My face grew hotter as I stared at the rose.
“It still surprises me to see roses in colors other than blue,” I said, before the awkward silence could fester. “I only saw the ones at Purple Rose Cottage for eighteen years.” Because Li had never bothered to teach me colors, it had taken me years to figure out the difference between purple and blue, what with the name of the cottage. I’d thought they were two names for the same color.
“Blue, huh?” Cris raised an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t getting into that debate.”
“I’ve had some time to think about it.”
Cris grinned like I was his new favorite person.
For the next hour, we followed him around the greenhouse, Sam with his hands shoved in his pockets, and me with a notebook, scribbling to keep up with his lecture. Later, I’d copy everything again into more readable handwriting.
“The pruning shears are here,” Cris said, motioning to a shelf with empty pots and jugs of liquid. “Especially in the greenhouse, you’ll want to be careful to disinfect the shears between every plant. Otherwise you can spread a disease.”
My pencil stopped over the paper. “Disease? I didn’t know plants could—” No, that was wrong. I’d seen trees in the forest with strange fungus growing on them. “Never mind. But in the greenhouse? In the wild makes sense, but everything is safe here, isn’t it?”
“Humidity.” Like that explained everything. “I want to go over the main ways of reproducing roses and the results you can expect from them. Growing seasons, when to put fertilizer on them, when to prune. That kind of thing.”
“It sounds like a lot for one afternoon.” Not to mention the symbols I wanted to ask him about, if only I could find an opening.
“We can schedule lessons. Every week or every month.” His gaze flickered toward Sam so, for a moment, I wasn’t sure who the next words were for. “Whatever works for you.”
I answered before Sam had a chance to look around awkwardly. “Every week would be great.”
Cris beamed and drew me toward the workbench, explaining the difference between cuttings and budding.
We spent the next three hours in the greenhouse, me filling up pages of my notebook, before Cris declared that was all for the first lesson. We headed outside. Wind snaked between trees and bushes, stealing perspiration off my forehead and the back of my neck.
“So you’ll call when you figure out a time to come every week?” Cris asked as Sam wandered off to look at something growing in a stone basket held by a stone rabbit.
I nodded. “Before we go, I was curious about something. Sam said you were the best person to ask.”
Cris glanced at Sam, expression blank, and returned his attention to me. “Okay.”
I pulled the folded paper from my pocket. “I caught Sam doodling and asked what they were. He said maybe something he saw a long time ago, but he couldn’t remember exactly.”
Cris raised his eyebrows. “And he thought I might know?”
I gave a one-shouldered shrug. “They look old, and I heard there were remnants of things before everyone came to Heart. And that you discovered most of those things because you put the agricultural quarter together.”
“Hmm.” Cris studied the paper, turning it on its side and upside down. “Some of these look familiar, but even if I’d seen them before, I couldn’t tell you if they meant anything.”
“I was hoping you might remember something like a label.” I shifted my weight to one hip. “I know it’s unlikely.”
“Sorry. It was a long time ago”—he sounded just like Sam when he said that—“and we didn’t keep records like we do now.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t stop the disappointment in my tone as I reached for the page. It wasn’t like I’d thought he’d have all the answers, but even a hint would have been useful.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll hold on to this. Maybe I’ll think of something later and need to double-check.” He glanced again at the paper as I nodded. “If you’re looking for evidence of a civilization here before us, don’t forget there were centaurs and trolls all through Range before we settled. They’re not all bright, but they’re not without their own means of written communication.”
“Like scratchy drawings?”
“Sure. Or any other number of things. But I’m not the one to ask about that. There are books in the library you could start with. If you still have questions, I can give you a few names of people who—”
“Who don’t mind newsouls?” I hazarded.
“Yeah.” He smiled, looking relieved. “It’s awkward to say that without saying that.”
“You’ll have to get used to it. With me, just be blunt. It’s not like I don’t already know what half the people think. The newsouls coming now will learn soon, too.”
“Thank you for the advice.” His gaze slipped to the paper again, and his smile faltered.