None of the windows had curtains because nobody could see her upstairs in the middle of the country except birds and squirrels. The night air smelled cool and damp.
Rose turned off the lamp to make the bugs go away, then went downstairs. Ama heard her coming and got out the three little fancy fluted bowls left by the Greats and filled them with strawberry sherbet. Myrtle’s bowl drummed against the baseboard as she licked.
When they were finished, they went into Ama’s bedroom. Myrtle curled up in her dog bed and Ama sank into her chair. Rose stood behind her. Rose brushed Ama’s hair every night because Ama had a bad shoulder from years of steering the tractor.
As Rose brushed Ama’s thick, honey-colored hair streaked with gray, she counted the strokes to one hundred. Ama’s hair crackled like a little fire that warmed Rose. Then Rose sat on the floor in front of Ama. Ama gently slipped Rose’s ponytail free and her hair fell around her shoulders. Every night, that was a delicious feeling that lasted only an eyeblink. One Rose looked forward to. And then Ama began to brush.
That was how every day ended. And as Ama brushed a hundred strokes, such love and happiness and contentment welled up in Rose she wished they could die together in that moment. Not that she wanted to die, but they loved each other so much that she wanted them to die together.
·· seven ··
THE first morning of summer vacation, Rose pressed the pillow over her ears to blot out the bawling of the poor little weaners. Ama had separated the fall calves from their mamas yesterday. In a few days the calves would be perfectly happy eating delicious fresh pasture, but now they wanted their mamas’ warm milk.
Rose flung back the covers.
Downstairs, Ama was at the kitchen table working on her laptop. “You’re up early for summer vacation.”
Rose poured a little coffee and a lot of milk into a mug. She wondered if she loved coffee because Ama smelled like coffee.
“Maddy will be here shortly,” Ama said.
Maddy was staying with them for a couple of days while Uncle Thomas and Aunt Carol were at a medical convention. They weren’t really Rose’s aunt and uncle. She just called them that. Uncle Thomas, Great-aunt Phoebe’s son, was really Ama’s nephew, though he was about Ama’s age. And Maddy was Rose’s best friend.
“You girls can help me move fencing this morning if you want to.”
Rose wanted to because she knew it would make the job go much faster for Ama. “Sure,” she said. But while Maddy liked picking bluebells and hunting mushrooms and wading in the creek, Rose didn’t know how Maddy would feel about being out in the pasture with big animals and cow poop everywhere and actually working.
A while later, Rose and Maddy were squeezed behind Ama on the four-wheeler, bouncing across the pasture pulling a wagon, with Myrtle running along beside them. Rose hopped off to open and close gates until they got to the fence they were going to move.
Maddy lasted about ten minutes. She was getting sunburned on her nose and shoulders. She could feel it. She had stepped in cow poop. She could smell it. The grass was making her itch. She was thirsty. She needed to go to the bathroom. She was b-o-r-e-d.
Finally, Ama got fed up. “If you girls would rather go to the house, Myrtle and I can finish this alone. But basic rules. Use good sense. And stay together. Okay?”
“Sure!” Maddy said, cheering up.
They walked home through the big round hay bales, golden green in the sun.
Maddy said, “Poor you. Stuck out here all the time with nothing to do.”
“Nothing to do?”
Maddy didn’t have a dog or a bottle calf. Maddy never heard coyotes or whippoorwills. She never got to watch the big bull snake prowling the hay barn looking for mice. Never got to see the raccoon, with his rippling fur and bandit eyes, slink out of the old linden in the dusk to begin his day. She didn’t have hay bales.
“Well, guess what I’m doing,” Maddy said. “I’m taking a babysitting class. I’ve learned the Heimlich maneuver and CPR—skills that will look good on my resume now that I’m eleven and old enough to start a babysitting business.”
Rose had learned the Heimlich maneuver in 4-H, but not CPR.
As they got close to the barn, the weaners were bawling so loudly Maddy put her hands over her ears. “What’s wrong with them, anyway?”
“They want their mamas. But they need to start eating pasture. Ama’s weaning them.”
“That’s so mean!”
“No, it isn’t! What if your mom was still nursing you?”
“Eww! Please!” Then Maddy said, “Why are your cows different colors? Some people have all black cows.”
Their neighbor to the west had a big operation of Angus. Maddy had probably seen them on the way to the farm. They were beautiful animals—shiny black against the green pasture.
“Ama says crossbreed cattle are better in a herd our size.”
“So how big is your herd?”
Rose shrugged as if she didn’t know, because the question was personal and a little bit rude. But Ama tried to keep it around a hundred.
* * *
Later, when Ama came in, they made lunch; then they got in the truck and went to the dollhouse so Ama could measure for carpet. After Great-grandma Clara died, Ama had rented the house to a man who had recently moved to Missouri to be near his children. Ama was going to spruce it up before she advertised it for rent again.
When Ama found the key under a brick and unlocked the door, the house let out a stuffy sigh. Inside, the row of stained-glass squares decorated the tops of the kitchen windows and threw bits of colored light around the room.
“I remember coming here to visit Great-grandma,” Rose said. “I think.”
“You might. You were five when she died. You were her sunshine at the end of her life,” Ama told Rose, touching her hair. “Mom loved kids.”
While Ama measured, Rose showed Maddy around, though there was nothing to see in a small, empty house.
“Want to see naked ladies?” Rose asked.
Maddy glanced at Ama.
“Come on,” Rose said, motioning and leading the way outside.
Along the south side of the garden shed, she pointed to a clump of droopy foliage.
Maddy looked confused. “Where?”
“You’re looking at them.”
“Oh, you’re just being dumb.”
“Nope. These leaves are dying back. In a few weeks, there will be nothing here. Nothing at all. Then voilà! Naked ladies will pop up in August.”
Maddy narrowed her eyes.
“True,” Ama said, coming up behind them. “But they’re more politely called surprise lilies, because they surprise you.”
“Then why did Rose call them naked ladies?”
Ama laughed. “Well, they’re not wearing a stitch of foliage when they come back. That’s the naked part. And they’re pretty pink blossoms. Like ladies. My mom called them resurrection lilies. She planted them. They’re my favorite flower.”
Ama stood for a minute, her face tilted to the sun, her eyes closed, looking both sad and happy. Rose would have put her arm around Ama’s waist and leaned against her side if Maddy hadn’t been there.
As they drove to the Amish store on the highway, Ama pointed out to Maddy where Lovells had lived. She named the brothers who had farmed and raised their families along this road almost a hundred years ago. Maddy nodded, although she had heard it before. Ama drove slowly, looking at the cows in the pasture, who raised their heads from grazing to look at the truck.
At the store, they bought chicken feed, minerals for the cattle, calf starter, and formula mix. The clearance counter before checkout was crowded with marked-down climbing roses.
“Those have seen better days,” Ama said. “But do you want to try planting one on the garden fence?”
“Sure,” Rose said.
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* * *
At home, Ama dropped the girls off at the garden and went on to the barn. Rose got the planting tools out of the garden shed.
The garden was small because Ama was so busy. Some beef farmers hired help, but Ama tried not to do that very often. Uncle Thomas came out to drive the silage wagon when he could. Otherwise, Ama paid a neighbor boy for a few days’ work each August.
“I want to dig the hole,” Maddy said, taking the shovel.
Rose liked to dig holes too, but Maddy was company.
While Maddy dug, Rose pumped a bucket of water. The well had been here since the first Lovells hired a water witch to find water and he tapped into an underground stream. A nice artesian well had been theirs ever since. Ama had replaced the pump so it didn’t screech and squeal. And they still used it for small watering projects like planting.
Ama came into the garden with a basket just as they were finishing watering in the rose. She harvested radishes and a few handfuls of baby kale.
“Do you girls want to pick the peas?” she asked.
For every few peas she dropped in the basket, Rose popped one in her mouth. Maddy frowned.
“What?” Rose said.
“What if a bird has pooped on it?”
Rose shrugged. Nothing was finer than a pea straight from the vine to her mouth.
* * *
Late in the day, Rose and Maddy walked to the barn to feed the calf. The weaners were quieter now, worn out from their long day of bawling.
“Why does this calf get a bottle and those other calves don’t?” Maddy asked.
“Those other calves are fall calves. Peanutbutter is a spring calf, and it’s not time to wean her yet. Plus, those other calves have mothers who nursed them until they got big and strong enough to eat grass. They just don’t want to because they’re kind of spoiled. Peanutbutter’s mama wouldn’t claim her, so she’d starve if we didn’t bottle-feed her.”
“Did her mother die in childbirth?”
Rose laughed.
“What?” Maddy demanded.
“You’re such a town girl.”
“And proud of it,” Maddy said. “You’re such a redneck.”
“And proud of it.” But she explained farm life to her cousin. “When a cow won’t claim her calf, it means she’s not a good mother. And if a cow isn’t a good mother, it makes for extra cost and work. So she went to the sale barn.”
“That’s so mean! Somebody probably ate her.”
“It’s not mean. It’s how a farm works.”
And that was twice today Maddy had called Ama mean.
“Ama is an excellent midwife if an animal needs help. I’ve helped her pull calves.”
“What’s pull calves?”
“Sometimes they won’t come out on their own. So we pull them out.”
Maddy clapped her hand over her mouth and faked throwing up. In fact, Rose had watched with terror and disgust, and Ama never did it if she could get the vet in time.
Rose made the bottle in the shop, and they found Peanutbutter with her head poking between the railings of the gate. The way she looked up through her long lashes made Rose want to kiss her topknot.
“You want to feed her?” she asked.
Maddy nodded.
“She’s rowdy. She’ll try to jerk the bottle out of your hand. And if she pulls the nipple off we’ll have to go back to the shop and start all over. And we’ll have wasted expensive formula. So hold it like this.” She demonstrated.
As Peanutbutter sucked, Maddy kept a tight grip on the bottle. When it was was empty, Rose tied up Peanutbutter.
“What are you doing? You’re hurting her!” Maddy said as Peanutbutter tossed her head and yanked back against the rope. “She’ll choke!”
Rose shooed Maddy out of the stall. “No, she won’t. It’s part of her training.”
While Maddy fretted, Rose did her cleaning and record-keeping. Then she petted and talked to Peanutbutter, untied her, and offered her a handful of pellets. When she was done, she asked Maddy if she’d like to feed Peanutbutter a handful.
Maddy looked doubtful and shook her head.
Lightning swelled and thunder rumbled.
“Good night,” Rose told the calf. “Don’t worry about the storm. Ama says it’s not supposed to amount to much and we’ll have a nice day tomorrow.”
* * *
As they lay in bed that night after the storm had passed, Rose teetered on the edge of sleep.
“What’s that?” Maddy demanded, jarring Rose back to wakefulness.
“What?”
“Sounds like a choir.”
Rose sat up to listen. “Frogs. They’re courting.” The rain had stopped and stars blazed through her window.
“How romantic,” Maddy said. “Did I tell you Tommy Cross tried to kiss me on the playground?”
“Why?”
“Because he likes me. Mama says not to pay too much attention to all that just yet. She says…”
Maddy’s voice sounded different in the dark. Deeper. Mysterious. Mature.
“Maddy?”
“What?”
“You don’t sound like yourself in the dark. Do I sound different?”
“Kind of,” Maddy said. “I wonder why.”
“Maybe because we can’t see each other?”
“Maybe,” Maddy said.
Rose lay there, Maddy’s elbow in her ribs. Now she was wide awake, the music of the frogs loud. The stars were so bright she blinked her eyes. She got up and went to the south window.
“What are you doing?” Maddy said. She got out of bed and padded to the window and stood beside Rose. “What are you looking at?”
There was a breeze. There were a moon and starlight. It was on nights like these that the angel sometimes resettled her wings.
“Her.”
“Her who?”
“Belle’s angel. Sometimes I think she moves.”
Maddy shuddered. “You’re just trying to scare me. Don’t.”
“I’m not trying to scare you. I know she’s made out of granite or something and can’t really move. But sometimes she seems to. Just a little. Like she’s really tired of standing in the exact same position all this time and has to change her wings around a little. And every time I see her do it—or think I see her do it—I feel…”
“Feel how?”
Rose sighed. “Jittery. Deep down.”
She felt change coming. And she didn’t want change because she loved her world exactly as it was—when their days cycled through the year the same way over and over: spring calves, summer haying, fall calves, winter stillness—each year repeating the same as the year before. Yet there were always adventures. Like driving. Or moving. Or folding a square of paper so it turned unexpectedly into a dragon or an angel. Or stumbling upon a newly dropped calf curled up in the spring grass.
She sensed Maddy beside her staring at the angel. “Is she moving now?” Maddy asked.
Rose watched for a while. “No.” Though before she turned completely away, she might have seen a slight shifting. She told herself she was being silly.
They got back into bed, but Rose was wide awake now.
Maddy fidgeted on her side of the bed. Finally, she turned on her side to face Rose. “You know what I heard?”
“What?”
“I heard my dad tell my mom that your mom is back in town. That he saw her in the Walmart parking lot.”
Something in Rose closed like a drawstring being yanked tight. She couldn’t breathe. If her mother came back she would ruin things and hurt Ama again.
“Do you remember her?” Maddy asked.
“Not really.”
There was one little scrap of memory. Her mother was in the kitchen and Rose did something really bad. She couldn’t remember what.
But it made Ama so angry that Iris ran off. What Rose remembered like it was ten minutes ago was Ama gathering Rose onto her lap and hugging her until Rose couldn’t breathe. She felt Ama’s heart bouncing under her shirt and her whole body trembling. “You’re my girl,” Ama said. Rose clung to Ama, sobbing, so sorry for the bad thing she’d done. Or maybe Ama was sobbing. Myrtle, who was brand-new, was peeing on the floor.
“I saw Iris once,” Rose told Maddy. “But I was so young I don’t really remember.”
“How old were you?”
“About three. Myrtle was a puppy.”
She shut her eyes against the too-bright stars. After she’d started to school and heard what kids said, she’d asked Ama if her mother had been wild and a druggie, but the questions made Ama look so sad Rose didn’t have the heart to really try to get answers. All Ama said was that Iris had been too young for motherhood.
Dread of Iris’s coming back built in Rose until her mind was going around and around with the terrible things that would happen if her mother showed up. Ama might get so mad she had a heart attack. Iris really might be the druggie wild thing kids at school talked about, and Rose would be ashamed. Rose might do something wrong again. Something dangerous. Her mother was dangerous.
Rose caught her breath and made herself exhale slowly. She tried to relax, to stop worrying. She imagined a square piece of paper. She folded it in half, opened it, rotated it, and folded it in half again. She opened it and brought the four corners to the middle and creased the edges. She folded that square in half. She folded on, going somewhere, not sure where.
Gradually, Maddy began to snore and Rose couldn’t follow the folds. Her last thought was that Uncle Thomas was probably mistaken.
·· eight ··
ROSE poked through the pile of paper on her desk. Tomorrow, June 20, was Ama’s birthday. Maybe it was after midnight and already tomorrow. Ama and Myrtle had been asleep for a long time. Even the June bugs had called it a night. A breeze wafted through the window, ruffling the stack of paper and drying the sweat on Rose’s neck.
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