After a while, Aunt Carol came to the door to check on them.
“Where’s Ama?” Rose asked.
“Closed up in her office with Iris,” Aunt Carol said.
Rose had an uneasy feeling in her stomach.
Aunt Carol went away, and Rose and Maddy blew on Maddy’s nails to dry them faster. They were gingerly touching them to test when Iris came through the door. She went around them where they sat on the steps without saying anything. Rose glanced at her, but she couldn’t see Iris’s face. She got in her car and drove off. It was strange that she left without a goodbye.
Soon Uncle Thomas came to the door and said it was almost time to go. Ama gave them a carton of fresh eggs and a bundle of rhubarb to take home, and then it was just Rose and Ama again.
In the dining room, the cake, too tall to fit in the cake keeper, sat on the sideboard. They’d never be able to eat all of it. And there was way too much frosting. And nobody had mentioned the flowers Rose had stayed up half the night making.
The sun had gone away again, and everything—even Ama—looked the way Rose felt. Flat and listless.
“I need to trim your bangs,” Ama said, brushing Rose’s hair out of her eyes. “But does a nap sound good right now?”
Rose nodded. Sometimes on Sunday afternoon they all got into Ama’s king-sized bed and napped the rest of the day away. Maybe they could sleep off her mother’s visit. They would wake up and it would be as if Iris had never been there. And Rose hoped she never came back.
Ama folded her pillow double as always, but her book lay unopened beside her. Rose forgot to kick off her shoes as she lay down. And instead of curling up in a cozy ball at the foot of the bed, Myrtle lay with her head on her paws watching them.
“What did my mom want?” Rose asked, kicking off her shoes and turning to face Ama.
“Just money,” Ama said. “She needs a little help right now, and I’m able to give it.” Ama took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “So I did. End of story, okay?”
“Okay,” Rose said, hoping it was true.
Ama lay back against her pillow and picked up her book.
Rose opened her book. Myrtle still didn’t curl into a ball.
“I guess she lives around here now?” Rose said.
“Um,” Ama said. “She has an apartment in town. And you heard about her job at a salon.”
“Is she going to keep turning up?” That sounded meaner than Rose intended.
“I doubt it,” Ama said.
Rose needed a definite no. She loved the wonderful, comfortable sameness of her and Ama’s life. She didn’t like change unless it was her idea.
She glanced at Ama. Ama’s eyes were on her book, but she didn’t look relaxed. Usually during Sunday afternoon naps, everybody drooled and snored and woke up three hours later feeling stupid but happy. But Rose was as stiff as a dead bird. Myrtle’s eyes flicked from one to the other. This was the worst Sunday afternoon nap ever.
Finally, Ama turned to her other side and put down her novel. Rose looked at Ama’s thick gray-blond hair, the rim of her ear just peeking out, her broad shoulders, the freckles on the backs of her arm. Ama was Rose’s rock and her pillow.
She couldn’t tell if Ama had really fallen asleep or was playing possum. Myrtle still watched them with bright eyes.
Eventually Rose fell into a worn-out doze and twitched with strange, sudden dreams.
In the late afternoon, she got up, trying to be quiet because Ama was still sleeping. She slipped out of the house and headed for the barn. It was very still, as if the whole world were taking a Sunday nap.
She heard the back door and turned, seeing Ama and Myrtle coming out.
As they walked along the lane, Ama pulled Rose to her side and kissed her head. “Everything will be fine. Let’s not worry.”
Ama stayed with Rose while she made Peanutbutter’s bottle and fed the calf.
Giving Peanutbutter her full attention so she didn’t have to look at Ama, she asked, “What was my mother like when she was my age?”
When Ama didn’t answer, Rose said, “Did you ever walk over to the barn with her to feed a calf, like we’re doing now?”
“Oh, I’m sure I did,” Ama said almost as if it were a silly question.
Rose had felt a pang of envy. She didn’t like sharing Ama, even if it was a long time ago.
Ama made an odd noise. “Truthfully, I’m not sure I did. Everything was different then. But if I didn’t, her dad did.”
“So Grandpa was still here when Iris was my age?”
“Oh yes. They both left about the same time.”
Ama said it so breezily Rose felt how much it had hurt. Why would anyone leave Ama? Why would anyone leave this wonderful place?
“I’ll never leave,” Rose said.
Ama kissed her on top of the head.
While Rose finished the chores with Peanutbutter, Ama fed the steers that were penned up ready to go to the sale barn.
When she came back, Rose was just finishing her record-keeping.
“I think you should try leading Peanutbutter around the barnyard,” Ama said.
“Really?” Rose had been wanting to try it, but Peanutbutter weighed a lot more than her and was still pretty rowdy.
“Really. You’ve been faithful about working with the rope and halter. Let’s see how she does outside the stall. Just keep the rope short.” Ama showed her how to hold it.
Excitement shook Rose’s hands as she untied Peanutbutter. She held the rope the way Ama said. Ama opened the gate.
Rose’s heart raced as she expected Peanutbutter to dart outside, but Peanutbutter just stood there.
“Walk forward,” Ama said, “and see what she does.”
Peanutbutter dug in her feet and pulled back. Rose tugged. Peanutbutter tugged. Ama went behind Peanutbutter and touched her hindquarters and the calf ambled forward.
“Keep her close,” Ama said softly, “and just keep walking.”
Every time Peanutbutter balked, Ama touched her rear end. And after a while, Peanutbutter got the hang of it. Rose led her calf around the barnyard feeling so proud she could practically touch the stars.
“I think you’ve got a good calf there,” Ama said.
“She’s a fine little heifer,” Rose said, smiling inside.
When she’d done all her evening tasks, she wrote in the record book Led Peanutbutter around the barnyard for the first time!
By the time they left the barn, the sky was a deep, dark purple and whippoorwills were calling.
They stopped and looked at the stars, which were fully out. When Rose was little she’d believed the sky over their farm was theirs alone. She’d called it our sky.
She found the Little Dipper in the north sky and then the polestar. She’d learned in science it was the only star that stayed put as the other constellations seemed to rotate around it, but it was really the earth rotating around the sun.
“Do you like being on a moving planet?” she asked Ama. “I don’t really.”
Ama drew Rose to her. “I remember looking at the stars with my dad,” she said. “We talked about that too. I haven’t thought about it in years.”
“What was your dad like?”
“When I was your age, I adored him. He was a stubborn man. But I knew him later in life when he’d mellowed.”
As they passed the chicken pen, Ama used a flashlight to search out the two Wyandottes, which had gone to sleep in the grass. She put them in the chicken house, then closed the door.
* * *
Rose had brushed Ama’s hair, and now Ama was brushing Rose’s hair. Tonight, for some reason, tears began to roll down Rose’s cheeks. She had been thinking of the angel in the cemetery and how she seemed to shift her wings as if getting ready for something. It was silly. The angel didn’t really d
o that. But that was what Rose was thinking about when the tears started.
·· nine ··
ROSE didn’t know what pulled her from the dream that slipped away forgotten. The wind was blowing like a storm was coming. Maybe thunder had woken her.
She got out of bed and went to the west window. A swell of lightning showed a car in the drive. She crossed the hall to the listening post she and Maddy had discovered a few summers ago when they were playing hide-and-seek. That day, Maddy had been hiding and accidentally kicked away a piece of baseboard, exposing a hole in the wall. When Rose put her hand inside because Maddy dared her—even though a person never knew what was in a dark hole—she felt a pipe that ran down and up. And then Ama said I’m calling to make an appointment as clearly as if she were under the desk with them. Rose and Maddy heard the opening and closing of the refrigerator. And Myrtle crunching her dog food.
Rose lay on her stomach and pulled away the baseboard.
“What’s so important it couldn’t wait until morning?” Ama asked, her voice tired.
“I have to tell you something.” It was Iris’s voice.
She was back already. Stress knotted Rose’s stomach.
“You have to tell me in the middle of the night?” Ama asked.
“It’s important,” Iris said.
Rose heard rustling and then Ama said, “So tell me.”
“I’m afraid to. You make it so hard to talk to you about anything,” Iris said. “You’ve always been that way.”
Thunder was rumbling now and Rose had to strain to hear.
“I come to tell you something, to confide in you, and you make it so hard. I would have told you earlier if you’d been more open. If you’d seemed to care about me.” There was a long silence, then Iris said, “Are you still mad about Rose?”
Rose jumped when Ama cried out. She’d never heard Ama make such a sound.
“Am I still mad?” Ama sounded as if she could blow up the house. Or the world. “You say that like you accidentally tracked in mud. You dumped Rose on me!”
Puppies were dumped. Kittens were dumped. Trash was dumped. Rose put her arms over her head as Ama threw words like rocks. They hurt so much.
“I didn’t have a car seat. Or a crib. Or baby clothes. I didn’t have diapers or formula except for what was in her bag. I didn’t have help. I had so many things I had to take care of. And I was all by myself. My mom was dying and your dad had left me.”
“I know, Ma.”
“Shut up. You don’t have any idea. I used to stand in the shower until the water ran cold so I couldn’t hear Rose’s screams.”
Rose’s very breath went out of her. Ama had let her cry? Hadn’t come to pick her up and cuddle her? Hadn’t kissed her and rocked her? That couldn’t be true.
“Newborns have to be fed constantly,” Ama said. “Did you know that?”
Silence.
“Did you know that?” Ama said.
“Yes, Ma.”
“Around the clock. Every day. Day after day.”
Iris didn’t say anything.
Tears washed Rose’s face. She’d been a bad baby.
“I was so tired after a few weeks I couldn’t go on. I called social services to come and get her.”
Rose felt like she’d been blown up in an explosion. Her head rang. Ama’s words rained down. Rose had almost been given away. By Ama. Ama wasn’t who Rose thought she was. Rose herself wasn’t who she thought she was. She was just some screaming baby in a blanket to be handed to strangers.
She stumbled to her feet as tears scalded her face. She could never face Ama again.
In her room, she turned on a light and yanked on yesterday’s clothes. Trying to keep the tears wiped away, she found her backpack and crammed in a few clothes, paper and scissors, toothbrush and hairbrush. She rushed down the stairs.
The sound of her opening and closing the front door was drowned out by rain lashing the windows. Lightning billowed as she ran for the shelter of Iris’s car. Hunkering in the back, she sobbed.
Before long, Iris yanked open the car door and got behind the wheel. Rose balled up on the floor and choked back her tears. She was running away forever.
Iris barreled along the country roads, bouncing through potholes. Rose was icy. She couldn’t quit shaking. Her teeth were chattering. She was never going back. Myrtle would wonder what had happened to her. So would Peanutbutter. Rose wished she’d packed her shadow boxes. She felt her sobs but couldn’t hear them because of the rain pounding the car.
Finally, Iris reached the highway and turned right. They were heading toward town. Rose’s mind thrashed. She didn’t know what to do, where to go, but the minute the car stopped, she’d jump out and run into the darkness and none of them would ever see her again. Nobody wanted her and she didn’t want them.
On the highway, Iris picked up speed and drove fast even though rain was pouring down. She turned on music so loud Rose felt like she was inside a drum. She was getting carsick, especially when Iris drove through low places and water surged against the bottom of the car.
Finally, the car bumped over the railroad tracks east of town. In a few blocks Iris would stop at the stop sign and Rose would make her move.
When the car slowed, Rose uncurled and sat up. Iris’s scream sliced through the music and Rose was pitched suddenly forward and then back, banging her head, seeing stars and hearing crashing sounds.
Iris cried, “You made me rear-end that guy!”
She threw the car in reverse, stomped the brakes, and speeded away. Rose peered out the back window. An angry man stood in the rain.
“What are you doing back there?” Iris screeched.
“I’m sorry! Pull over and let me out.”
Iris turned off the music. “I’m lucky the car still runs! Why are you in here?” Her voice was high.
“Just let me out.”
“I don’t think so,” Iris said, and Rose heard the sound of the doors locking.
Rose tried to open the door. “I mean it. Let me out!”
Iris kept driving, muttering.
Finally, she parked behind an apartment building. She brought out her phone. “I’m calling Ma.”
“No!” Rose snatched the phone and sat on it.
“What’s gotten into you? You’re her little calf, mooning around like you can’t bear to leave her side for a second.”
Rose crossed her arms and stared into space.
After a while, Iris said, “You were listening, weren’t you?”
Rose tried to look puzzled.
“Don’t think you’re the first person to discover that hole behind the baseboard. That was my bedroom for fifteen years. So now I know what you’re in such a snit about.”
They sat in silence. Iris couldn’t possibly know anything about how Rose felt.
Finally, Iris said, “May I please have my phone?”
“Not if you’re going to call her.” Rose was clammy in her soaked clothes. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls and might split open any second.
“Look. I’ll let Ma know you’re with me. You can stay here until morning and get calmed down. How’s that?”
The minute Iris went to sleep, Rose would run. She could take care of herself. She didn’t need Ama. She didn’t need anybody. “No double-crossing?”
Iris sounded tired. “No. I’m just exhausted and want to go to bed.”
Rose handed over the phone.
Iris unlocked the car doors and gave Rose a key. “Go on up. Second floor. Apartment 212. Be quiet and don’t wake anybody. I’ll tell Ma you’re okay, then I’ll be up.”
Rose hoisted her backpack over her shoulder. The rain had tapered to a sprinkle, and it stopped by the time she got to the door.
Her shoes squished as she walked down the stuffy hall with a million
doors. She had never been inside an apartment building before. So many people crammed together felt creepy. She let herself into apartment 212, which smelled even worse than the hall.
The room was dimly lit by a silent television. A lumpy person snored on the floor. There was a big window with the curtain closed, but the parking lot lights still turned the room a dingy yellow. Two chairs and a table were heaped with boxes. Rose leaned her backpack against the wall.
Did the lumpy person on the floor live here?
When Iris tapped on the door, Rose let her in.
Iris put her finger to her lips, laid her car keys on the kitchen counter, and motioned to Rose to follow. As they walked down a short hall, Rose saw a bathroom on the left lit by a night-light. A room across the hall had the door open a crack. When they reached the room at the end, Iris flipped on a light.
Rose squinted in the sudden brightness as bugs disappeared in an instant among the stuff spilling out of boxes. Piles of clothes and dirty dishes were on the floor by one side of the bare mattress. The room smelled musty.
“This is just for one night,” Iris whispered. “You take that side.” She pointed to the side where the mess wasn’t. She tossed Rose a shirt from one of the piles. “Here. You can sleep in this.”
“No thanks,” Rose said.
Iris shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Rose put her head on a pillow that was too bouncy. Her wet clothes clung to her.
Down the hall, Iris talked quietly to someone; then the door to the apartment opened and closed.
This was like another planet a hundred earth years from home. Everything that raced through Rose’s mind was something she couldn’t bear to think about. Iris turned off the light and lay down beside her. A car honked over and over, making Rose’s heart race. Voices from the hallway came through the wall. She was afraid the people could just push through the thin wall if they wanted to and step right into the room.
When Iris’s phone vibrated she answered sleepily.
Rose heard Ama’s voice.
“Ma wants to talk to you,” Iris said.
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