“Me and Jackson.”
“So much we and not enough I, Cookie. You hardheaded.” She sucked her teeth. “And he’s a wanderer who doesn’t want to see nothing. The dangerous type. You’ll be in trouble soon. Mark my words.”
“No, I won’t. I’ll just be in love,” Etta replied.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“You better hurry up.” Madame Peaks sniffed Etta once they got back upstairs. “Sage and amber.”
“What?”
“You smell.”
“What do you mean?”
“When a soul is being taken, this scent, your scent, is released. Calling death. The body is a discarded, charred building left behind once the soul is gone.” She bent forward over Etta with an ancient-looking stethoscope, pressing it to Etta’s chest. She closed her wrinkled eyes as she listened to the slow chug of Etta’s heart. The tiny flutters sent a buzzy lightness through Etta; any moment now she’d drift away like a feather.
“It’s winding down, turning to dust, girl.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You know the options. First, regrow the heart you got. Second, choose one of mine from the cellar. Third, find your beloved again.”
“But I can’t. It’s over. He doesn’t want me anymore. I lost him.”
“Women don’t lose men. There’s nothing you could’ve done. Men leave women for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes it’s too hot outside. Other times, their bellies ache. It could be too windy that day. It’s when women tether their hearts only to the whims of men that they turn to ash.”
“My mama said you cast our stars.”
“I did. But the universe has other plans.”
“What will happen to him? Will his heart die, too?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He got something else coming his way. Don’t you worry. You won’t suffer all the consequences. But for now, focus on yourself and stop worrying about him. You’ve got to grow your own tree.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“How much will regrowing a heart cost?” Etta asked.
“Everything you have, child.” Madame Peaks led Etta to the chaise in her living room. Etta laid across it. Madame Peaks lit incense. Clouds of smoke drifted up and around her head. Flies paused on the windowsill, brown moths froze flat against the windowpane, cinder and smoke rose through the old floorboards like wisps of steam, candle flames stretched into long bars of light.
Mirrors fogged. Liquid boiled in the jars. The walls erupted in flames. Madame Peaks took deep breaths over Etta. “Ashes cannot be remade into flesh.”
“But won’t I die?”
“Your old heart will, but your soul will wait for the new one to bloom.”
“How?”
“The roots always provide.”
Etta was too weak to protest or be afraid.
“But you must promise me something, child.”
“Yes,” Etta replied.
“Never give your heart to another.”
Etta thought of Ms. Mildred. “So I can never fall in love again?”
“No. You can, but hearts are your own to keep. They’re to keep you alive. Give your affection. Give your love. Give your time, but nothing so vital to your own survival. Be careful with giving away parts of yourself before you understand them fully. You’re free of the stars now, so choose wisely in the future. After you know yourself. Love is not supposed to poison your own well.”
Etta nodded.
Madame Peaks hunched over Etta, her breathing turned into a hissing wind. Papers scattered everywhere, glass jars crashed onto the ground, the red globes in the window wobbled, threatening to drop.
Red dust poured out of Etta’s nose and mouth and swirled. Madame Peaks opened the tiny perfume bottle and its contents joined the rest.
The ash hovered above her like a thunderous cloud ready to expel lightning.
Her chest felt empty and hollow.
“Open your mouth, child, quick.”
Etta let her neck drop back and opened her lips like a baby bird ready to receive whatever the woman had. She placed a blue-petaled chicory flower on Etta’s tongue.
“Swallow it whole,” Madame Peaks directed.
A warmth burst through Etta’s chest, and the tiny pulse of a heart drummed.
“You rest now. The new heart will take a day to grow. I’ll watch over you.”
Etta’s eyelids closed at Madame Peaks’s command, and she muttered a promise to her—and to herself: “I’ll never give my heart away again.”
“Rest, child. The cycle of light and dark will begin. You will remember your favorite moment with your beloved and your worst moment. The only way to the light is through the dark.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“I will never be able to not remember the way you look,” Jackson told her the first time they’d taken all their clothes off in front of each other.
“Is that a good thing?” Etta had asked; a deep blush rushed through her like she’d been electrocuted.
“You are someone I will never be able to forget. A melody I can never erase,” he whispered in her ear.
She ran her fingers over his brown chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, then letting them tangle in the soft curls that covered his skin. His hands found the curves of her body, leaving their warmth.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
“It’s just not working,” Jackson had whispered. His bare legs hung over the side of Etta’s bed. The moon had just started to rise outside the window behind him. He wasn’t even supposed to be in her room. Mama didn’t like company upstairs. But Etta always broke the rules for him.
“What do you mean?” Etta arched her back. “We’ve had the best days together. That big diorama you made me was the most beautiful thing in the whole world. Did I not tell you that enough?”
“I don’t know . . . it’s just been hard.”
“What’s been hard?” Etta tried to touch his cheek, but he jerked away, flinching like she was a stranger touching him for the first time.
“I feel like I should be doing something else. That this has had its run. I need to be on my own for a little bit.”