Page 3 of Damiana

“Bram.” Callie crouched at the fence, holding her hand flat at his level. Bram inspected her seriously, like a tiny parking attendant. “Bram, hi. Hi, Bram. Hi. You are so handsome. Is he yours? He must be yours,” Callie said, turning to Aurora.

“He lives here,” Aurora said. “He came with the place, more or less. We don’t let him near the table. He becomes a tyrant.”

Callie was cooing. Priya was smiling for the first time since the redwoods. Even I found myself thinking hello, Bram, in the private little voice I reserved for my houseplants.

“Come on,” Aurora said gently. “Let me show you your tents before we lose the light.”

Behind us, the small brass bell gave one more tink and went quiet.

The tents nestled between the outermost trees overlooking the bay, their canvas like heavy cream cardstock over wooden poles, lantern shadows moving at the entrances.

Aurora stopped on the path, her hands clasped in front of her again, ready to deliver a little sermon. “Welcome to your sanctuary. Each tent has been prepared just for you, as special and unique as you are. Tonight will be an unforgettable experience,” she said, her eyes flicking for just a second to the unlit firepit, “and here is your retreat, your home for the evening, where you can reflect and honor your journey.”

The words hit Callie visibly. She beamed. That was when I noticed Kai was right behind us, two pieces of our luggage at his side, the lantern light making him romance-novel beautiful. I caught him watching that smile spread across Callie’s face, or it might have been a trick of the fading light.

“Priya,” Aurora said, like her name mattered deeply. “I chose the tent tucked farthest into the trees, so nature cocoons you. Was I right?”

“I… yeah. How did you—”

“Powerful women crave peace.” She smiled, her head inclined slightly.

At the time, it went over my head, or maybe it didn’t, and I chose not to think about it.

She guided Priya to the tent with an arm outstretched.

The second tent was for Jess, who nodded once and disappeared inside. Then Callie, who gasped when her eyes landed on the flowers.

“How did you know I like gerbera daisies?”

Aurora touched her heart and said something about energy patterns that Callie accepted as the answer.

She showed a little less ceremony with me, maybe because she’d clocked something in me, but she still smiled like she almost loved me.

“This one’s for you, sweetie.”

I pushed through the flap, and it wowed me all at once: embroidered cushions on an ikat rug, fairy lights in a vase of catkins; a bed turned down with thick cotton sheets. There was even a small nightstand with a trio of herbal skincare bottles. The little jar of hot honey was a nice touch. It was the exact brand I bought from the farmer’s market. I didn’t think about that at the time, either.

I turned a full circle under the low canvas and found a delicate, floaty long dress in ivory cotton folded on the shelf of the nightstand.

“We gather in twenty minutes,” Aurora said from outside. “Please wear the dress we’ve provided. There are plenty of blankets if you get cold. I’ll meet you all at the table.”

Kai appeared at my door, arms first, my luggage in hand, and left without a word.

I looked at the dress, and a little voice in me said don’t put it on. No one had mentioned there would be a dress code, or costumes involved. Priya murmured from her tent. A question, maybe, but I couldn’t catch it. The forest was loud around us, insects clicking and birds peeping about the incoming fog.

I told the voice this wasn’t supposed to be normal or sensible. It was supposed to be weird. Expensive and weird. My boss, as smug and self-absorbed as she was, had paid a fortune for me to be here. I checked the tent flap was fully closed, then peeled off my shirt and shorts and pulled the dress over my head.

We gathered outside our tents. Jess emerged with a slouchy cardigan pulled over her dress, looking like an orphan in borrowed clothes, her arms crossed. Priya came out calmly, but with a divot between her brows. Callie looked sweet and ethereal, except for the lace-up boots.

We trekked down the path, our hemlines licking our calves, to the table, where Aurora waited at the head, palms resting on the heavy wooden tabletop.

Kai stoked a fresh fire in the firepit, now wearing a lightweight, marled gray sweater that made him look unfairly touchable.

The sun had almost set, and the string lights threw a buttery, marbled light over the table. Striped wool blankets covered our chairs.

“Sit, please,” Aurora said, with another deep, practiced smile.

We all sat on cue, tucking our dresses under our thighs. The table was set with a voluptuous spread of tropical fruit and salad. Chickpeas were the only protein source.