A Family Christmas. Carrie Alexander
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had been forced to when Black Jack was in one of his moods.
Get me out of here, she thought, taking the cordless phone outside to the dusky backyard, as far as the range allowed. Behind her, the window near the dining table opened with a screech of the sash. Her mother must have had a burst of strength to go along with her nosiness.
Rose’s exhale was visible in the cold air. Frost tonight. She wrapped her sweater tighter and punched out Evan’s number—memorized. He’d written it on the back of a scrap of paper from his wallet and asked her to call as soon as she was certain of her work schedule. She hadn’t told him that she was in charge at the Buck Stop and could arrange any hours she liked as long as the time was covered by the store’s only other employee, a grumpy retiree aptly named Cross who worked to pick up extra income to supplement his social security.
The phone was ringing. “Hullo,” Evan said, harried but cheerful. “Grant residence.”
A match flared inside the house. Rose realized she should have called from work, but all she’d been thinking was to get it over with already.
“Hello?”
It was strange, hearing Evan’s voice on the phone. Familiar, but not. Slightly thrilling.
“Anyone there?”
“Hello,” she finally said. She cleared her throat. “It’s Rose. Robbin. Rose Robbin.”
“Rose. Good to hear from you. Lucy’s been asking about the lesson every day—she’s very excited.”
“I, uh, the store’s been busy lately.”
“I hope you’re not backing out.”
“No. I can be free any afternoon the rest of this week.”
“Well, let’s see. Lucy gets out of school at three and usually goes to her baby-sitter’s house while I have basketball practice. I could probably take time off to run her out to your place—”
“Not my place.” Rose thought frantically, struck by the notion that if she worked it right, she might be able to catch sight of a few minutes of the basketball practice. “I could come to the school, and stay with Lucy while you ran the practice. That way you won’t need the baby-sitter at all.”
The grade school and the high school were separate buildings on the same property, linked by covered walkways that led to a common structure that served both schools. The gymnasium was part of the central building, and surely that’s where they’d meet. Rose held her breath, pressing the phone so tightly to her ear that it hurt.
“I suppose I might ask for a favor and have the art room opened,” Evan said.
“Oh, don’t bother. I’d rather take Lucy outdoors. If that’s all right with you.”
“Nature sketching?”
“Yes.”
“If the weather’s bad—”
“We’ll figure something out.”
“That works for me. I’ll be sure that Lucy dresses warmly.”
“Great. Tomorrow okay?”
“Sure. You’re more eager than I expected.”
Rose felt guilty. She swallowed that, too. “Uh, yeah. I guess maybe it’ll be okay.”
Evan laughed. “There’s the Rose I know.”
He thought he knew her? He’d barely scratched the surface.
“Okay, then,” she said. “Bye.”
His startled “Bye,” came as she was pressing the Off button.
Rose stuck the phone in the pocket of her cardigan and absently rubbed her stinging ear. She supposed she’d been too abrupt. Talking on the phone with “boys” was another social skill she’d never developed properly. None of her boyfriends—if they could be called that—had ever called for her at home. She hadn’t had real dates, either. Just met them at the bridge or the beach. Sometimes she’d been picked up at the side of the road.
She kicked at a pinecone embedded in the stretch of dirt and brittle pine needles that was the backyard. God, she’d been dumb. And naive, even though she’d thought she was tough.
“Rose?” came her mother’s voice, carrying out the window. “Are you finished with the phone?”
“Shut the window, Mom. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She went over to the small garden she’d put in that spring. Nothing much to speak of, just a few rows of carrots, squash, cucumbers and lettuce. Several old rusty barrels contained the tomato plants and she bent over them, searching through the cold leaves for the remaining green fruits. More of the tomatoes remained on the vines than she’d expected and she cradled the pile of hard globes in her sweater, her fingertips gone numb with cold.
The wind was sharp and brisk. Beyond the darkness, the river rushed and gurgled, a sound so familiar it had taken moving away for her to miss the soothing constant.
For a long time, she’d believed she hated this place.
Now…maybe not. The memories had faded, even the worst of them. At least to a livable degree.
She’d learned not to expect more than adequacy from her life.
Rose straightened, folding the edge of her sweater over and holding the awkward bundle to her abdomen. She walked to the back door, feeling nearly as unwieldy as a pregnant lady.
Unexpectedly, the comparison made her smile. She’d pushed the pregnancy to the back of her mind for many years, but returning to her hometown had brought it all up again. There were times she had to consciously work to keep her feelings to herself. Aside from a small circle of people—her nonsupportive family, the despicable Lindstroms, Pastor Mike—it was still a secret to Alouette that she’d once been pregnant.
She didn’t suppose that the townspeople would be too surprised to learn the truth. They’d always believed the worst of Wild Rose.
AFTER AN HOUR OUTDOORS in the quiet, shaded woods, stepping into the school gym was an assault on the senses. The intense illumination from the banks of overhead lights bounced off the varnished floor and white cement-block walls. The sight, sound and fury of the basketball players was overwhelming—running, flying, crashing bodies, shouts and animal grunts, the constant tattoo of the basketball on the floor and the backboard. Evan’s shouts and the shrill pierce of his whistle added to the cacophony.
Although Lucy should have been somewhat accustomed to the raucous scene, Rose wasn’t surprised that the girl remained by the door, staring at the scrimmage in progress with wide eyes. Rose took Lucy’s hand and they walked into the gym, past the rows of blue metal bleachers.
Evan saw them and waved. He said something to his team and then ran across the floor, all bouncy energy and squeaking sneakers. He wore a sleeveless T-shirt with sweatpants, his face and arms glistening with perspiration. “Hey! Lesson over?”
Rose stepped back, her nostrils flared. So much testosterone. Muscles. Male. “We came inside to warm up.” Her tongue was thick in her mouth. “Is that okay?”
“Sure it is. Go ahead and take a seat.” Evan glanced at his watch. “I’ve got another twenty minutes of practice. You’re welcome to stay, but if you’d rather leave…”
“I’ll stay.” Rose was trying not to stare at the boys, but only one thought was running through her head: Danny’s there, Danny’s there.
“Great.” Evan jogged away, turning on nimble feet to continue backward as he added, “There are vending machines in—”
Rose waved him on. “We’re set.” She’d stuck a Thermos of hot chocolate and a few cookies in her backpack.
He saluted and returned to the practice.
She