she said.
Mom was busy. She was watering the roses up against the back porch. Those roses weren't properly part of the garden, but they were pretty, blooming big and soft and yellow up against the wood. Mom thought she was watering the roses, but she was really talking on the cell phone, so most of the water from the hose was runneling off in another direction. If the clients and distributors didn't get their acts together soon, there wasn't going to be anything left on that side of the house but one drowned and sorry-looking apple
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