Sage slipped into her room, pushing down the feeling of dread in her gut that told her she had been too harsh.

Usually when she spoke her mind she felt better afterward. It was the feeling of a sunny morning after a storm.

This time, she felt bone tired and sad.

She curled up in her bed without even getting undressed, staring at the darkened window as she listened to the hushed voices of the others in the living room.

She imagined the tightness she felt in her chest would have her up all night.

But she sank quickly into a deep and dreamless sleep.

The next morning she woke early, feeling disoriented.

For one blessed instant she thought only of the day ahead and how much she could accomplish since she was up at such an ungodly hour.

Then she realized she was still dressed, and the whole night before came crashing into her consciousness.

Get up and go about your business, she told herself sternly.

It would do her no good to worry about the boys’ adventure in town. Or the awful things she had said when they returned.

She showered and dressed quickly, then made her way to the kitchen.

Otis, blessedly, had not yet arrived, and she had the room to herself.

She threw on Grandma Helen’s favorite apron and set about preparing a big country breakfast.

She wasn’t apologizing with it exactly. She had meant every word she said last night. And she certainly was relieved that the men had disabused her of the notion that they could operate properly in the regular Earth world before she ended up mated to Riggs and it was too late.

Her regret centered on her wish that she had been gentler, or reprimanded Riggs privately. Because even if he was an ignorant alien man-child, he was a nice ignorant alien man-child.

An image of him leaning down to kiss her invaded her mind and she had to bite her lip hard to stop the surge of need that nearly carried her off.

Just cook.

Preparing a big meal was something constructive to do with her hands and mind. Sage had always used cooking to cope. She and Otis had that in common, as much as she hated to admit it.

She had just gotten into the swing of it with biscuit dough rising and a jar of apple preserves brought up from the cellar when the doorbell rang.

Stunned, Sage checked the clock over the kitchen sink.

It wasn’t even six yet.

She wondered if it might be Otis. She didn’t think he rang the bell each morning - surely that would wake everyone.

She wiped her hands on the apron and went to the door.

She was stunned to see a newscaster and crew on the other side.

“Hi there, I’m Arlene Wiggins from Channel Eight News,” the reporter said. “Are you Sage or Tansy Martin?”

“I’m Sage,” Sage said. “What- what’s going on?”

But Arlene turned to the cameraman.

“This is Arlene Wiggins from Channel Eight News, here with Sage Martin of Martin’s Bounty,” she said brightly, then turned to Sage. “Ms. Martin, Channel Eight News received a call on our tip line alerting us to non-disclosed use of GMOs in your peach trees. What do you say to this accusation?”

“GMOs?” Sage echoed, confused.

“Genetically modified organisms,” Arlene said slowly. “As you already know, being a farmer.”

For a golden instant Sage allowed herself to celebrate the fact that the reporter wasn’t here because someone had spotted three hot aliens without a license in a borrowed vehicle returning to the farm last night. Then she came to her senses and shot back at Arlene.

“I’m confused as to why you would even broach this topic in relation to my grandparents’ farm,” Sage retorted. “If you did your homework, you would know those trees are cuttings of the original peaches planted by my grandfather decades ago. These peaches have been growing on this land since before you knew how to spell GMO.”

Tansy wandered into the room looking sleepy and then stunned when she noticed who was outside.

“According to my research, peach trees only produce for twelve years,” Arlene said. But her voice was less certain.

“These are non-GMO peaches, Arlene,” Sage said. “Go and Google ‘cuttings’.”

“So you won’t have any objection to Channel Eight News independently verifying that?” Arlene shot back.

“Of course not,” Sage said. “We have nothing to hide.”

“You heard it here first,” Arlene said to the camera. “We’re heading up to the Martin’s Bounty peach orchard to obtain a sample and we’ll make sure to keep you up with the test results, every step of the way. For Channel Eight News, I’m Arlene Wiggins.”

The cameraman unshouldered his rig and gave her a thumbs-up.

“Thanks, hon’, that’s great TV,” Arlene said to Sage, suddenly sounding friendly now that the cameras were off. “We’ll ring the bell again when we have test results. Keep the apron - that’s a nice touch, but eighty-six the ponytail. Viewers want women to look feminine.”

“Get out,” Sage said, clenching her jaw to keep herself from saying more.

“But I can take my sample, right?” Arlene asked.

Sage nodded.

Wiggins and her crew headed toward the peaches.

Tansy put a hand on Sage’s shoulder. They watched as Arlene snagged a peach from one of the trees and held it up to Sage, as if in toast. One of the crew handed her a ziplock bag and she tucked it in the bag in her purse.

The crew trailed her down the hillside and into the news van that was parked on the gravel drive.

The whole thing was surreal.

They were still standing there when Arden sprinted toward the house, Drago and Riggs in her wake.

“What was that about?” Arden asked, panting, her eyes wide.

“Oh, nothing about the men,” Sage said. “Some idiot called their tip line and said our peaches were genetically modified.”

“What did you tell them?” Arden asked.

“I told them the peaches were not genetically modified,” Sage said slowly, wondering what she was missing.

“Why did they take one?” Drago asked.

“Oh, they wanted to test it,” Sage said with a shrug. “They won’t find anything. Can you believe the nerve of them? Coming here with cameras rolling and literally nothing but a bad tip?”

“Sage, Tansy, I think you should sit down,” Arden said.

Sage felt a wash of ice water through her veins, though she had no idea what Arden could possibly say that would make things worse.

She sat and Tansy sat beside her.

“You know how the trees weren’t blooming?” Arden asked.

“Yes, and you realized there was poison in their water supply,” Sage said.

“Did you notice how quickly the trees bounced back?” Arden asked.

Sage blinked.

“Yes,” Tansy said quietly.

“Would you have expected them to bloom so quickly?” Arden asked.

Sage turned to Tansy.

Tansy bit her lip and shook her head. “The fruit always comes early and ripens quickly, though this year it happened exceptionally quickly. But I’ve definitely never seen the trees blossom suddenly like that. I thought it might have something to do with the water.”

“Oh god, you think she’ll find traces of the chemical in the peaches?” Sage asked.

“No,” Arden said. “Thankfully that’s not an issue, or we wouldn’t be selling the peaches at all. There’s something else… special about these peaches.”

Riggs began to pace in front of the window, she’d never seen him so anxious about anything.

Arden looked to Drago, who nodded solemnly. Burton placed a hand on Tansy’s shoulder.

“Something you don’t know yet about these men is that they each have a little something extra,” Arden said. “A gift - maybe a remnant of their old life on Aerie.”

“What do you mean a gift?” Sage asked.

“Drago’s gift has to do with plants,” Arden said. “He can commune with plant life.”

“You mean he has a green thumb?” Sage asked.

“I’ll show you,” Drago offered. “It will be easier than trying to explain.”

He moved to the window and took down a small pot with an African violet in it. It was a tiny thing, a few fuzzy leaves, fuller on the side that faced the exterior than on the other. It had been in the window ever since Sage could remember.

Drago knelt in front of Sage, holding the little plant out between them.

He closed his eyes.

At first nothing happened. A slight breeze in the room moved the curtains.

Then the plant transformed before Sage’s eyes.

The leaves unfurled, a deep, lush green. Buds appeared and burst into bloom, a glorious purple against the background of fuzzy green leaves.

Drago opened his eyes and smiled down at the little plant.

“Y-you made it grow,” Sage stammered.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I asked it to grow.”

Sage looked to Arden in question.

Arden nodded.

“This is why the peaches bloomed,” Tansy said to Drago, nodding her head slowly, a look of dawning admiration on her face. “You did this.”

“We did it,” he said, glancing over at Arden.

“How exactly does it work?” Tansy asked. “Scientifically, I mean.”

“We don’t know,” Arden said. “This is why I don’t like that they’re testing the fruit.”

“But you didn’t put anything into it,” Tansy said.

“True,” Arden agreed. “But communicating with a plant at this level, supporting it, pushing it to bloom, surely there could be chemical changes at some level. Maybe even something that would raise a red flag on the tests they are about to do.”

Sage leapt up from the sofa.

Her sudden movement sent Drago sprawling backward, and he nearly dropped the violet.

“Tansy,” she said, turning to her sister.

But Tansy’s expression was one of wonder and excitement.

Sage was reeling. Yet her sister sat there, calmly taking it all in without a single question.

“Tansy, this isn’t normal,” she heard herself say, her voice higher pitched than usual.

Tansy nodded up at her. Concern drew down the corners of her lips, but it was clear as day to Sage that she was more worried about her than about the madness she had just witnessed.

Then it hit Sage. Tansy was mated to Burton. She was already in too deep. If these things that looked like men could make plants obey them…

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” Sage moaned.

Her stomach clenched and she pushed past Arden and ran out the front door.