A Constellation of Roses Read online

  I remember what Auntie said when she read my palm. I thought Shane was going to be my roots once, him and me in the little house he dreamed about. But that feels like forever ago. I’ve moved on. There’s a space and distance between us now that can’t be bridged.

  “Hey,” a voice calls from the slope of Cedar Mountain below, pulling me from my thoughts. I see a dark head appear, then a set of shoulder pads. Jasper. “I wanted to give you fair warning before practice starts. We’re doing hill climbs for conditioning today. There’s about to be forty guys running up and down this hill.” He’s wearing a short red practice jersey that covers his shoulder pads and chest but still reveals his tan stomach, and the barest hint of a V-cut above his hip bones reawakens the ache I’d felt with his knuckles brushing against my leg in the back seat of Grayson’s Jeep.

  “Thanks,” I tell him. Pulling my gaze up from his midriff, I put my phone away. “I don’t think I want to be here for that.”

  “I didn’t figure you would. Even though it will be a majestic pack of men, none of them will be as impressive as what you’re seeing here.” He tilts his head forward so a dark curl tumbles down over his forehead. There’s been tension between us all week after the almost-kiss at the park, but neither of us has been able to act with so many of his friends around.

  I laugh. “Wow. I’m overwhelmed right now.”

  “I thought you might be.” When he smiles, it reaches his scar, so I know it’s real. I wonder if some part of him is lighter because he’s not alone with his secret. I hope so. I know that one person can’t fix another. But if me sharing some of his secrets, some of his pain, can help him a little, then it’s something I’m glad to do.

  “I’ll try not to faint or anything on my way down the hill.”

  “I’ll walk with you in case you do.” He holds out his Tigers helmet as if to show me the way.

  “Such chivalry.”

  “So, are you adjusting to life in Rocksaw?” he asks as we climb down the steep hill together.

  “It took a little while, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

  “The key is to always say please and thank you and watch out for fugitive cows on the road by your house. Oh, and never turn down food when it’s offered to you,” he says.

  My footing slips a little on the steep path, and Jasper snakes out an arm around my waist to steady me. It’s warm and firm, and lingers a little too long. I wish he’d leave it there. “Thanks.” There’s a beat of silence before he removes his arm and I reply to his earlier statement. “There’s a lot of food in my life now. Mostly pie.”

  “I bet there is. Mia’s pie is famous. And so are the McCabe women. All of them have gifts, or so the story goes. Even the ones who marry in. ‘Like calls to like,’ or so they say.” He raises an eyebrow and looks at me.

  “That’s what I hear, too.”

  “So are you going to tell me what you can do?” He neatly avoids the root of a cedar jutting up from the dirt, his cleats sure after years of running up and down the path.

  “Maybe I’m the exception that proves the rule.”

  “I definitely believe you’re exceptional.”

  We both laugh. “Wow, you’re really laying on the charm today. Let’s just say I can take what I want when I want it,” I tell him.

  We’ve reached the bottom of Cedar Mountain, and I glance back up at the top, wishing we were there instead of here, in plain view of the entire football team warming up for practice. We stand there anyway, neither of us wanting to leave the other.

  “Really? Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  “That’s awesome. Do me a favor and take some of my homework sometime.”

  I laugh. “No thanks. My five-finger-discount days are done.” I hike my backpack up a little higher on my shoulder.

  “You know, there’s an old story that back when they founded Rocksaw, the McCabes were one of the first families here. And their daughters were so beautiful and so strangely gifted that people in Buffalo Hills thought they were witches and wanted to run them out of the area.” He nods west, as if I am to understand the location of all the neighboring towns by now.

  “So they came at them with pitchforks and torches?”

  “They did. The road to town crossed through the two largest homesteads in the area, and they were about to have a bumper crop of wheat. But the owners set fire to it all to block the road to keep the mob out.”

  “They set fire to their farms to keep the Buffalo Hills people from getting the McCabe women?”

  “They did. And the mob turned around because they thought if the McCabe women were so powerful that they’d make the Rocksaw farmers burn their own crops, maybe they shouldn’t be messing with them.”

  “So are these Rocksaw families still around?”

  Jasper tucks his helmet under one arm like he’s pondering the question. “Well, the Ruizes are, but the Smithfields eventually moved on. Florida, I’m pretty sure.”

  “Of course the Ruizes would have been involved,” I reply.

  “We’re in all the good stories.” He gives me an exaggerated wink. “I’ve got an uncle who’s a sheriff’s deputy in Cottonwood Hollow. You wouldn’t believe what he’s seen over there.”

  “I think maybe we need a little fact-checking on this one.” The wind picks up, blowing my hair and tumbling his dark curls.

  “And that’s only one of the great Rocksaw stories. There are hundreds. But the McCabes are legendary.” He reaches out and tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear, the act small and gentle, but setting every nerve ending in my body on fire. I really wish the entire football team wasn’t fifty yards away, grunting and guzzling Gatorade.

  Jasper clears his throat before saying, “I’d better get to practice.”

  “Yeah,” I agree, falling in beside him as we walk toward the practice field. “I’ve got to get to work, anyway.”

  “So are you coming to the football game next week?” he asks.

  “Well, the McCabe Bakery and Tea Shoppe is manning the concession stand to help fund-raise for the big homecoming festivities. Mia says we’re to be there under penalty of death. Or extreme disappointment, anyway. So, the answer to that is yes. I’ll be there.”

  We’ve reached the practice field, where large clusters of boys wearing shoulder pads and helmets are gathered. Someone whistles and calls, “Woo-hoo, go, Jasper! Get you some, son!”

  “Shut it!” Jasper yells back. He looks at me. “Sorry. Cedar Mountain is also kind of a hookup spot. They might have gotten the wrong idea.”

  His words hang between us, as if the wrong idea didn’t seem so damn right.

  “I didn’t realize Cedar Mountain was such a cultural landmark in this town,” I reply, staying focused in front of our audience.

  “We’re full of surprises like that.” He grins at me again, his scar pulling down in a way that makes my stomach do a backflip. “Mia texted me and said she needs pie delivery tonight. Any chance you could come along?” He pauses, reading my face, and as if to sweeten the deal he adds in a mockingly husky voice, “Maybe I could take you for a ride on my tractor later.” He’s barely able to keep a straight face.

  “Oh, definitely. Can’t wait for that.” I shoulder my backpack.

  “Then I’ll see you at six.”

  I jog downtown to the tea shop, a stupid grin plastered on my face thanks to Jasper and his tractor joke and the possibility of seeing him alone again tonight.

  My backpack bangs loosely against my back because it’s only got my sketchpad in it, the one with all my most prized sketches in it. Between classes I was working on one of Mia in the kitchen at the tea shop. I wanted her there amid the chaos of tea kettles and baking sheets, her red hair pinned up in a fiery mass. I wanted to capture her there, where she is her most vibrant, her most creative. And I want one of Ember, too, but she should be sitting on the front steps of the farmhouse in one of her beautiful dress creations. And one of Auntie on the couch, asleep to the bac
kground noise of her latest television show, her silvery gray hair spilling across a cross-stitched pillow.

  Suddenly I have all these ideas, and my fingers ache to sketch them out, color them in pastels or ink. I’m in love with the oil paints in art class, the piney smell of the turpentine, the way the colors can be worked and reworked on the canvas I stretched myself, changing, deepening into something beautiful and complex. Some days I think I’m like those oil paints, deepening, changing every day, and one day I’ll be able to change the planes of my face, the shape of my nose until I look more like Connor, until I can believe everyone when they tell me I’m like him.

  Mia jumps when I scoot in the door of the tea shop.

  “Sorry I’m late!” I gasp, sliding my backpack off my shoulder.

  “I was kind of freaking out,” Mia squeaks, clutching her apron. “I mean, I’m glad you’re okay. But you were later than usual, and Ember didn’t see you after school. So I was worried. Could you call next time? Something to let me know that you’re okay?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, following her behind the counter and back into the kitchen, her anxiety dampening my mood. I don’t know how long it will take for her to believe that I’m not going to disappear. I don’t know what I can do to prove that I’ve changed. Maybe she’ll never really believe that I’m here for good. The thought eats at me. I have changed. There are parts of me that are the same Trix from when I got here, but there’s more that isn’t. The old Trix wouldn’t have a job. The old Trix wouldn’t have said sorry when Mia asked me to call.

  The old Trix would have been long gone weeks ago.

  I grab my apron off the hook on the wall. “I was up on Cedar Mountain.”

  “What?” Mia and Auntie exclaim at the same time. Auntie nearly drops the kettle she was filling at the sink.

  “With a boy?” Mia asks, clutching her apron again, this time in anticipation.

  “No. Well, yes, but that was later. I only went up there to check my messages. I have NorthStar, and that’s the only place my phone gets a signal. I needed to see if my friend called me. It had been a couple days since I checked.”

  Mia’s face nearly crumples. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. How awful for you to have no way to talk to the friends you left behind.”

  “Jesus, Mia. She’s all right,” Auntie says, setting the kettle on the stove. “It’s a phone, not an oxygen tube.”

  Mia shoots a glare at Auntie. “She has a right to talk to her old friends, Auntie.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell Mia, feeling guilty for being frustrated with her earlier. “There was only one text message. She’s busy now, I guess.” I don’t say that Charly has probably forgotten about me. It’s been weeks since we’ve seen each other. She’s undoubtedly found new friends now. Maybe a new boyfriend. She’s probably waiting for Shane’s return, until the moment that she has him to take care of her again. He always promised that he would take care of us, and I’m sure nothing has changed as far as he and his little sister are concerned. It’s only me who’s out of the picture now.

  “I’ll get it taken care of,” Mia says. “We’ll get you a phone on my plan, and then you’ll have a signal since it’s a local provider.” She reaches out and pats my hand. “And then you can call me if you’re going to be late.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” I tell her. “I’m fine.”

  Mia gives me a tight smile, like no matter what I say, nothing will mitigate the guilt of keeping me away from my city friends, even if it wars with her constant fear of me returning to my old habits and running away. She’s not alone. Guilt churns in my gut, too, over the promise of a new phone that works anywhere in Rocksaw. Mia doesn’t know that the only thing Charly would do with easier access to me is try to get me to come back to the city.

  “Oh,” Mia adds, her face still looking unusually strained. “Ms. Troy called. She has to push back her home visit. She’s not feeling well. But we’ll see her at the end of the month.”

  I shrug. “It’s not a big deal. I’ve done lots of them.”

  Mia looks like she wants to say more, but she holds her tongue for once.

  About fifteen minutes after we close, Jasper pulls up outside the McCabe Bakery & Tea Shoppe in his old black truck, Cleo.

  “Oh, good!” Mia exclaims from where she’s been mopping the dining room floor. “Jasper is here. I swear, I don’t know what I’d do without him.” She looks at me. “Can you help me get these boxes out to his truck?”

  I nod, taking a deep breath before I say, “Jasper asked if I could go on deliveries with him tonight. Is that okay?” I’ve never asked anything, least of all permission to go somewhere with a boy. See? I want to say to Mia. I’m different. I’m changed.

  Mia beams. “Of course you can. I can run the deposit over to the bank.” She strokes a hand over my hair, the gesture stirring some long-ago happy memory. “I’m so glad you’re making friends here.”

  Behind her, Ember makes an oooooh face that looks like she wants to ask a million questions. I feel like we’re finally more than strangers who live in the same house. I feel like we’re becoming friends.

  I pull off my apron. My tip money is jammed in the front pocket, so I fold it up and stuff it into the pocket of my jeans along with the principal’s stolen fountain pen, which I keep on me at all times so that if I get an idea, I can sketch it out.

  Okay, so there’s a tiny bit of old Trix still around. I’m not returning the pen.

  Mia and I go outside with the delivery boxes as Jasper is getting out of the truck. “Hello, Ms. McCabe,” he calls when he sees us. “Sorry I’m running a little late. I got held up.”

  “Tractor problems?” I ask.

  Jasper fights a smile as Mia hands him a stack of pink bakery boxes.

  “Oh, you’re perfect, Jasper, as usual. Auntie just boxed up the last of the pies.” She hands him a note with the names and addresses of the orders when he’s secured the deliveries in the wooden crate. “Now don’t keep our Trix out too late.” She winks at me.

  “Got it, Ms. McCabe,” Jasper says, giving her a salute.

  “Curfew is ten,” she says, trying to look serious when I can tell that she’s secretly giddy.

  I get Cleo’s passenger door open on the second try. The seat belt buckled on the first.

  “Nice,” Jasper says. He holds up the list, checking it in the glow of the dome light. The light gleams on the gold class ring hanging from his rearview mirror.

  “Is this yours?” I ask him, gently picking up the ring. One side has drama masks and the other has a football. But the graduation year is wrong.

  “Jesse’s. This was our truck. Before. We were supposed to share it.”

  “Oh,” I say, letting the ring drop softly back on its chain. “He liked acting and football, huh?”

  He smiles faintly. “Yeah, he used to drive my dad crazy saying he was going to move to LA and try to make it as an actor. Dad, of course, wanted him to stay on the farm.”

  “Seems like it would have been easier to let you inherit the farm if you wanted it, so that Jesse could’ve gone to LA or do whatever he wanted to do.”

  I can tell today is better than the day in the lunchroom when Ramani spoke about Jesse at last year’s homecoming. Then, Jasper had become more closed off, distant. Tonight, when Jasper talks about his brother, his face is alive, expressive, not shuttered. “A lot of things could be easier with my dad. It’s just who he is. Everything is about tradition. The oldest son inherits the farm, like he did and his father before him. And every few years he buys a few more acres, another field or two to plant, building this empire for his family.” Jasper touches the class ring where it hangs. “And with my mom, everything is about appearance. My parents are Catholic, and they belong to a small church. Mom is always on every fund-raiser and charity-event board. So she wants us to be a model family so we don’t embarrass her.” He lifts the ring to let the ruby stone catch the light.

  “So is that why Jesse was pre
sident of everything and in all the clubs?” I ask. “His plaque in the high school makes him look like he was Superman.”

  “Pretty much. And it got to him. He used to be this happy-go-lucky kid, and then he wanted to be an actor, and there was all this crazy pressure from our parents to do the responsible thing, to do the thing that looked good.”

  “And then a hunting accident,” I say, finishing the story. I’m sorry I said it as soon as the words leave my mouth.

  “And then a hunting accident,” Jasper echoes, letting the ring drop back on its chain again.

  There’s a brief moment of silence, and in that space, I remember what Jasper asked me before, about why some people choose to leave us. And I wonder if everything about his brother’s story happened the way he told it to me. “I’m sorry. That must have been really awful,” I say quietly.

  “It was.” He starts the truck, puts his hand along the back of the seat while he backs out of the parking spot. He moves it back down to shift the truck into first gear, brushing against my shoulder. “But I don’t imagine having your mom walk out on you was stellar fun, either.”

  Now I know he’s thinking of our last conversation, too. He’s opened up to me, so I feel like I should reciprocate. “I used to wish that my mom would just get better. That she would love me enough to stop using, and then we could be a real family. We could be like this really nice family that we lived with for a little while in the city.”

  “What changed?”

  I shrug. I don’t say Mom could never forgive me, or herself, and that maybe we never had a chance of being happy together. And maybe that’s why she left.

  We’re at the first stop, and I tell Jasper I’ll wait in the truck for this one. I sit in the dark cab, watching him walk up to the brick ranch-style house, his back straight, his arms full of pink bakery boxes.

  I wonder if I’ll ever see Mom again. Or if I will go through the rest of my life trying to piece together all the good moments we had together to block out the bad ones. I wonder if she thinks of me, too. I wonder if she misses me. I wonder if she recalls how she used to push me high on the swing. How she used to lay me down in the bathtub and tell me not to unlock the door. I close my eyes, as if I could block all of it out.