Page 26 of Never Been Gargoyled (Harmony Glen #4)

Dazy

T he next morning, I woke up wrapped in Feydin's arms, his tail coiled around my waist and his wings creating a warm cocoon around us.

For a moment, I let myself pretend that everything was normal.

That I wasn't facing the possibility of losing my home to a woman who may have every legal right to claim it.

But reality crept in as sunlight filtered through the curtains. Helga's diary existed. Rebecca was her daughter. The judge would probably side with a close blood relative over a great-niece who'd inherited everything on what might appear as a whim.

“You're thinking too loudly,” Feydin said against my hair.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you.”

“I was already awake. Watching you sleep.”

I turned in his arms to face him. “That's not creepy at all. ”

“You make these little sounds when you dream. Happy sounds. I like knowing your dreams are good ones.”

The sweetness of that statement made my chest ache. Here was this incredible male who loved me, who'd turned my world upside down in the best possible way, and I might have to leave him behind along with everything else.

“What if we lose?” I asked quietly.

“Then we'll deal with it.”

“We?”

His eyes met mine, and I found so much certainty there. “Where you go, I go.”

“But this is your home. You've been here for years.”

“You're my home now.”

The simple way he said it, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, made tears prick my eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Which is why we're not giving up without a fight.”

After breakfast, we threw ourselves into garden work with what felt like desperation. If I was going to lose this place, I wanted to leave it better than I'd found it. Maybe Rebecca would appreciate the improvements. Maybe she'd understand why Helga had loved it here.

Feydin sensed my need to stay busy. He worked beside me without complaint, hauling stones for the pathways I was designing, helping me transplant the struggling perennials we'd rescued from the overgrown beds .

“These hostas will look amazing once they fill in,” I said, patting soil around the roots of a particularly large plant.

“You're talking about them like you'll see them mature.”

“Someone will. Even if it's not me.”

He paused in his digging. “You're accepting that we might lose.”

“I'm trying to be realistic.” I sat back on my heels, wiping hair off my face. “The diary changes everything. Rebecca has proof she's Helga's daughter, and proof that Helga knew she existed. How do I argue with that?”

“By proving that Helga had good reasons for the choice she made.”

“What if she didn't? What if it was just a whim?”

Feydin set down his shovel and came over to crouch beside me.

“The woman who restored this place from nothing? Who spent years creating something beautiful for future generations to enjoy? That doesn’t sound like a woman who’d leave the estate to someone on a whim.

She knew you. And knew you’d be the best to take care of this estate she loved. ”

“Then why didn't she respond to Rebecca's letters?”

“I don't know, but there has to be a reason.”

I wanted to believe him. But the evidence was stacked against us, and I was tired of false hope.

“Let's focus on making this place beautiful,” I said. “Whatever happens, happens.”

We continued working after that, the physical labor helping to quiet my anxious thoughts. Feydin had an eye for design, suggesting placement for plants and pathways that somehow made everything look more natural and flowing.

“You should've been a landscape architect,” I told him as we stepped back to admire our progress.

“Helga was a good teacher.”

“Why didn’t she ever mention her daughter to you?”

He shrugged. “I assume because…” A frown filled his face. “I sensed she’d made peace with her life the way it was. She was a quiet person, and I didn’t pry into her past, just accepted what she wanted to tell me about the here and now. She was a kind woman. I miss her.”

Around noon, we heard voices coming up the drive. I looked up from the flower bed I was weeding to see a small group of humans and monsters approaching, their arms full of packages and baskets.

“Looks like the welcome committee finally arrived,” Feydin said.

I recognized several faces from my trips to town.

Dorvak from the bakery, looking uncomfortable but determined.

Someone was carrying a basket of produce, perhaps from Ogram’s farmer’s market, though Ogram wasn’t with them.

A woman I'd seen at the library, and two others I hadn’t met before were also part of the group.

“Dazy?” The woman I’d seen at the library stepped forward with a warm smile. “I'm Liana.” She thrust out a carton of eggs. “These are from my own chickens. A little welcome to town gift. I hope you don't mind us stopping by without calling first.”

“Not at all. So nice to meet you.”

“We brought some things to welcome you to Harmony Glen,” one of the others said, setting the produce basket down on the stone wall we'd been working on. “Ogram sent this. He’s…the quiet type. Anyway. We should've done this sooner, but small towns move slow sometimes.”

“This is really thoughtful of you.”

Dorvak stepped forward awkwardly, holding a box from his bakery. “Bread. And some of those pastries you like.”

“You didn't have to do that.”

“Wanted to,” he said gruffly, then looked at Feydin. “How's everything working out?”

The tips of Feydin's ears darkened. “Very well, thank you.”

“Good.”

The other woman, who introduced herself as Laney, gave me a small basket full of tea sachets.

“My own special blends. We heard about your plans here,” her bright gaze swept the gardens, “and we couldn’t resist stopping by.

You’re planning to open a botanical garden, correct?

I can tell it’s going to be amazing already. ”

“Have you heard about the legal situation?” I asked. “Rebecca Hartwell?”

The group exchanged glances.

“We heard,” the woman who’d brought Ogram’s basket said carefully.

“We think she's making a mistake trying to take this place from you,” Laney said. “Some of the older folks in town remember when Helga first moved here. How she transformed the estate into something magical.”

“I bet she’d want someone who loves it as much as she did to bring it back to life,” Liana added. “Not give it to someone who might only see it as a business opportunity.”

“You don't even know me that well.”

“We know enough,” Dorvak said. His gaze slid to Laney and color flooded his cheeks.

Their faith in me was overwhelming.

“There's something else,” Laney said, looking a bit nervous. “We've been talking, and if you're serious about opening this as a botanical garden, we'd like to help. Not financially,” she added quickly, “but with our time. We could put signs up, spread the word to any tourists in town.”

“I don't know what to say.”

“Say yes,” Feydin said by my side. “These people want to be part of what you're building.”

“But what if I lose the legal case?”

“We believe it’ll work out,” someone said.

After they left, I sat on the stone wall surrounded by their gifts, feeling overwhelmed.

The basket from Ogram contained vegetables, fruit, and a jar of honey.

Laney’s tea sachets were carefully labeled and smelled amazing.

Someone else had brought books about local gardening and a list of community contacts who might be interested in educational programs.

“They really want this to work,” I said, tears in my eyes .

“They want you to succeed,” Feydin said. “There's a difference.”

“Is there?”

“The garden is an excuse. They see something in you worth supporting.”

“What do they see that I don't?”

“Someone who cares about more than herself. Someone who wants to create a beautiful place for others to enjoy.”

I thought about that as we went back to work.

When I'd first arrived at Winterbourne Estate, I'd been focused on my own fresh start, my own dreams. But somewhere along the way, those dreams had expanded to include other people.

The visitors who would walk these paths.

The children who would learn about plants in the greenhouse.

The community that would gather here for festivals and celebrations.

Maybe that's what Helga had seen in me. Not someone who would restore the estate, but someone who would share it.

“I want to fight for this,” I said suddenly.

Feydin looked up from the bench he was assembling. “I agree, but what changed your mind?”

“Those people believed in me before they had any reason to. How can I let them down?”

“You're not letting anyone down by facing impossible odds.”

“Maybe they're not impossible. I’m sure we’re missing something.”

“Like what? ”

“I don't know yet. But I'm done wallowing. If Rebecca wants this place, she's going to have to prove she deserves it more than I do.”

Feydin's smile was brilliant. “There's my fierce mate.”

“Your what now?”

His expression froze, panic flashing across his features. “I meant… That is…”

“Did you just call me your mate?”

“It's a gargoyle thing,” he said quickly. “Like girlfriend, but more permanent.”

“More permanent how?”

“Very permanent. Like, for life permanent.”

I stared at him. “Are you proposing to me?”

“No! I mean, not exactly. Not yet. It's complicated.”

“Feydin.”

“Gargoyles mate for life,” he said in a rush. “When we find our person, that's it. There's no one else, ever. And you're…” His wings flared out and he met my eyes. “You're mine. If you want to be.”

The vulnerability in his voice, and the way he braced himself for rejection, made my heart ache. “You're saying I'm your person?”

“Yes.”

“Your one and only?”

“Yes.”

“For life?”

“Yes.”

Tapping my chin, I pretended to consider this seriously. “Well, when you put it like that. ”

“Dazy.”

I grinned. “I like the sound of being your mate. It's very official. Very permanent.”

Relief loosened his shoulders. “Really?”

“Really. Though you might want to work on your delivery next time. That was possibly the least romantic declaration of eternal love I've ever heard.”

“I'll practice.”

“You do that.” I stood up and kissed him, tasting happiness and hope and the promise of whatever future we'd build together. “Now come on, mate. We have a garden to finish.”

As we worked through the afternoon, I felt something I hadn't experienced in a long time, a sense of belonging. Not just to this place, but to the community that had embraced me, and to the male who loved me enough to follow me anywhere.

Rebecca might have the law on her side. But I had something more powerful.

I had people who believed in me.