My Name Is Rowan: The Complete Rowan Slone Trilogy

by Tracy Hewitt Meyer

  I stepped out of the car. I put my hands in my pockets as I veered left toward the biology building. Groups of students piled out of the main entrance, backpacks slung over shoulders.

  “That lecture was amazing.”

  “I love how eccentric she is, always carrying those little umbrellas.”

  “I’m going to sign up for that extra lab. What about you?”

  Their voices faded into the afternoon as they walked away. I changed my mind mid-stride and followed them at a distance, close enough to hear their voices, but not what they were saying as they headed toward the student union. When we came to the entrance, they walked in. I stopped near a group of students standing around a guy playing the guitar.

  He sat on the highest of the five long steps that led into the building, off toward the side so people could get past if they wanted to. I stopped at the bottom and leaned against the railing, listening.

  He was playing an eclectic mix of familiar bluegrass and what sounded like Spanish guitar, similar to what I had heard in class last semester. It was by far the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. If I could listen to music like this every moment of my life, surely there would be no pain—no past, present, or future. Just the beauty of the music.

  I didn’t know enough about guitars to describe the music he was making. The only thing I could think was that it was mesmerizing. Haunting. Insanely beautiful.

  If there was tension in my body it was gone by the time he stopped playing. My eyes were closed, and when I opened them he was watching me from the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. My cheeks were covered in tears, and I looked away as the group started to leave.

  I tensed and turned my back when he started coming down the steps.

  Please don’t stop and talk to me. Please.

  I felt him hovering behind me, just to the side of my right shoulder. I turned and glanced up. “I’m sorry. That was amazing,” I choked. Then I laughed, wiping my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. Music should move you. I’m just glad it was my music that did.”

  Warmth spread across my cheeks. “You are very talented.”

  “I practice…a lot.”

  “I can tell.” I wiped at my cheeks and took a closer look at him. He was tall, wearing worn-out jeans with a rip at one knee. His hair was light brown, hanging to his shoulders in waves.

  “Shane.” He reached out his hand.

  “Rowan.” His fingers closed around mine.

  “Nice to meet you, Rowan. Are you a student here?”

  I shook my head, completely ignorant of the freezing air around me. “I’m a senior in high school.”

  “Cool. You think you might come here next year? It’s a great school.”

  “What year are you?”

  “This is my third year. I’m a music major with a minor in English. I love to play guitar, and I love to read. So I merged the two making me destined for a life of petty crime and menial jobs.” He laughed softly.

  “Well, you have to do what you love.”

  “Yeah, no matter what bleak future it lays out before you. What will you study?”

  “Biology. My plan is to go on to veterinary school.”

  He nodded, his expression showing he was impressed or at least trying to act like he was. “That’s great. I love animals. I have a golden retriever named Barney back home. Best dog ever.”

  “I have a dog. Levi. And a cat named Scout.”

  “From To Kill a Mockingbird, I assume?” His voice was like butterscotch—smooth and velvety.

  “Yep. I like to read, too.” I glanced at my watch. “I need to go. It was nice to meet you, Shane.” Without thinking, I climbed up two steps to put myself eye level with him. His brows pursed as he studied my face.

  “Is there something wrong?” I asked, rubbing my chin.

  “You have a bruise on your cheek. Looks like you just got into a fight. Bad day at school?”

  I touched the bruise. Why hadn’t I covered it up? “No. It was just an accident,” I lied. “It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt at all.”

  He seemed to believe me; if he didn’t, he hid it really well. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Rowan. Why don’t you look me up next time you’re here, and I’ll show you around. It may not look like much, but there is a surprising amount this school offers.”

  “I’d like that.” And I chose not to acknowledge exactly how good that sounded.

  “Shane!” called a girl, running up with another guy on her heels. “Ready?”

  “Hey. Tara, John, this is Rowan. She may come here next year. Rowan, Tara and John.”

  Tara was a plain-looking girl with reddish-orange hair. She flashed a huge smile when she shook my hand. She seemed so genuine, I found myself smiling back. John, hands shoved in his pockets, nodded. “Hey,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” I said.

  “I’ll give you my number.” Shane pulled out a piece of paper from his backpack and wrote his name and phone number across it. He folded it and handed it to me. His fingers grazed my skin, and I bit my lip. What was wrong with me? Was I so starved for attention that a little conversation with a guy made me blush? Guess so.

  “Thanks. Well, bye everyone.” I flew down the sidewalk suddenly too embarrassed to look at him.

  “Rowan!” he called.

  I turned and looked over my shoulder. There were several yards between us, and I hoped they couldn’t see the new flush on my cheeks. Or maybe they would think it was the cold. I knew it wasn’t.

  “Yeah?”

  “Put some ice on that bruise.”

  I nodded and darted toward my car. My hands didn’t stop shaking until I parked the car at the animal shelter.

  I MADE it to work with five minutes to spare. Janie was on the phone when I walked in and waved to me from behind the desk. My boss was older than my mom, in her mid-fifties if I had to guess, with long graying hair that hung in frizzy curls to her waist. The skin on her face was wrinkled and perpetually tanned, but it only made her look happy, like she’d led a life well-lived.

  Her wardrobe consisted of blue jean overalls, worn and faded, with a flannel shirt underneath. Today’s top was purple and brown, the edges around the sleeves frayed. Her light beige boots had scuff marks across the toe.

  I was pretty sure Janie had a girlfriend, something foreign in this small town. Instead of saying she had a girlfriend, though, she called her a roommate. I’d met her roommate, Angel, before. She often came into the shelter a half hour before closing when she was done with work. I’d seen enough stolen kisses to confirm my suspicion, not that it mattered to me.

  Angel was one of the smartest people I’d ever met. When I couldn’t figure out a chemistry problem one evening when the shelter was quiet, she not only told me the correct answer but explained it in a way that was clearer than anything my teacher had ever said. I think she was a professor or a lawyer. I wasn’t entirely sure and had never wanted to ask, but she was my go-to person with any homework questions.

  I mouthed to Janie that I was going into the back room. I needed to clean the cages. The first room I came to was the dog room. The animals knew me by my voice so I always started talking to them as soon as I walked through the door. I greeted each one, cage by cage, checking that their bowls were filled. Then I changed any soiled bedding and swept the floors. After those chores were done, I took the dogs out, one by one, for a walk behind the shelter.

  Even in the deepest of cold the dogs always wanted to play. In the fenced yard they would chase balls, Frisbees, and play tug-of-war. If the dog was well-socialized, I could bring more than one out at a time, and they would chase each other.

  For the cats, I took several minutes to pet each one. Some I took out of their cages to let them roam around and stretch their legs. The ones that let me I cuddled close to my heart as I stroked their heads, trying to make them feel loved.

  It wasn’t always easy to feel loved, especially when it seemed like no
one wanted you. I knew how that felt to the core of my very being. And if I could help these sweet animals feel a little better about their lives, I would.

  FOUR HOURS later, at closing time, Janie found me in the back room with a cat in my lap, one in my arms and a couple of them lying on the floor around me.

  “Rowan? You’re not supposed to take all of those animals out.” Janie tilted her head to the side, her expression more bewilderment than anger.

  “I know. But I could tell they needed a little more love tonight. Is that okay? When one of them needs just a little extra love to give them that?” I bent my head to nuzzle the tabby cat in my arms. It was new to our shelter, and I could feel its ribs every time I brushed my fingers over its fur.

  Janie sighed and said, “Yes. I suppose it’s okay.” Instead of leaving the room, she walked over and stared down at me. Then she sat, pulling the cat from my lap and putting it into hers. Soon the cat’s purr filled the room and another one moved from my side to hers. “It’s okay indeed.” Her face lit as the cat swatted at a loose thread on her overalls.

  WHEN I got home it was past nine o’clock, and Jess was asleep on the couch. I put a blanket over her then went into the kitchen. I stared into the refrigerator that Jess filled but shut the door without getting anything. Instead, I poured a glass of water and went upstairs to find my journal. Before I sat on my bed beside Scout, I pulled a framed picture of Mike and me off my dresser and looked at it.

  The picture was taken last May when we went to the Prom. Mike was dressed in a black tuxedo and I was wearing a mint green Prom dress his mom had helped me pick out. His arm was thrown over my shoulders. I was so closely snuggled into his side, half of my body was hidden. It was the best night of my entire life and I smiled at the memories, at his handsome face staring back at me.

  My phone rang and when I saw it was Mrs. Anderson, I let it go to voicemail. I knew that she was going to tell me they were staying longer, but I listened to the message anyway.

  Hi, Rowan. It’s Mike’s mom. Mr. Anderson and I will be home tomorrow night. If you need me for anything just give me a call. I hope school is going well.

  I deleted the message and brought the picture close to my face, staring at his eyes. Those green orbs of his always made me melt like chocolate. I missed him, and his eyes, with a yearning that made me choke.

  I’d had a crush on Mike long before we started dating last year. But he’d had a girlfriend. They broke up and soon after we were paired for a biology project. He saw something in me that kept him by my side through all the madness, and had him opening the doors to his home and his family.

  Mike was my savior. He had stood by my side throughout some of the worst moments of my life and had never once judged me. I smiled at the picture as I laid it down on the bed in front of me. For this one moment, my heart released its hold on the loneliness and let a sliver of contentment come in. No matter what, Mike had changed my life. I would still be at home if it weren’t for him, slowly dying under the weight of my family.

  I uncapped the pen.

  A moment

  One moment

  Can change everything.

  A person

  One person

  Can be the cause.

  A touch

  One touch

  Can make us whole again.

  Somehow, around the third or fourth line, Mike’s image had slipped away and in its place was Shane’s. No matter how hard I stared at Mike’s picture, he suddenly seemed like a stranger; a thing of the past. I slammed the journal shut and nearly drowned in my own disbelief.

  AN HOUR or so later, I left my bedroom with Scout cradled against my chest and went downstairs to check on Jess. The couch was empty, the blanket crumpled up on the floor.

  “Jess?”

  No answer. I walked into the kitchen expecting to see her sitting at the table eating. But she wasn’t there. It was too cold for her to be outside, but I looked out the back window anyway. She wasn’t there either.

  I walked to the front door and saw that it was still dead bolted. “Jess!”

  “What?”

  It sounded like she was somewhere upstairs.

  “What are you doing?” I ran up the stairs, Levi on my heels. I let Scout down, and she darted into my room.

  “Jess?” I opened the door to Mr. and Mrs. Anderson’s bedroom. “What are you doing in here?” I followed the sound of something being tossed around.

  “In the closet,” she said.

  I walked in and found Jess sitting on the floor of Mrs. Anderson’s closet, piles of clothes lying around her.

  “What the hell?”

  She shrugged and lifted a silk blouse off the floor. “Just thought I’d look through her clothes again. What’s wrong with that?”

  “What’s wrong with that? You can’t be in here!” My voice was shrill.

  “Why not?” she demanded, squeezing the shirt in her fist. “I need some new clothes. I can’t afford to go to the thrift store to buy anything.”

  “You can’t take these. You’re kidding me, right?”

  “No. She won’t miss them. And I have to save my money.” Jess’ voice was rising, bordering on hysteria. “I can’t afford maternity clothes.” She started to hyperventilate. “Even if I can find someone to adopt this baby, I can’t afford to even get to that point!”

  “Jess?” I watched her as closely as someone watches a foaming-mouthed rottweiler.

  “What?” she screamed, her words came out in hiccups. “I can’t do this, Rowan! I can’t!”

  I fell to my knees beside her and touched her shoulder.

  “I can’t do this,” she repeated.

  “You can.”

  She buried her face in her hands. I couldn’t imagine what was going on in her head. Finally, she spoke. “I want to keep it, Rowan.”

  “The baby?”

  She nodded and lowered her hands. Her eyes were terrified. “I want to keep it. Can I?”

  “You’re asking me?” Why would she ask me that?

  “Rowan, can I handle it? Can I raise this baby? I need you to tell me I can. You’re my best friend. If you tell me I can do it, then I know I can.”

  Several thoughts flashed through my mind. Was it up to me to help sway her decision? Or was it up to her and her alone?

  She placed a hand on her just-starting-to-round stomach.

  I felt like I was flinging us both off the edge of a cliff, but I said it anyway. “You can handle it. I know you can.” I was surprised to hear confidence in my voice. Maybe I did believe she could do it.

  She blinked several times. “You think so?”

  “I know so.” I smiled.

  Several quiet seconds passed as I looked around at Mrs. Anderson’s clothes. “I got into a fight at school today,” I said, breaking the silence.

  “What?” Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, with who?”

  “Trina.”

  Jess rolled her eyes. “That bitch. I hope you gave it to her good.”

  “I don’t know. I’m so tired of her. Maybe I should go away to the university with Mike, get as far away from here as possible.”

  “You’re thinking of not going to the same school as Mike? I thought that was a done deal.” She rubbed her tummy in small circles.

  “I don’t know. There’s that school, Berkeley Mountain College. It’s supposed to be good.”

  “Hmm.” Jess eyed me as I put a blouse on a hanger. “When did you change your mind?”

  “Well, I didn’t. I’m just keeping my options open.”

  She unnerved me with her sounds and her eyes. I knew what would turn her focus to something else. “Let’s go order something to eat.”

  At the mention of food, Jess jumped up, stepping over Mrs. Anderson’s expensive shoes, and dashed downstairs as if the conversation we’d had over the last half hour didn’t happen. I followed her even though food was the last thing on my mind.

  She got on the phone and called the only Chinese restaurant in
our area that also happened to deliver. While she was talking, my cell rang. When I saw that it was Mike, I ran to my room to talk to him in private.

  “Hey, Ro.”

  “Hey.” I lay down on my bed and put my feet up against the wall.

  “I feel like we haven’t had a chance to talk since I left.”

  I fought to keep my voice upbeat. It was becoming harder and harder to swallow the bite of my words. It seemed like even our phone conversations were becoming almost an inconvenience.

  “Yeah. I know.” I sighed.

  “So, what have you and Jess been up to? How’s Paul?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, though there was nothing funny about it. Mike really was in the dark. I forced my mouth to open and willed words to come out, trying to convince myself that sharing my life was what I was supposed to do. “He went to Colorado to find a job, and I’m not sure he’s coming back.”

  “Not coming back? You’re kidding. Why wouldn’t he come back?”

  “Well…” I swatted at a piece of dust floating down from the ceiling. “I’m not sure.”

  “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

  “Yeah. You could say that.” I clenched my teeth. I would tell him what was going on. It was the right thing to do.

  “Spill it,” he commanded. It was quiet on his end, which hopefully meant I had his undivided attention. “Rowan? What’s wrong? Please tell me.”

  And in those three words, I heard the old Mike come out; the one who cared so deeply about my well-being that he would have me move in with him and his family even after only a month of dating. My heart thawed, and I launched into everything that was going on—Paul, Jess’ pregnancy…

  I had his attention for a full ten minutes before the slamming of a door and the deep, gruff voices of his fraternity brothers rang through the phone. It was longer than I expected, though, and as I hung up the phone I felt better than I had in a while. I ran downstairs just as the Chinese food arrived.