Rosetown Summer

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Rosetown Summer Page 4

by Cynthia Rylant


  “She would make a good detective,” Yury remarked when they had left the shop one morning. “She’s as hard to read as Columbo.”

  Yury never missed an episode of Columbo on television.

  After Flora had promised Nessy she would ask Miss Meriwether about Indianapolis, she had stopped by the shop the next day to talk about the conservatory and a possible visit. Flora was reluctant to ask people for favors, but here she was, ready to do just that, the result of persuading Nessy to attend music camp.

  Miss Meriwether was just finishing up a sale with a customer at the counter.

  “I love a good mystery too,” she was saying to the gentleman. “Have you read Agatha Christie?”

  The gentleman said he had not.

  “I’ll put something of hers aside for your next visit,” said Miss Meriwether. “She spins quite a story.”

  Spins quite a story. Flora knew writers who did that. She had found them in Wings and a Chair. Some were like old friends.

  When the customer had gone, Miss Meriwether said a cheerful hello to Flora, giving her a quick hug.

  “How are you today, dear Flora? And your sweet kitty?” asked Miss Meriwether.

  Flora smiled. “We’re very well,” she answered. “Serenity has discovered she can jump to the top of our Hoosier cabinet.”

  “Cats do love high places,” said Miss Meriwether. “One of my friends, years ago in New York, built cat shelves all along the top of her walls. Then she and the cats moved to the country, where there were trees. She hardly saw them after that except at dinnertime. They were always in a tree. And, unlike most cats, could get themselves down again.”

  “Serenity hasn’t tried a tree,” said Flora.

  “Probably for the best,” answered Miss Meriwether with a smile. “We wouldn’t want to call out a fire truck for Miss Kitty.”

  Flora smiled. Miss Meriwether was so easy to talk to. And because she was, Flora found the courage to ask her question.

  “I came to see you today,” Flora began, “because Nessy and I were wondering…”

  No, that’s not what I mean to say, she thought. She started over.

  “Nessy is going to music camp at the high school this week,” she said.

  “Wonderful!” said Miss Meriwether. “So brave for a shy girl like Nessy. But the piano gives her courage, don’t you think?”

  “It does!” answered Flora.

  She continued:

  “And I was wondering if after Nessy’s camp is finished and if you have time and if it sounds like fun…”

  Flora took a breath.

  “… if you would like to go to the conservatory in Indianapolis with us. In your car. But we could bring the car snacks,” she finished. Then she added, “Nessy likes those orange circus peanuts.”

  Miss Meriwether gave her a big smile.

  “I love those too!” she said. “Of course! Let’s have an adventure in Indianapolis! If all the parents say yes. I’ll promise them that you and Nessy will learn all about tropical horticulture.”

  “Nessy especially loves horticulture,” said Flora. “Horticulture” was a word she had never used until now, and she liked it. She assumed it meant “plants.”

  “Nessy will be so excited.”

  “I’m excited already!” said Miss Meriwether.

  And easy as that, the trip had been set.

  Flora loved Miss Meriwether. And lately Miss Meriwether seemed to be shining in a special way. Flora searched her mind for the word.

  Luminous. Lately Miss Meriwether was luminous.

  11

  On their way to the conservatory in Indianapolis, Flora and Nessy told Miss Meriwether all about their new adventures involving toddlers and bassoons.

  “Nessy did so well in the concert,” Flora said. “She even had a solo.”

  “For ten seconds,” Nessy said with a giggle.

  “That’s only because they had to let the other pianos have a solo too,” said Flora. “There were a lot of pianos.”

  “Plus other instruments,” added Nessy.

  “It was really good,” said Flora.

  They were traveling in Miss Meriwether’s Honda Civic. In 1973 the small cars from Japan were becoming popular, and it was exciting for both girls to be traveling in one. Flora’s parents were still driving the same large car Flora’s father had had in college, which he sometimes called the Boat. Flora could not imagine Miss Meriwether in a Boat.

  Before long they saw the tall buildings of Indianapolis up ahead. The nice thing about flat land is being able to always see what is up ahead. Miss Meriwether knew just where she was going. They drove through a beautiful park graced by fountains and flower gardens and tidy sidewalks on which people strolled, some pushing baby carriages and some holding hands or just chatting.

  Then just beyond this beautiful park and around a slow curve, before Flora and Nessy were even prepared to see it, there stood the conservatory.

  Flora and Nessy couldn’t help themselves: they squealed.

  Miss Meriwether laughed and said, “I thought I was dreaming when I first saw it too. I was just about your age.”

  The conservatory was an enormous building, and its roof and its walls were all made of glass. Inside it the girls could see, even from the car, giant palm trees growing all the way to the top. A tropical landscape under glass.

  When finally they stepped into this magical glass house, for a moment the girls were silent.

  Then Flora said, “This is the nicest air I have ever tasted.”

  Everywhere, all around them, the conservatory was thick with exotic plants and trees they had never seen before, never imagined. Some leaves of the plants were so large that they seemed prehistoric, as if a dinosaur might suddenly step out from behind them.

  “Look, Nessy,” said Flora, pointing to a palm with a thick batch of long, hair-like strands sprouting from it.

  “Old Man Palm,” Nessy read aloud from the information marker. “I think he could use a haircut.”

  Flora laughed.

  They followed the meandering brick pathways throughout the conservatory, often stopping simply to gaze up at the roof of glass, so high, with so much blue sky.

  Miss Meriwether pointed toward a small tropical tree with blue star-shaped flowers.

  “Look, Flora,” she said. “It’s a Tree of Life.”

  Flora read the marker. “It says that the resin is used for healing,” Flora said. “I’ll tell Yury.”

  The three wandered slowly and dreamily through the lush, moist forest of stunning palms and ferns and giant cacti. They touched their fingers to the cool, dark water of small pools filled with giant lily pads. Even with visitors, the conservatory was quiet, with voices hushed, everyone respectful of this world.

  Eventually it was time for lunch. Miss Meriwether led the girls to the café and to one of the bistro tables located on a stone patio beside a small waterfall. Since the girls were uncertain about what to order, Miss Meriwether asked the waiter for a large plate of tea sandwiches they could all share and a pitcher of iced hibiscus flower tea.

  “Miss Meriwether, I thought of you while I was looking at the Ponytail Palm,” Nessy said with a playful smile.

  Miss Meriwether laughed.

  Sandwiches and tea arrived, beautifully presented with palm leaf plates and water lily tumblers. Everyone was quite hungry, and the food was very welcome.

  “I want to be a gardener more than ever now,” said Nessy. “Is it okay to put sugar in the tea?”

  “All the sugar you like,” Miss Meriwether said, smiling. “And what will you grow in your garden?”

  “Really tall sunflowers,” answered Nessy.

  “Sunflowers are rather like people, I’ve always thought,” said Miss Meriwether.

  “They are!” said Nessy. “I would give each one a name.”

  “You can’t name anyone Sunny,” Flora said. “Somebody already has that name!”

  Nessy giggled.

  “I’m learning all the f
lowers from a book I have,” said Nessy. “Hydrangea, foxglove, gladiolus… There are a lot of flowers.”

  “Fabulous,” said Miss Meriwether. “I always liked four-o’clocks.”

  “Me too!” said Nessy. “They’re in my book too!”

  “You could put birdhouses in your garden,” said Flora. “The birds could eat the sunflower seeds and be Sunny’s neighbors.”

  “Yes!” said Nessy.

  “Someday I hope you can visit a Japanese garden,” said Miss Meriwether. “They are meant to be places for reflection, so they are very simple, with rocks, water, lanterns.

  “And no four-o’clocks,” she added with a smile.

  “I love these tea sandwiches,” said Flora. “And the pretty plates.”

  “Small beautiful things,” said Miss Meriwether. “They make life nicer, I think.”

  “I think so too,” said Nessy. “When I have my little cottage and flower garden, I’m going to invite you and Flora for tea and tea sandwiches.”

  “Lovely!” said Miss Meriwether.

  “I’m sure I can do it,” Nessy continued. “Just boil the water and cut off the crusts.”

  They all laughed then, Miss Meriwether most of all.

  On the way back home to Rosetown, everyone was a little tired and a little quiet, which gave Flora time for her thoughts. It occurred to her that sometimes when one knows a person in only a certain setting—a bookshop, for instance—one can’t imagine how to spend time with that person in any other way. Flora remembered going with her mother for dinner at Miss Meriwether’s apartment in the Victorian house last winter. It had been fun and interesting—Flora learned about the prayer flags in the Himalayas—but she had depended on her mother to do the real visiting, to carry on the real conversation. Even though they hadn’t been in the bookshop, still they’d worn their certain roles: Owner, Part-Time Employee, Part-Time Employee’s Daughter Who Visits the Bookshop Quite a Lot.

  But today, at the conservatory, Miss Meriwether had seemed more like a friend of the family, even part of the family. Could she become an auntie? Flora wondered about this. Was it possible for someone to be a certain sort of person for a while—bookshop owner—and then somewhere in the middle of things change into another sort of person: an auntie from Montana?

  For Flora, who relied more than most on constancy, this thought was not too troubling when the person in a new role might be Miss Meriwether. If Flora’s life was like a house, Miss Meriwether was not really part of the foundation, holding the house steady and strong. She was more like a flower in the garden. If Miss Meriwether went away to Montana, and came back for visits, the house would still be all right.

  But there were some people in Flora’s life who were the foundation of the house: her mother and father and Nessy. All were constant and depended upon. Flora needed them.

  And Yury…

  Flora finally realized that the true reason why she needed Miss Meriwether to stay was because her bookshop was the foundation upon which Flora and Yury had built their friendship. The shelves of books, the Young People’s Nook, and Miss Meriwether had all held this friendship steady and strong.

  And Flora was afraid that if Miss Meriwether disappeared, and the bookshop with her, Yury would disappear as well.

  This was why Flora had been wearing the elephant charm around her neck. To keep Miss Meriwether—and him—from leaving.

  12

  During the final week of August, everyone in Rosetown was reminded that the new school year was about to begin, because of all the noise coming from the football field at the high school. In the mornings the marching band had started practicing, and the loud rap-rapping of the snare drums could be heard by all who passed by. And in the afternoons when the football team arrived to practice, the frantic tweets of the coach’s whistle confirmed that the sleepy days of summer vacation would soon be over.

  Yury and Flora met at the central park one morning during that week to give Friday a chance to do some practicing of his own: obedience skills in a public place. The park presented Friday with many canine temptations, most of them with four feet and bushy tails.

  “What if he runs away?” Flora asked Yury as they walked to a grassy open area in the middle of the park.

  “I’ll run faster,” said Yury. “But he won’t. He’s a good listener.”

  Yury came to a sudden stop. Friday stopped too. So did Flora. For a moment she thought, This must be what it feels like to be a dog in training.

  Yury looked down at Friday.

  “Watch,” he said.

  Friday looked up at him.

  “Wait,” said Yury. Then he carefully released the leash from Friday’s collar.

  “Stay,” Yury said. He then walked several paces away from Friday. Flora was looking out for squirrels.

  “Friday, come!” Yury called.

  Friday ran straight to Yury, circled around him, then stood at his left side in heel position.

  Yury gave Friday a mini-biscuit.

  “Good dog!” Yury and Flora said together. Flora clapped her hands. She had not dared move until now.

  “Eventually I’ll be able to walk all the way over there by the fountain while Friday stays here,” Yury told Flora as he leashed Friday up again.

  “He didn’t take his eyes off you,” said Flora.

  They walked together to the large fountain. A special spigot just for dogs was next to it, and Yury filled the concrete basin beneath it with water. After Friday finished drinking, Yury and Flora settled on the edge of the fountain while Friday lay down at their feet.

  “The Intermediate class is next,” Yury said. “In November.”

  “Right,” said Flora.

  “But the hardest class will be Advanced Obedience,” said Yury.

  “Yes,” said Flora. “Hand signals.”

  “Hand signals are important for Search and Rescue,” said Yury. “I wouldn’t want to stir up any grizzlies by yelling ‘Sit!’ ”

  Flora smiled.

  “Did you buy school clothes yet?” she asked.

  “No,” answered Yury, “but I got some mechanical pencils. They’re great.”

  “You just like saying ‘mechanical,’ ” said Flora.

  “It does sound impressive,” Yury said.

  They were quiet. Friday sat up to give his full attention to a squirrel running down a nearby tree.

  “Only two more weeks until Miss Meriwether leaves,” Flora said finally.

  Yury looked at her. “That soon? I can hardly believe it,” he answered.

  “My mother had her to our house on Sunday for cinnamon rolls,” Flora said. “Miss Meriwether told us that she might get married,” Flora said.

  “What?” said Yury with a look of surprise.

  “Her friend in Montana,” said Flora, “was a boy she knew right here, in Rosetown, when they were growing up.”

  “Really?” asked Yury.

  “His name is Robert,” said Flora. “She liked him a lot. But when they graduated, he joined the Navy, and she went to India. She didn’t know where he was for years. Then one day after last Christmas, his father walked into the bookshop.”

  “Wow,” said Yury. “And…?”

  “And he told her that Robert was living in Montana. So she wrote to him. And he wrote back. They wrote a lot. She said they wrote fifteen years of letters in three months.”

  “Amazing,” said Yury.

  “She needs to go,” said Flora.

  Yury nodded.

  “She said that someone might buy the bookshop,” Flora added. “Rosetown really needs a bookshop.”

  Yury nodded again. Then he looked at Flora.

  “I was thinking,” he said, “that maybe we could try something totally new. While we’re waiting to see what happens to the shop.”

  “Really?” asked Flora. “What?”

  “Horseback riding,” said Yury.

  Flora looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “There’s a stable outside of
town,” Yury said. “I asked my mother, she said she can drop us off and pick us up.”

  “Horses?” asked Flora. Horses were so beautiful.

  “We should learn how to ride,” said Yury.

  He waited for Flora to say something.

  “Do you remember that book The Mystery Horse?” asked Flora finally.

  “I do, but I didn’t read it,” Yury said. “You’re the one who loves the horse stories. You’re the one who loves horses.”

  You’re the one who loves horses. Flora silently repeated the words.

  Then she realized that Yury wanted to take riding lessons for her. He wanted this for her.

  “Did you know that people used to ride horses to the bank in Rosetown?” she asked him. She would have to think all of her many thoughts later.

  “You have told me that a million times,” said Yury with a smile.

  Flora smiled too. They had spent a lot of time together if a story had been shared a million times. A lot of time. Enough for a foundation.

  Flora bent over and gave Friday a big hug.

  Maybe someday she would take Yury to see the Tree of Life.

  But for now it was almost time to start fifth grade.

  What a beautiful day this was. In Rosetown, Indiana.

  More from this Series

  Rosetown

  More from the Author

  Gooseberry Park and the…

  Every Living Thing

  A Blue-Eyed Daisy

  A Fine White Dust

  About the Author

  Cynthia Rylant grew up in West Virginia and then spent many years living in the Midwest. Today she lives in an old, green house in Oregon.

  Visit us at simonandschuster.com/kids

  www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/Cynthia-Rylant

  Beach Lane Books

  Simon & Schuster, New York

  Also by Cynthia Rylant

 

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