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Chapter Text

“I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
I know why the caged bird sings!”
-Sympathy by Paul Laurence Dunbar

The glass slipping from her fingers registered in a hazy sort of way in Celeste’s mind. It was the kind of blurred thinking reserved only for when she was nearing the edge of tipsy, and three gin and tonics had left her motor skills with something to be desired. The shattering sound the glass made when it hit the ground brought her back to the edge of sober.

Celeste cursed under her breath as she stumbled away to avoid getting hit by shards of glass. The toes of her brown work boots were already darkened by brief contact with the spilled liquid that was now spreading across the hardwood floors. To top it off, the patrons of the Stardrop Saloon—and the people who had been her neighbors for just under a week—were all staring at her now, alarmed by the sudden commotion. One of the saloon workers came towards her with a mop and a dustpan to save her from embarrassment.

“Hey there,” the bartender said. Her voice and smile were as bright as her hair, which was electric blue. “It’s no big deal. Shane does this at least like, twice a week. Although, he is a pretty clumsy person.” She paused and tapped her chin, as if contemplating her claim, then shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll get this cleaned up for you.”

“Thanks,” Celeste said and swallowed, trying to keep her voice even. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she tried not to stare too much at the bartender, who was now scraping bits of glass into the dustpan. “I’m sorry.”

The bartender looked up and flashed another one of her wide grins. Celeste wondered if her cheeks ever hurt from doing that. “Really, it’s not a problem. It’s all part of the job,” the girl said. “I’m Emily, by the way. You just moved to the new farm, right? The one that Old Man Marley used to live on?”

“Right,” Celeste replied. “I’m Celeste, his granddaughter.”

Emily’s face retained its friendly expression, but there was a note of sadness in it now. “That farm hasn’t been occupied for some time, huh?” she said with a hint of hesitation. The glass was almost all swept up by this point and now only the tiny pieces, which were so small that Celeste could hardly see them, were left.

Celeste fought back a sigh. Thinking about her grandfather always made her feel heavy, like weights hung from her muscles. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s…a lot different than what I remember as a kid.”

When Celeste first arrived on her grandfather’s farm, his pride and joy, she’d been taken aback by how overgrown it was. Weeds, sticks, and stones covered every inch of the farm as far out as she could see, and she spent her first few days clearing the patch of land outside her farmhouse just so she could get into town. Today, she’d finally made enough space to plant the packets of parsnip seeds Mayor Lewis had gifted her as a welcome-to-town gesture.

Emily nodded, looking at Celeste in a way that let her know she was listening. Then she glanced back down at the dustpan and tilted it back and forth a couple times so that the glass shards swam from one side to the other.

“So, um, Celeste. That’s a cool name,” Emily said as she rose with the dustpan in hand. Even with both of them standing, Celeste towered over her by a good six inches or so. “Any special meaning?”

Emily sure was inquisitive. Celeste didn’t know how she felt about that.

“Not really.”

Around them, the saloon had returned to a steady level of chatter, and she was relieved to see that no one was paying much attention to her anymore. The flames in the fireplace crackled and nipped the air, filling it with a warmth that turned Celeste’s normally olive skin just a bit red. Enveloped by the sense of coziness, she began to relax.

“Oh, I love your hair, too,” Emily said and pointed to the gray, wavy strands that floated over Celeste’s ears and down her cheeks, stopping just over her shoulders.

“Oh.” Celeste tugged on her hair, feeling her flush deepen. Her hair had been going gray since the day she turned twenty and hadn’t stopped for the eight years after. It was something she’d always been insecure about. “Thank you.”

Emily was still holding the dustpan, and Celeste idly wondered when she had to leave the conversation to take care of it. The thought bothered her more than she was willing to admit.

“You’re absolutely welcome.” There was that winning smile again. “Listen, why don’t you come hang out with me by the bar while I keep working? We don’t get a lot of new people in town, and I’d just love to get to know you better!” Emily turned towards the bar and beckoned Celeste to follow her, as if it was a foregone conclusion that she was going to accept the invitation to chat.

Celeste followed Emily to the rustic wooden bar and seated herself on one of the barstools. She leaned forward on her forearms and watched as Emily flitted to different customers along the bar, taking orders and making small talk. In between getting drinks for people, Emily would return to speak with Celeste, and their conversation would advance in bits and pieces.

Two drinks later, Celeste could feel her tongue beginning to loosen significantly, and her back and forth with Emily was more effortless. Her smiles, while not as full as Emily’s, were genuine and frequent.

Celeste set her drink on the bar and grinned. “Okay, you don’t actually believe in that stuff, right?”

Emily pressed a hand to her heart as she frowned. “Spiritual energy? Of course I do. It’s all around us, in every living thing,” she said. “I read auras too.”

Celeste’s grin faded as she realized that Emily was completely serious. She herself never been one for believing in magic or spirits or anything supernatural about the world. It was just easier to accept that everything had a logical explanation, even in a place as strange as the valley.

But you weren’t always that way, the small voice in the back of her head chimed in. You used to believe.

She shook her head and waited to see what Emily was going to say next.

“You don’t believe me,” Emily said with a surprisingly shy smile. She looked down at the bar as she wiped its surface clean with a white rag. “You’re not the first skeptic I’ve met. But Celeste, there’s just…” She smiled. “So much magic in this little valley. It’s one of the reasons I love it here so much, and I think you’ll see it too someday.”

“Maybe,” Celeste said, swirling her drink in her glass. She stared into the clear liquid, not wanting to meet Emily’s eyes, afraid of her seeing the vulnerability there.

“No, I don’t just think,” Emily said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know.”

Celeste stayed to talk with Emily until the saloon closed at midnight. The only people left besides them were a tired looking man standing by the fireplace with hands in his hoodie pockets and a platinum blonde wearing obscene amounts of bright purple eyeshadow; the latter had been slurring her speech for hours. There was something melancholy about the two of them that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, until she realized that it mirrored her own feelings in that moment.

“I really enjoyed talking to you tonight,” Emily said, drawing Celeste from her thoughts. “I hope I see you around at the saloon more often. Or just around town in general.”

“Yeah, of course,” Celeste replied with a small smile. “I liked talking to you too.”

Just as Celeste had a hand placed on the saloon’s door, she heard Emily call out her name.

“Celeste,” she said.

Celeste turned around to face the bar, where Emily was grinning at her. Even from far away, she could sense the sparkle in Emily’s eyes.

“Keep an open heart. The valley might just surprise you.”

The first time Celeste saw her grandfather’s grave, nestled in the corner of the farm, it was an accident. She’d been steadily working her way towards the northwest corner of her farm over the last two weeks and had finally made it to the edge when she stumbled upon it. Ivy trellises crawled up the sides of the headstone, which was surrounded by thick trees and stray branches.

She supposed she shouldn’t have been so surprised to see his grave again. The burial had happened so long ago, when she was just twelve and her whole world suddenly seemed confined to that little nook on all those acres of farmland. She had stood there in silence, clutching her mom’s hand but refusing to cry, as if that would mean admitting that he had died.

When she reached out and brushed a hand over the letters etched in stone—George Adam Marley—a sudden wind rustled the trees and whipped her hair forward so that it slapped her cheeks. She took in a shaky breath. She couldn’t explain it, but somehow she felt his presence. It wasn’t the first time, either; his essence was everywhere on that old farm. Whenever she felt it, all those weekends and summers she spent helping him take care of his crops and animals would rush back to her. All those times he acted as a gentle refuge from the shouts of her home and her parents’ contentious marriage.

“Hey there, kiddo,” he would say after her parents dropped her off at the farm. She’d come bounding out of their old pickup truck and into her grandfather’s arms. He always picked her up in his strong arms and spun her around once before setting her down. Then he would tell her a story.

There was one she remembered about a group of sirens that lived on an island not too far from the beach in Pelican Town. They had sea-swept hair that stretched down their backs and wings with plumage of every color imaginable. Their music was sweeter than any sound man or animal could make. Celeste was fascinated by their powerful magic, their voices with the ability to lure people in. She understood that the sirens were not benevolent creatures, but she’d always been drawn to people who had a captivating presence.

Maybe that was why she was so fascinated by Emily. She’d been replaying their conversation at the saloon every night since it had happened, experiencing this strange, fluttery feeling every time she did so.

As she headed back towards her farmhouse, the clouds in the sky darkened, and in the distance, frogs started to croak—a sign of approaching rain. The drops that eventually fell were a drizzle that tickled her exposed skin and cooled it so that goosebumps formed. She rubbed a hand up her arm while she walked to warm up; wearing just a t-shirt and suspenders didn’t seem like such a great idea now that it was getting colder.

She wiped a thin layer of sweat and rainwater off her forehead and then looked up at the porch to see a shock of blue hair and a red dress through the light fog.

“Emily?”

A hand raised to wave at Celeste.

“Hi,” she greeted as Celeste stepped onto the porch. “I hope I didn’t scare you too much.”

In Emily’s hands was a basket full of various knickknacks and handmade items, like knitted mittens with crazy patterns on them and necklaces made out of broken glass and crystals that shone when the porch light hit their surface. She held it out to Celeste.

“I thought I would make you a welcome gift,” Emily said. “Since you’re new to town and all.”

“Wow,” Celeste said and took the basket from her hands. “Thank you.”

Emily beamed. “It was my pleasure.”

Wafting from the basket was a perfume that smelled like honey mixed with some sort of fruit. Celeste sniffed a couple of times.

“This smells really good,” she said, then laughed a bit.

Emily’s smile wavered slightly. “Oh yeah, that’s my sister’s perfume. She uses so much of it, the whole house smells like that.”

“Haley, right? That’s your sister?” Celeste had met Haley once or twice, mostly on her visits to the forest south of the farm, where Haley would snap photographs of the wildlife. The two hadn’t really conversed much, just exchanging simple greetings. Although, she thought she might have seen Haley’s nose wrinkle a bit as she passed by with her sweaty and muddy clothes on.

“Yeah, that’s her,” Emily said.

“You don’t sound super happy about it.” Celeste set the basket down on her porch, then crossed her arms across her chest and leaned against the siding of the farmhouse.

“We’re…sort of in the middle of an argument right now.” Emily’s ears and cheeks were slightly red, as if having to admit having negative feelings was embarrassing for her. “It’s just…no, never mind. I shouldn’t be angry about it.”

Celeste met Emily’s gaze. “You can tell me.”

“Well, it’s um. It’s complicated,” Emily said with a shaky laugh. Her hands were trembling just a little bit, and she smoothed them over her red dress when she noticed Celeste had seen it. “My parents are both academics who left us a few years ago to do research for a project. They didn’t really give us a lot of warning, but we thought it was just going to be a few months.”

“But they never came back,” Celeste said softly.

“Right, so, now I pretty much take care of the household.” Emily tried to plaster the smile back on her face, but it slipped away again. “And I fought with her about just, you know, trying to get her to do more to help out. Since I work at the saloon and do all the chores around the place.”

“Shit, Emily. She shouldn’t treat you like that,” Celeste said. “Or take you for granted.”

“It’s fine,” Emily said with a wave of her hand. “It’s all fine. I mean, she’s all I’ve got so I just have to make the best of it.”

Silence fell between them, and Emily swallowed. She wouldn’t look at Celeste, instead keeping her eyes trained on the doorframe.

“You don’t have to pretend to be okay for someone else’s benefit, you know.” Even as she said it, Celeste recognized the blatant hypocrisy on her part. Like she herself hadn’t been pretending to feel nothing for years.

Emily blinked a few times. Drops of rain slid down from the porch’s overhang to land on her face. She wiped them away with the back of a hand.

“I…you’re right,” she said. “I know I need to stand up for myself more.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Celeste said firmly.

“Well, um.” Emily scratched the back of her head. “Thanks for listening. I’m really glad I stopped by today.”

“It was no problem,” Celeste said, “and thanks for the basket.”

After Emily left, as Celeste went inside and closed the door to her empty farmhouse, an ache grew in her chest that she couldn’t quite put a name to. Instead of going after Emily, she decided to ignore it. She curled up on her chewed-up maroon armchair until she fell into an uneasy sleep in front of the TV, which was showing reruns of an old sitcom. Her dreams were filled with visions of a siren with bright blue wings singing angelic melodies.

Celeste ran into Emily and her sister on one of her outings into town. They were standing just outside Dr. Harvey’s clinic, speaking in soft, quiet tones. Celeste pretended to be invested in reading the errand requests on the bulletin board, tracing her finger over the dates on the calendar.

“I’m really sorry, Hales,” Emily was saying. “I shouldn’t have yelled like that.”

Haley’s face was rigid, her lips pressed together in a line that had rubbed off most of her glittery pink lip gloss. “It’s alright,” she said. “I…you know I don’t hate you, right?” Her tone was slightly impatient—but it was also honest and direct, and not entirely unkind.

Emily turned her head to the side, revealing her profile to Celeste. “I do, yeah,” she said. Then she paused. “Most days.”

“Em. Come on,” Haley said. “I said some stuff I really didn’t mean. Let’s just get going.”

“Yeah.” Emily nodded a couple of times. “Yeah, okay.”

When they left and headed up the steps towards the upper part of town, Emily placed a gentle hand on Haley’s back as they walked. Celeste watched them retreat, two figures in a light embrace, and felt something like pity for Emily tug at her heart.

On the last day of Spring, a knock came at Celeste’s door early in the morning courtesy of Emily, who was standing outside with a yellow-and-orange colored bird nestled in her palms. She held her arms up so Celeste could see the bird.

“I need help.” Emily’s voice was shakier then Celeste had expected. “This poor little bird is so hurt, and I think everything I did just made it worse.”

Upon closer inspection, Celeste noted that the bird’s wing was broken, and there was a gash of some kind that stained the feathers. The sight made her stomach churn.

“Shit,” Celeste said. “You should come in.”

Emily stepped through the entrance, her Mary Janes clacking against the wooden floors. She took cautious looks around, still shaken by the injured bird, and was quieter then normal. Her gaze settled on a photograph hanging on the wall next to the television.

“Is that you?” Emily asked.

“Yeah,” Celeste said as she rummaged through one of her storage chests for what she needed to bandage the bird’s wing. She’d started accumulating sets of animal supplies to prepare for when she began to keep them on her farm. “That’s me as a kid with my grandfather. Or Old Man Marley, I guess, as you knew him.”

“You were adorable,” Emily said, then laughed. “I mean, not that you aren’t now, of course.”

“I got it, don’t worry,” Celeste said and walked over towards her.

Emily cradled the bird in the palm of her hand and held it out to Celeste, who unfurled a long stretch of bandaging tape. She began to carefully wrap the tape around the bird’s wing to hold it in place, then circled underneath the undamaged wing and in front of the feet.

“Wow,” Emily said as she gazed in awe at the bird. “You’re a natural. You fixed him up so well.”

Celeste shrugged. “I’ve always felt comfortable around animals. My grandfather kept a lot on the farm, and I loved taking care of them,” she said. She let out a small laugh. “I feel like this sounds a little crazy, but sometimes I have some kind of sixth sense for knowing what animals need.”

When Emily smiled, she kept her mouth closed and just raised one corner of her mouth. “And you say you don’t believe in magic,” she said. “Just look at how you helped our friend here. That’s a gift.”

“Maybe,” Celeste said as she met Emily’s gaze, noticing that her eyes almost looked purple in the light. “You know, this kind of—actually, never mind. It’s kind of dumb.” She blushed, losing the small bit of courage she’d almost mustered.

“No, keep going,” Emily said softly. “I like dumb sometimes.”

“Nothing, this just…” Celeste shook her head, hesitant to continue, but something about the earnest way Emily looked at her made her feel like she could open up. “This reminds me of something my grandfather used to say a lot.”

“Oh?” Emily didn’t offer anything besides that small noise, that one syllable to let Celeste know, I’m here, I’m listening, I care.

Even Celeste was surprised by the sudden choke of her voice.

“He used to say that people were like birds,” Celeste said as she reached out and gently stroked the bird’s healthy wing with her trembling index finger. “He said they might be able to live with a broken wing, but they could never truly fly with one.”

“That’s a beautiful saying,” Emily said. “You must’ve been close with your grandfather.”

“Something like that,” Celeste said. She turned away and could feel Emily’s eyes watching her, observing her—but not in a judgmental manner. She cleared her throat. “So, um, you should probably leave the bird with me. I can check on him tomorrow morning, and I’ll let you know how he’s doing.”

If Emily noticed Celeste’s abrupt shift in mood, she didn’t act like it or push for more, and Celeste was grateful for that. “Of course,” Emily said, gently handing the bird to Celeste. “Thank you so much for helping me. I just…I can never stand to see a living thing suffer like that, you know?”

“I know,” Celeste said with a small smile.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye. Take care, Celeste,” Emily said and waved over her shoulder. “I’ll see you around soon, I’m sure.”

For a few minutes after Emily left, Celeste kept the door open and just watched her move through rows of crops and over stray branches that hadn’t been cleared yet. There was a goofy elegance about her walk that Celeste found endearing.

Later that night, Celeste found herself twisting into various positions on her bed, unable to find comfort in any of them. Her mind was occupied by images of birds with broken wings and girls with big smiles. She stripped back her blankets and slunk out of bed to the kitchen. The red wine flowed easily into her glass, and she prayed it would help her sleep.

The porch step was cool when she sat down. Celeste tipped the wine glass back into her mouth, savoring the bitter taste of the red liquid as she swished it around. As she swallowed, she looked up at a sky the color of ink, illuminated only by the occasional star, and sighed.

She wondered what it would be like to be a lone bird flying in the night, unable to see what lay ahead. Then she thought it wasn’t too unlike the feeling she got when she was alone for too long. Celeste glanced to her side, to where the empty space next to her on the porch step stared back, and imagined that Emily was still with her, filling the darkness with something a little less lonely.

Chapter Text

As a child, Celeste often tagged along with her grandfather to town festivals. She remembered being excited by all the people around and enjoying the food and games that frequently came along with Pelican Town holidays. Her parents never took her to do fun things in town or in the city, since they were too busy working or fighting to care too much. Going to the valley’s festivals was a highlight of Celeste’s childhood. In the present day, though, she had done her best to avoid the events. They reminded her too much of what she’d lost. Of how her escape hatch had been sealed.

The day before the summer luau, Celeste had stopped by the saloon to see Emily (“just to check in,” was what she told herself). The two of them had fallen into an easy friendship, and Celeste would spend nights after work talking to Emily at the bar.

“You’ve gotta come to the luau tomorrow,” Emily had said as she twirled a wine glass in her hand and inspected it for fingerprints. “It’s always so much fun.”

Celeste had just told her she’d think about it.

Now it was the day of the luau, and as Celeste stepped on to the beach, she thought maybe she had made a mistake. The sun was blistering and everything underneath it boiled under its rays. A layer of sweat had already started to form on the back of her neck, and she thought she might have some sand in her shoe.

Celeste shook her head and focused on finding Emily. Standing just to the side of the bridge was Mayor Lewis, who was busy sucking up to the governor with the gusto of a man with a lot of unearned confidence. The governor, who wore an obnoxiously purple suit and top hat, looked bored and kept glancing off into the distance. Marnie, the town’s rancher, was busy stirring a large pot of soup that was to be the main event of the afternoon.

Clad in black-and-white pinstriped suspenders and a wide-brimmed hat with polka dots on it was Emily, who stood over by the punch bowl making light conversation with Shane. When she saw Celeste, she waved her over with the energy of a small child, and while Shane averted his gaze, Emily greeted her enthusiastically.

“Celeste, hi!” she said. “I’m so glad you’re here. I feel like I never see you at town things.”

Celeste shrugged. “They’re not usually my thing, but…” She glanced around at the festivities around here, then back to Emily. “I decided I’d come today.”

“Don’t blame you. I hate coming to these town ‘events’ too.” The sound of Shane’s gruff voice caused both Celeste and Emily to look at him in surprise. He made tentative eye contact with Celeste, and she thought she could see the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.

Shane took a sip from the cup of punch in his hands and immediately spit it out. “Shit, I think Pam got to this one again.”

Emily frowned, her forehead creasing with worry. “Like, as in she…spiked it?”

“Big time,” Shane said. He scowled down at the cup as he swirled its contents around. “Tastes like vodka to me. Goddammit, what if Jas or Vincent gets their hands on this by mistake?”

“That…would be bad,” Celeste said.

“I gotta tell Marnie or Lewis or someone,” Shane said. “I don’t want Jas to get hurt.” He gave a curt nod towards both Emily and Celeste. “See you guys around.”

After Shane left to go speak with his aunt, Emily and Celeste exchanged looks.

“See? He’s a good guy once you get to know him,” Emily said.

Celeste nodded. Despite his reputation as a grouch, Celeste had never harbored any ill will towards Shane. If anything, she kind of understood his need to shut himself away. She watched the back of his blue hoodie, emblazoned with the Joja Corp logo, as he walked over to the other side of the beach.

Now it was just her and Emily standing on the beach. Alone. Together.

“I like your hat,” Celeste said, clearing her throat. Her mouth suddenly felt dry.

“Oh, this old thing? Thank you.” Emily tipped her hat down so that it cast a shadow over the top of her forehead and gave Celeste a wry smile. “I got it from a little mouse in the woods.”

Celeste, not knowing what to say next, offered a strained smile. Off in the distance, she could hear the blonde-haired kid—she thought his name was Sam—conspiring with Sebastian and Abigail to put anchovies in the luau soup. She couldn’t imagine Lewis would be too happy about that, what with the governor in town and the stick so far up his ass it was almost irretrievable.

“Hey, we should go dance,” Emily said as she nodded her head towards the “dance floor,” which was just a leaf-patterned mat that Lewis had laid down that morning. It was empty save for Robin and Demetrius, who were dancing together; so far, Demetrius had stepped on Robin’s feet a total of no less than three times, but she seemed okay with it. Tropical-sounding music thumped from an older speaker system, and every now and again it would crackle.

“Seriously?” Celeste said with a snort. “There’s no one out there.”

“Robin and Demetrius are,” Emily shot back. “Besides, that’s part of the fun.”

“I guess.”

Emily held her hand out to Celeste. “So are you coming with me or what?”

As Celeste reached out to clasp Emily’s hand in hers, the world started to slow down around her like sand trickling bit by bit into the bottom of an hourglass. Everything shifted to become blurs, and suddenly Emily was all she could see, her face like a beacon in the night. When their hands touched, a jolt shot up Celeste’s arm, and she smiled despite herself. Emily grinned back and then turned around to lead her to the dance floor.

Once there, she let go of Celeste’s hand, and the world sped up again. Celeste tried not to look too disappointed and instead shuffled to the beat of the vaguely Latin song that was now playing. With her lanky and tall body, Celeste felt like she was all angles and bones, and her limbs moved in sharp lines instead of fluid ones.

Emily, however, moved without abandon or concern for any type of rhythm. She gave Celeste a goofy smile she wiggled her arms back and forth in a way that somewhat resembled an Egyptian walk.

“Come on, Celeste,” she said in the middle of what looked like an imitation of a hula dancer. “Put your body into it.”

“I’m trying,” Celeste said as she mimicked Emily’s dance moves. “I’m not exactly the most graceful person.”

Emily shrugged. “Neither am I! You just gotta own it.” She reached out and grabbed Celeste’s hands again. “Here. Follow my lead.”

At first, Emily held Celeste away from her, and they started to dance with a push and pull motion of the arms, moving towards each other then back again. After about five minutes of this, Emily began to giggle uncontrollably, and Celeste found herself laughing too.

“Okay, let’s try something better than that,” Celeste said between giggles, feeling bold.

She kept her hands in Emily’s but stepped forward so that their bodies were closer, and they were positioned as if they were about to start a much fancier dance, like a waltz. Emily didn’t stop her. Celeste slowly started to spin Emily in a circle. They moved faster and faster with each measure of the song, twirling around and around one another, and they both had these mirroring grins plastered all over their faces.

“That’s more like it,” Celeste said.

“See? You’re a much better dancer than me,” Emily said.

Celeste led Emily into a turn, which she made her own by jumping up and down in little hops as she spun around. “I had a good teacher.”

“I’m glad you came today,” Emily said as they came back together. This time, they were closer than before, just inches apart, and Emily looked at Celeste from underneath her eyelashes with a look that made her feel all gooey and warm.

“Me too.”

Celeste didn’t know what had gotten into her. All she knew was that the world had been hard and gray since her grandfather’s passing, but Emily was like this bright light, illuminating everything around her. Celeste couldn’t help but be drawn to it, like a moth flying helplessly into to the fire of Emily’s heart.

But she didn’t want to stop. So she didn’t. And they danced until the sun went down, and the clean up crew had to politely ask them to leave so they could move all the decorations to the old community center for storage.

The early summer gave way to a slow, meandering season that pressed down on everyone and everything with its heat. Most residents had homes without air conditioning, so on especially hot days, it wasn’t uncommon for people to hang outside on the cobblestoned streets with sprinklers running and cheap portable fans in their hands. Celeste spent most of her time that summer sweltering through her tank tops, fighting to keep sweat from dripping into her eyes, and questioning why she’d moved to such a godforsaken town in the first place.

But there were positives to the season. For one, Emily had started stopping by the farm more often during her mornings off just to spend time there.

“It’s so nice here. You’ve got all of these trees,” Emily said one day, gesticulating wildly towards the cluster of oak trees they were standing near. “All this shade. The glooo-oorious shade!” Then she plopped down underneath one of the trees, in the “glorious shade,” and snuggled her back against the trunk to watch as Celeste chopped wood. Periodically she took bites from the fresh peach grown in one of Evelyn’s gardens that she had cradled in her hand.

Celeste lifted her arms up over her head and brought her axe down with a thunk on top of a tree stump. She didn’t miss the way that Emily’s eyes flitted over her arm muscles and was grateful that the summer heat and her deepening tan hid her flush. “Must be nice being out of the sun,” she said.

“It is.” Emily pat the space in the small patch of grass next to her. “You should join me.”

Celeste shook her head. “Maybe in a bit,” she said. “I’ve got to finish up some of this work.”

Emily sighed loudly. “You’re so boring,” she said. Then she straightened up against the tree trunk. “Okay, if you’re not going to come sit with me, will you at least reconsider going to the see the moonlight jellies?”

Since the luau, Emily had made a habit of pestering Celeste about coming to the town’s end-of-season event, the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies. It was the one holiday that Celeste remembered the most vividly from her childhood, as it was her grandfather’s favorite. They used to sit side-by-side at the edge of the docks, all the way on the far side of the beach, and dangle their feet over the water’s surface. Celeste never forgot the sound of her sharp little intake of breath when the jellies first came into view, or that feeling of witnessing something so beautiful it went beyond description.

“Yeah, you know.” Celeste brought the axe down again, grunting when she saw how little progress she’d made in splitting the trunk. “Maybe.”

“No, no, no.” Emily wagged her finger back and forth as she took another bite out of the peach. Juice ran down her lips and chin, and she licked it off with a flick of her tongue. Celeste tried not to stare too much. “Not a maybe. You’re coming with me. I’ve decided it shall be so.”

Celeste smirked and shook her head. “Have you now?”

“I have,” Emily said with the air of someone announcing something very important. “It shall be so, and you shall come to my house beforehand, and we shall have lots of fun.”

Celeste was powerless to resist, and she prayed to whoever was out there—Yoba, maybe—that Emily didn’t know that. She wanted to keep her feelings to herself for now; it was easier than getting hurt just because someone like Emily was so friendly and kind.

“I guess we shall,” Celeste said and tried to pretend like she was displeased by their going together.

But when Emily had her back turned to inspect a wildflower in the grass that had just begun to bloom, Celeste allowed herself to smile.

When Celeste arrived at Emily’s house an hour before the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies, nausea tugged at her stomach. She took a couple of calming breaths, but it did little to ease the growing tightness in her chest at the thought of seeing Emily’s home for the first time.

Emily opened on the first knock. “Come on in,” she said with a smile and beckoned Celeste inside. “Haley’s here, and I wanted to introduce you for real.”

Emily’s house was as cute and eclectic in taste as Celeste had imagined. Scattered on shelves and countertops was a mix half-finished art projects, antique decorations, and shiny rocks that Emily described as “healing crystals.”

“I assume Haley didn’t do any of the decorating around here,” Celeste teased as she looked around.

Emily laughed. “Is it that obvious?”

A door from further inside the house unlocked, and out into the living room stepped Haley. Her hair, normally worn down in shiny, blonde waves, was tucked back into a messy bun. Her lips were shiny with that gloss that Celeste always saw her wear, and she turned them upwards in what could maybe classify as a smile. If Celeste squinted.

“Hey,” she said. Her voice had a somewhat monotone and relaxed quality to it. “You’re the one Emily’s always talking about. I guess you’re cuter up close than I thought.”

Celeste turned to look at Emily, who was blushing a furious red. “Um, yeah. That’s me,” Celeste said, trying to defuse the tension that Haley had created with her entrance. She gave a small wave. “I’m Celeste.”

“Right.” Haley blew a bubble with a piece of gum that Celeste hadn’t even noticed she was chewing. “Just make sure you’re good to my sister. Otherwise we’re gonna have a problem.”

Something in Celeste softened towards Haley when she saw how protective she was over Emily; her care for her sister wasn’t immediately evident, but it was definitely there. Emily, however, was less than pleased with Haley’s comment.

“We’re not dating. We’re just friends,” Emily insisted. Celeste’s stomach tightened again at her words.

“Yeah, but not for long,” Haley said in a sing-song voice as she tugged a flannel shirt on over her baby blue camisole and headed for the door. “Come on, let’s go to this thing. I don’t want to be late.”

The walk to the festival was quiet, with Emily being uncharacteristically silent. Celeste wondered if she should say something to ease the mood, but once they reached the beach and Haley went off to look for Alex, Emily seemed to relax.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “She has no filter sometimes.”

“It’s no problem,” Celeste said and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jean shorts.

The beach at night had a serene air about it, with the sound of waves gently lapping the shore and the coolness of the breeze from the ocean. Celeste breathed in the smell of salt and tried to relax as she and Emily headed down the docks.

At the end of a particularly long stretch, Emily and Celeste sat down. Emily pulled her legs to the side so that her knees were tucked underneath her, while Celeste let her legs dangle over the water. Just like she had as a kid. Although they weren’t touching, Celeste could feel Emily’s heat next to her.

The whole scene struck Celeste with a painful sense of nostalgia that persisted even as the first wave of jellies started to pass through the water. Their soft glow illuminated the ocean around them in small, colorful rings as they glided along. Even after all those years, Celeste still found the sight of them breathtaking.

“You know that the jellies follow the same migratory pattern every year?” Celeste said. “At least, that’s what Shane told me when I ran into him the other day.”

“Oh my goodness,” Emily said with a laugh. “Can’t you just enjoy this without a scientific explanation?”

Celeste held her hands up in defense but laughed nonetheless. “Okay, okay,” she said. “I won’t push it.” She paused and stared out into the water with a contemplative expression. “This really is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

In the light of the jellies, Celeste could see Emily grin. Then she leaned over so that her shoulder was touching Celeste’s. “See,” she said, her voice unusually quiet. “How can you say you don’t believe in magic when it’s here, right now, in front of you?”

When Celeste moved her head fully to the side, Emily was right there, beaming at her like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Everything in Celeste softened, and she could no longer deny that she was complete putty in this crazy, blue-haired girl’s hands.

The thought of that was also terrifying.

Celeste turned sharply and looked back out at the water. The last jellies were starting to fade from view, and the coldness of the night was starting to settle in. She shivered. Somehow, even though the waves were still low and gentle, it seemed like they were crashing down around her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Celeste could see Emily frown.

“Did I do something?” she asked.

Celeste tried to keep her voice even. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just…” Emily shook her head and turned away, tucking hair behind her ear as she moved. “Never mind.”

Celeste put her hands on the dock and tightened her grip around its edges. “No, just say it,” she said, suddenly irritated. “Don’t pretend like you don’t have any feelings. That’s never done you any favors.”

Emily whipped around. “Oh, like you’re one to talk.” Her cheeks were a furious red, and her eyes angrier than Celeste had ever seen. “You walk around like you don’t give a shit about anything, like you don’t care, but I know you do. We all do. You’re just hiding because you’re scared.”

Celeste could feel herself moving closer to Emily’s face so that they were just inches away. “What?” she said in a low voice. “What am I scared of?”

“Of caring about someone other than yourself,” Emily said through gritted teeth. Her eyes were starting to mist, and a shake entered her voice. “You know what? I should’ve known. Every time, I just give and give and give, but no one ever loves me as much as I love them. My parents, Haley, now you…I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

“It’s not you,” Celeste said. She was almost nearing a shout at this point. “Goddammit, it’s not you.”

“No, it’s okay. I get it,” Emily said as she stood up and brushed off her legs. “I really do. And…I’m glad this happened because I would rather not waste my time with someone that can’t even open up or express their feelings with me.”

Celeste scrambled up to stand. She was suddenly, viscerally angry, in a way that she couldn’t recall having been in years. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she said. “I’ve been more open with you than I have with anyone else in this stupid town, and I’m sorry if I’m not what you want me to be, but this is me, okay? I’ve lost a lot, and you know that.”

There it was. Celeste felt like she’d ripped the skin of her chest open to show her heart to Emily, to say, This is me. Do you get it now? I’ll always be like this.

“We’ve all lost things, Celeste.” Emily looked at her with sad eyes. “But at some point you have to let other people in. It’s not their job to get you there.”

Before Celeste had a chance to respond, Emily had turned around and was walking down the docks and out of sight. Defeated, Celeste sank down to the docks and stared into the water until it was almost time for the sun to come up.

Summer ended, and Fall brought with it a persistent sense of melancholy that followed Celeste wherever she went. The next two weeks went by in a strange haze where Celeste knew she was moving, and she was going through the motions of taking care of her crops and her animals like she did every day, but somehow nothing felt real. An emptiness had settled over her farm and her heart, marked by Emily’s absence in her life.

The truth was that Emily had been right. Celeste didn’t know how to handle her feelings and her grief and her persistent belief that the world hated her, so she pushed away the one person she actually gave a shit about. She knew she’d screwed up, but every time she thought about apologizing, whatever courage she had withered up and went to live in the darkest corners of herself.

So Celeste hid. She threw herself into her farm work from when dawn spread over the valley until the last bits of sunlight retreated. While her crops and animals thrived from the extra care, Celeste felt her heart wilting as her life became a silent retreat on the farm that had once brought her so much joy as a child.

One chilly morning—the kind of day where leaves on the ground scattered whenever the strong winds blew—Celeste found herself in the back corner of her farm, standing in front of her grandfather’s grave once more. She stood with her hands shoved into the pockets of an army jacket, her shoulders shrugged up to her ears, and her eyes glued to the words engraved on the headstone. Her lips, chapped from the colder temperatures, parted slightly as she breathed out.

How long had it been since he’d passed away? And how long had it really been since she’d given her heart to another person, truly loved in its purest form?

She could’ve gotten there with Emily and that was the worst part of all.

“I’m sorry,” Celeste said as her eyes grew watery and her voice started to shake. “I’m sorry I’m not doing this living thing right. I thought coming to live here would make things better, but…it hasn’t. Not at all.”

When the tears started to flow, Celeste’s knees buckled, and she sank down. As she knelt on the ground, hand pressed to her forehead and sobs overtaking her entire body, she finally allowed herself to feel what she should have all those years ago. She cried the way she should have when she was just a scared twelve-year-old girl, looking at everything and wondering how to go on in a world that seemed to love taking good things from her.

“Shit,” Celeste said as she examined herself in the mirror the morning after breaking down in front of her grandfather’s grave. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from sobbing the day before, and her hair was tangled and mussed in every possible place. “That’s what I look like. Shit.”

Celeste splashed cold water on her face—one, two, three times—then smoothed her hair down with her palms and walked out to the kitchen. She prepped a fresh cup of warm coffee, humming to herself as she did so.

The rain that had been steadily tapping on the windows since the early morning began to pick up in speed and grow to a harsher, more insistent tempo. Celeste turned to gaze out into the storm, chewing her lip, deep in thought.

She froze when she saw a face through the streams of water pouring down. It was pale, surrounded by blue—it had to be Emily. Celeste could just make out her features, the crease in her forehead as she furrowed her brow in concentration, the gentle curve of her neck exposed from the patterned halter top she wore (it was just like Emily to wear something completely impractical for the weather, Celeste thought).

Slowly, to Celeste’s astonishment, Emily raised a finger and started to trace letters into the fog on the glass. I-A-M-S-O-R-R—

Just before Emily finished the last letter, Celeste slammed her coffee down and rushed out into the rain. She was drenched almost immediately, clothes sticking to every inch of her skin and hair dripping onto her collarbone.

Emily jumped as she heard Celeste slam the door and come towards her, and her hand froze in midair.

“Emily!” she shouted over the winds. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m saying I’m sorry, okay?” Emily said and raised her hands up in defense. “I really miss you and…I’m sorry.”

Celeste blinked a few times, her mouth hanging open slightly.

“Why are you apologizing to me?” she said.

Celeste could hear the wobble in Emily’s voice when she spoke. “Because I pushed too hard, and I shouldn’t have.” She tucked her hair behind her ear with shaky hands and took a deep breath. “And I just want things to go back to how they were. So I’m sorry.”

“No. Why are you apologizing to me?” Celeste raised a hand to the hair over her forehead and clenched a fistful of strands. “Emily, I—I’ve been—”

And even though Celeste had stopped talking, Emily was still looking at her with those wide, beautiful, so-dark-they-looked-purple eyes, waiting patiently for her to finish. She was always waiting, never asking for or taking more than Celeste could give, accepting her with every part of her heart.

Celeste felt a soaring sensation in her chest as she lunged forward and grabbed the sides of Emily’s face to pull her up and into her lips. At first, Emily froze with surprise, arms held half-up. Then she began to respond to Celeste’s touch, kissing back with a sweet fervor. She reached her hands all the way up to rest on top of Celeste’s before moving them to her gray hair as the kiss deepened.

Rain soaked every part of their skin and slid down their faces, their hands, their lips as they moved together until Emily had Celeste backed up against the side of the farmhouse. It poured down, chilled Celeste down to her skin and bones, but somehow she felt more alive and on fire than she ever had before. All she wanted was more of Emily, more of those little sounds she made in between kisses, more of her vibrant energy, more of her everything.

“Wow,” Emily said when they finally broke apart and flashed that breathtaking smile that Celeste could never get enough of.

“Yeah,” Celeste responded, paired with a sheepish smile of her own, and touched her forehead to Emily’s. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“It’s okay. I think you made up for it,” Emily said with a giggle.

Above them, the clouds slowly began to recede in time with the gentle heaves of their shoulders. When the sun finally emerged into view, a cluster of birds took off from the top of a nearby tree and soared into the sky, around and around in circles over their heads.

“Look,” Emily whispered. That awestruck smile hadn’t left her face and somehow managed to get even wider as she cast her gaze up towards the sky. “They’re flying for us.”

“I think you’re right,” Celeste said as she pulled Emily’s chin down so she could lean in for another kiss, this one short and sweet. “I think they were just waiting for us to figure this whole thing out.”

Emily let out a small laugh and brushed a wet strand of hair off of Celeste’s cheek. Then they both turned their gaze to the sky and watched the birds fly overhead.

A soft wind brushed past, causing both of them to shiver in their rain-soaked clothes. Celeste closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. I know you’re there, she thought. And I hope you’re proud of me.

One of the birds, this one with green feathers, swooped down to land gently on Emily’s shoulder.

“Hey look,” Emily said with an amused look on her face and reached out to stroke the bird’s wing. “It looks like we’ve got a friend.”

The bird looked at Celeste with gentle understanding, and that’s when she knew it was all going to be okay. That life had given back to her its magic and its small moments that made it all worthwhile. There was beauty to be found in the things that went without explanation in that valley, like clairvoyant birds and moody weather patterns and a love that grew from a chance connection over a spilled glass.

And as Celeste watched Emily with a soft expression on her face, she came to find she was content to stay in this particular moment for a while—until the world beckoned for her to take flight and join it once more.