“Awww!” Indio moaned in disappointment and then almost immediately perked up at another thought. “Can I start our picnic now?
“Yes.”
“And eat the leftover wedding cake first?”
“If you can get Maude’s permission,” Apollo replied, because he was certainly no fool.
“Huzzah!” Indio whooped. “Come on, Daff!”
And he and the dog raced off in the direction of the ruined theater. Apollo followed more slowly, inspecting the progress of his garden as he went. He and his gardeners had successfully planted more than a score of trees as well as flowering shrubs. Many of the trees and shrubs would take years to mature, so to fill in he’d planted faster-growing vegetation such as evergreens, both to provide background and to give shelter to the tender hardwoods. Along the paths he’d also planted annual flowers, which made bright pools of color.
“There you are.”
He turned at the sound of his wife’s voice. Lily was wearing scarlet, his favorite color on her, and she stood out like a bright poppy in his garden.
He smiled into her green eyes and held out his hand. “I’m afraid Indio has rushed off to ravage the rest of the wedding cake.”
“Well, someone has to eat it,” she replied, taking his hand. “Maude baked far too much. There’s plenty more at home.”
They’d married only three days ago, in a small private ceremony marked mostly by the abundance of Maude’s seed cake. They’d been eating it ever since, often on the picnics Lily, Indio, and Maude brought for his luncheon at the garden.
“And how have you spent your morning?” he teased Lily, for he knew very well what she’d been doing.
Artemis had given them a small town house not far from the garden. She had insisted it was a wedding present, but Apollo expected to repay her the cost of the house when he came into his inheritance. From the reports, it wouldn’t be too long.
“Have you any idea how hard it is to paint a room?” Lily asked. “I thought peach for my writing room, but then it turned the most ghastly shade of orange on the wall. The painters are going over it now in yellow, although with my luck it’ll turn some terrible shade of brown.”
“Mmm,” he murmured, listening more to the sound of her voice than to her words.
“Next I’m considering painting your study lavender,” she continued, “perhaps with pink stripes.”
He looked at her. “I am paying attention.”
“Good.” She took a deep breath, suddenly serious. “I’ve something for you.”
He stopped, turning to face her. “What is it?”
She fumbled in the pocket of her dress. “I found it this morning while I was unpacking the chest I had at the theater, and I thought…”
She held out his notebook.
He took it wonderingly as she continued to talk, her words coming more and more rapidly.
“I found it after the soldiers came and I kept it. I don’t know why because at that point I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again. But then when I uncovered it this morning, I knew… that is…”
She reached out and flipped the pages of the notebook until the last page lay open in his hands. She’d written something there. He bent and read.
I love you, Beast.
I love you, Caliban.
I love you, Apollo.
I love you, Romeo.
I love you, Smith.
I love you, Gardener.