The Shadow and the Rose

by Amanda DeWees

  Chapter 16

  As July turned to August, the combination of heat and worry started to wear on her. Pregnancy offered a good excuse for stress eating, but there was only so much solace to be had from milkshakes and cookies.

  Missing Tanner was harder than she had imagined it could be. It seemed like his face was always hovering at the edges of her vision; she kept hearing the things he had said to her, remembering the way he smiled. The way his hands had felt on her skin during that night in the garden, the touch of his lips—she turned restlessly in her bed, drove her fist into her pillow in sheer frustration. It was like an actual physical ache, her longing for him. Sometimes she thought the force of it would tear her to pieces.

  As strong as the longing for him was her anxiety about their uncertain future. Night after night she lay awake, worrying for the millionth time about what he would say when he learned her news; whether she’d lose him then. When she did sleep, her dreams were worse than her waking thoughts. She dreamed of being attacked by wolves or bears, and when she turned to Tanner in her dream for help, he laughed at her fear. Sometimes Melisande would appear, beautiful and gloating and triumphant. Almost worse were the dreams in which Tanner was loving and faithful, because when she woke up the grief hit her all over again with the same force as when she first knew he was gone.

  One Sunday afternoon she borrowed Gail’s car and paid the Hartwells a visit. Bobby was out fishing when she arrived, but Donna welcomed her in. “I’m real glad to see you,” she said warmly. “You can keep me company while I sew. I’m at the buttonhole stage, and they always bore the life out of me.”

  “What are you making?” asked Joy, as she followed Donna into a small room fitted up with a sewing machine, ironing board, and cutting table. Light streamed in through a large window, and in the patch of sunlight Duke the dog lay with his tongue hanging out. He thumped his tail on the floor as they entered, and Joy knelt to scratch behind his ears.

  “My first grandbaby is due in a few weeks,” said Donna proudly, and showed her a tiny suit made of pale blue corduroy. A matching shirt of pastel plaid was awaiting buttons and buttonholes. She sat down at the machine and waved Joy toward a bentwood rocking chair. “My daughter and son-in-law are in California, so I don’t get to go shopping for baby clothes with her, but she sent me some catalog links to give me an idea of what she likes.”

  “I didn’t know you and Bobby had any children,” said Joy, watching as Donna ran up buttonholes. The sewing machine chugged quietly as Donna steered the fabric with deft hands.

  “Yes, Ginny moved to Monterey Bay about four, five years ago now.” She nodded toward a framed portrait on the wall of a cheerful-looking young woman with dark hair in a pixie cut. “I think that’s part of why we took to Tanner the way we did; we were lonely for our chick after she left the nest.”

  “How did you meet Tanner?” asked Joy, pleased that Donna had brought up the subject she most wanted to talk about.

  “It was at the shop. Bobby owns the motorcycle parts and repair shop over near old Hayesville; you’ve probably passed it, on Highway 64?” Joy nodded. “Well, Tanner’s dad came in one day. Jack Lindsey was having problems with his MLCB, and he wanted Bobby to look it over.”

  “MLCB? What’s that?” If it was a brand name, it wasn’t one she’d heard of.

  Her hostess gave her a conspiratorial grin. “Mid-Life Crisis Bike. That’s what Bobby and I call ’em. These men with more money than sense suddenly take it into their heads that they hear the call of the open road, and they buy something shiny with way more power than they need. They find out they can’t handle it, and they end up trading them in or selling them. Jack Lindsey wasn’t quite ready to give up on his, though, and when he came back to pick it up he brought Tanner along with him.” She raised the presser foot, drew the shirt away, and snipped off the threads.

  “What was he like then?”

  “I guess he was about fifteen.” She picked up a seam ripper and began to open up the buttonholes. “Looked like he hadn’t had a decent meal in a week, and you could hardly get a word out of him. But he took to coming around the shop and helping Bobby out. Just with little jobs at first, but he picked things up real fast, and Bobby got to where he’d bring him home for supper.”

  “His parents didn’t mind?”

  Donna’s mouth tightened, but she didn’t look up from her work. “Honey, I don’t think his parents cared what he did so long as he stayed out of their way. The only reason Tanner’s father brought him to the shop that day is so he’d have someone to drive the car home. Only once did I see him do something nice for the boy: when he bought him the Ninja. And that was just to ease his conscience.”

  Joy watched as Donna picked up a needle and began drawing the loose threads to the wrong side of the shirt and tying them off. “What about his mother?” She hoped she wasn’t asking too many questions, but she might never have a better opportunity to find out about Tan’s past.

  “His mother? Oh, she’s a piece of work. Now, I never met the woman; we just spoke on the phone, and that was just the one time. But that was plenty.” She gave Joy a significant look. “She called one night looking for Tanner to come and bail her out of jail.”

  “She what?” Joy couldn’t help exclaiming.

  “That’s right. Apparently she was on her way home from seeing her man on the side, had had too many Cosmos, and sassed the cop who pulled her over for a breathalyzer. All she could talk about was how she couldn’t find Jack and so Tanner needed to get his ass over there and take care of things.” Donna cut off a thread with an angry snap of the scissors.

  Joy could hardly imagine having grown up with parents like that. Her father, despite his occasional stubbornness, had always been supportive and caring. Her friends’ parents, most of them, were nice as far as she knew them: Tasha’s mother and father, although they were both doctors, always arranged their schedules so that at least one of them attended every one of Tasha’s performances; William’s parents were in LA but spoke with him often on Skype, and although Maddie’s mother and father had split up years ago, both of them were obviously proud of her, and they seemed to be in a competition to see which of them could spoil her more (which was how Maddie had ended up with three tablet computers and a wide assortment of designer handbags).

  But if Tanner’s parents had treated him as nothing more than a footnote to their own lives, it was no wonder he had so little regard for himself. “I don’t understand how his own parents could care so little about him,” she said.

  “I don’t either, sugar. He’s smart as a whip, and with such a big heart.” She snipped off the last thread and set the shirt aside. “I sprained my ankle real bad a few months before he went off with that Melisande, and he was over here every free minute he had, looking after me while Bobby was at the shop. Fetching and carrying, cooking my meals—”

  “He can cook?”

  “He can microwave anything under the sun, at least. He’d had to fend for himself since he was a little boy. And have you ever heard him play? He’d bring his guitar over and play for me and Bobby sometimes, and we just knew he’d make it big one day. We always thought when he left here it would be for Nashville, not New York.”

  “What happened then?” she asked. “Did he keep in touch with you after he left?”

  Donna gave her a shrewd look. “He’s never given us a phone number or anything,” she said, “if that’s what you’re hoping for. He never said, but I got the impression he didn’t get much privacy. If you want to try to get in touch with him, though, I can tell you some of the hotels where he’s stayed. Every once in a while he sends a postcard—the old-fashioned kind, not email.”

  Grateful, Joy accepted the offer, and Donna left the room to fetch them for her. How lonely Tan must have been before he met the Hartwells. No parents worthy of the name, no friends. Joy had never seen him hanging out with anyone at Ash Grove; it was just him and his guitar.

  And how lonely he must be now, she
thought, when Donna handed her the slim stack of postcards, all of them showing popular tourist attractions or the five-star hotels where they had been purchased. He was surrounded by people, of course—the entourage, the handlers, the fans, the paparazzi—but it wasn’t like he could really talk to any of them. With the press and his creepy guardian herself he had to keep up the pretense of being happy. He even had to monitor what he said on something as minor as a postcard: his brief handwritten messages were so impersonal they might as well have come pre-printed on the cards. Joy’s throat squeezed shut at the thought of how truly alone he was.

  She made a note of the hotels so that she could send letters there with instructions to hold them for Tanner. Probably Melisande even opened his mail—or had someone like Raven do it—but she could at least try to let him know she wanted to hear from him. “If he should get in touch with you,” she began, and Donna waved off the rest of her question.

  “I’ll tell him you were asking after him, sure thing.” Joy thought her eyes lingered a little too knowingly on her midsection, and tried subtly to suck in her stomach. “And listen, you feel free to come over any time, okay? There’s plenty of room in this nest for another stray chick.”

  Joy gave her an impulsive hug before she got in the car to go back to school. She could understand why Tanner was drawn to the Hartwells, but she wasn’t sure if talking about him with Donna made his absence less painful—or more.

  Some days she went for long walks in the woods. She didn’t really expect to find the rose garden again; there had been a magical quality to Beltane night that was absent from these sweltering summer days, and she had an idea that the garden only appeared when the circumstances aligned in a certain way. But she looked for it just the same. She came to be familiar with the wooded ridge behind the campus, and found that there was one stretch where the trees were thinner that offered a great view of Melisande’s property. She was curious enough to borrow binoculars from Gail’s husband one day to take a closer look from that vantage point.

  There wasn’t much to see apart from the different outbuildings—probably guest houses, she decided, and utility sheds. The swimming pool was covered with a tarp, the parking area behind the house empty. The garden and grounds showed signs of regular maintenance, but Melisande had probably hired a service to take care of them during her absence. There were no signs of occupation, but then she hadn’t expected any.

  She only had one more time-slip episode that summer. Only one that she was aware of, anyway. Sometimes it occurred to her, while she was studying or playing the piano or doing some other routine activity, that she could have slipped forward or back in time without realizing it. It made her feel seasick to think about. But there was one episode that she was certain of.

  It was in the library again. She had been avoiding the reference area, for obvious reasons, and on this particular evening she was looking for an obscure piece of sheet music. In the stacks, the newest and most boring area of the library, she had made herself comfortable on the floor in the music section, where she could flip through the bound sheet music more conveniently. It wasn’t until she heard a sneeze that she looked up.

  The girl from the carrel was standing a short distance down the row, with a bound volume in one hand and a tissue in the other. She smiled. “Hello again,” she said.

  The girl’s smile was so friendly, her whole bearing so unghostly, that Joy felt only a minor ripple of dread. “Hi,” she said, getting to her feet. She noticed that the linoleum where the girl was standing was light gray with flecks, whereas everywhere else it was solid beige. Evidently the future could also have bad taste.

  “You must be new,” said the girl. She wore the universal student uniform of jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers; there was no way to tell from her clothes that she was from another time. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

  Joy felt she had to be careful what she said to the future. “What year are you?” she asked, hoping it was a safe question. If only the girl would say something like “I’m in the class of 2032.”

  But she wasn’t that lucky.

  “Oh, I just started last fall,” was the reply. “But I’m kind of following the family tradition.”

  There was something about her intent gaze that Joy felt she should recognize. But at that moment the book Joy was holding slid from her hands and hit the floor with a loud thwack, making her jump. When she looked up again, the girl was gone, and the library had resumed its normal appearance.

  This time Joy kept it together. Feeling almost calm, she reshelved her books and went immediately to Gail to tell her what had happened.

  Although she was interested, and said she’d relay the information to Dr. Aysgarth, Gail didn’t seem to think it was a particularly important incident. “It sounds pretty mundane,” she said. “Which is reassuring, really. I’d rather glimpse a mundane future than a post-apocalyptic one.”

  But I fell through time! Joy wanted to say. Okay, so I didn’t talk to Shakespeare or Napoleon, but it has to mean something.

  Dissatisfied, she called her father, too impatient to wait for their appointed Skype time. He didn’t offer the reassurance she was looking for.

  “It seems like the time slips you’ve had are minor ones,” he said reasonably. “Nothing about them sounds threatening to me.”

  “Well, no, but it’s still kind of freaking me out.” She was seeing into the future, for heaven’s sake! She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t more concerned. “And not knowing when it’s going to happen, or what will happen…” She found that she was chewing on her thumbnail again. “With all the other things on my mind right now, it’s just a lot to deal with.”

  “What other things?”

  “Oh. Um, I’m kind of in a long-distance relationship.” Then she said in a rush, “Dad, why don’t I come out to Oklahoma for the rest of the summer? I hate being separated, especially with everything else that’s going on. I won’t be any trouble, I promise.” She’d deal with her pregnancy somehow—maybe he would even be healthy enough that she could break the news to him. And even if she had to hide it from him, that would be better than this isolation.

  But he wouldn’t be budged. “I’m sorry, hon. But this is for the best. You can handle this.”

  “How can you know that?” she demanded. “This is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me, and you don’t even seem concerned.”

  “I am concerned. Do you think I’m not worried about you?” She could hear him stop and force himself to take a breath, and when he spoke again, it was in a more controlled voice. “The thing is, Joy, sooner or later you’re going to have to deal with things like this without me. I won’t always be there to protect you.”

  Her heart gave a hollow thud. He was going to die. That’s what this was about. “The chemo isn’t working. Something went wrong. You didn’t want to tell me—”

  “Joy, listen to me.” It was his most commanding, teacherly voice, and she fell silent. “I haven’t lied to you about my prognosis. It actually looks pretty good. But getting sick brought home to me that some day you’re going to have to manage on your own, and I need to know you can.”

  “So all this—leaving me behind, making me move onto campus—this was a kind of boot camp for me, to turn me into a grown-up?” She was almost too stunned to be angry.

  “I prefer to think of it as taking off the training wheels,” he said, with an attempt at lightness.

  But she wasn’t ready to be appeased. It wasn’t just that it was cruel and unfair. It made no sense. Just because she was going to be on her own someday didn’t mean she had to start now, when he could still be with her if he chose to. At the very least he could have prepared her for things, so that it all wouldn’t have come as such a shock. Educating her about the strange things in the world would have made her better able to cope with them, not less. There was so much that she wanted to say that she couldn’t choose where to start.

  “I’m sorry you think I’m being harsh,” he said
, as she struggled to find a way to explain how she felt. “But the best thing you can do for both of us is to prove you can get through this without my help.”

  “Does that include not getting any more special treatment from Mo?”

  She expected him to deny it, and was unprepared for the response.

  “Yes,” he said gravely. “I shouldn’t have pressured Mo to let you switch tracks.”

  The numbness of horror began to spread through her. Sheila had been right. “Why did you do it at all?” she demanded. “All this time you were carrying me? How do you think that makes me feel?”

  “I was not carrying you,” he said firmly. “I never pulled strings for you except for that one instance—and only because I know how determined you are. I knew you’d be able to prove yourself eventually if Mo just gave you a chance.”

  Humiliation was burning in her face. “I think I’d better hang up now,” she said, forcing back the anger and resentment that threatened to show in her voice. If he wanted her to be an adult, she would damn well show him she could be one—and be mature enough to end a conversation that showed no signs of becoming less sucky. “I don’t think I can talk about this calmly yet. I’ll call you tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

  There was a silence on the other end. Then he said gravely, “Okay, kittycat.”

  For the rest of the day, and even as she got ready for bed that night, her mind was still busy with all the arguments she wanted to make to her father, if he’d only listen. It must be because Mom is dead, she thought. He wouldn’t be pulling this puppet-master stuff if she were here. Not that she’d have let him. Joy knew enough of her mother to know that Anna Merridew Sumner would have given her husband what for if she thought he was being unfair to their daughter.

  If only she were here. Everything would be so different.

  She got into bed and lay awake for a long time. When she finally reached to turn off the bedside lamp, she paused with her hand on the switch to take a long look at the framed snapshot of her mother in her cap and gown. She looked so strong and confident.

  It wasn’t until then that the realization hit her. The girl from the library had the same chin. The same as her mother, the same as Joy herself.

  Her eyes were different, though; deeper set, with angled brows. And that name, Rose—

  Joy sat bolt upright, her hands going to her belly.

  Rose.

  “My god, Tan,” she whispered. “I just met our daughter.”