bracelets. “But love go its own way.”
“Some of my spirits are becoming obstacles.”
Miranda looked out at the garden. “You studyin’ too much ’bout Jack.” Yard fowl cackled from a pen near the fence. “Some tink Jack use woman, but dey could use him too. Twis’ him and knot him right up. He need dem like he need oxygen.” She tapped her maroon fingernails on the windowsill. A gecko poking its head over the edge looked at her, tasted the air, and scampered into the mandevilla vine. “That Jack, he pull ’ooman like magnet pull iron. And he know what make dem happy.” The soft light in Miranda’s amber eyes made her look under fifty and exotically beautiful; perhaps she and Jack had found each other irresistible at one time.
“I take it he was a good lover,” Els said.
Miranda laughed, a throaty chuckle. “Spile a woman for the rest a’ men.”
Yearning for Mallo surged through Els. She blinked and managed not to drop her gaze. “Jack’s never touched me.”
“He can’t do that, darlin’, but he can touch your mind all the same.”
“Can he be all in my mind?” Els said. “Some kind of hallucination?” She stared into her cup, seeking whatever answer might be lurking in the tangle of leaves at the bottom. “Am I crazy?”
“There’s all kind a’ madness.”
“He appears when I’m wide awake, but never in full daylight. I dream about him. Well, not exactly about him, but his visits can provoke these dreams. Some leave me weeping for a loss I can’t name.” Els swirled her cup and watched the leaves rearrange themselves. “We made this bargain. He’s certainly keeping his side. Always pushing me to chase what I most fear.”
Miranda took the cup, reheated the tea, and poured Els a refill. “Tell Miranda about that fear.”
“You experience deep love with this Mallo man,” Miranda said.
Peering into the dregs of her third cup of tea, Els felt as if she’d had a glass of wine: loosened but not yet wobbly, and far more candid even than when drunk. “More than that,” she said. “I believed only he, who knew me so well and for so long, could ever love the difficult person I’ve always been.”
“But you angry at him too.”
“I’m furious at him for dying. For leaving me.” Els hid her eyes in the heels of her hands to squeeze in the tears. “Since he died, I’ve no place for all that love to go.”
Miranda clasped Els’s forearms, her touch encouraging, knowing. “You got to forgive him that he can’t be here no more to soak up all that love.” She pried away one of Els’s hands and looked at her. “Darlin’, you must be just drownin’ in love pushin’ to flow out.”
“I’m trapped in ice.”
“Ice doan last long in a place like this,” Miranda said. She heaved herself out of her chair and put Els’s cup on the counter. “Liz not an easy man. Fighting inside, even though he stop boxing down everybody. He got his own load a’ sadness. Maybe you help it, maybe nobody can.”
“Am I a fool?”
“Love make all a’ we a bit foolish.”
“I’m terrified.”
“Of Liz?”
“Of no Liz.” The words were iridescent soap bubbles, too delicate to touch lest they dissolve. A pair of hummingbirds flitting around the porch sent their thrumming through the open window. Els felt tears welling, blinked them back. “Liz is absurdly jealous of Jack. It’s unfair to have to choose between them. But even if I wanted him gone, Jack won’t leave until Eulia lets him in, and she’s too bitter.”
Miranda shook some of the herbs she’d used to make Els’s tea into a small jar and handed it to her. “You brew this like I show you. Drink it down before you go sleep.”
“Will it send him away?”
“No, darlin’. You drink it for clar-i-ty in you own spirit. We got work to do before you done with Jack. Come.” She went out to the porch. “Finney,” she called. “Miss Els goin’ now.” Finney emerged from the shade and returned to the Jeep.
“If I decide Jack must go,” Els said, “can you make Eulia receptive to him?”
“Only she can do that,” Miranda said. “I go tink on it.”
She led Els to the gate, brushing her hand along the croton hedge as they passed. “This plant got a strong heart,” she said. “You make a row all one color, it throw out a stem like this one or that one, spile your design.” She broke off a shoot—burgundy leaves with