Skies Like These

by Tess Hilmo

  Jade couldn’t help but smile. Still, the thought of turning around and stepping blindly off her aunt’s roof in the pitch-black night had her feet feeling like worthless lumps of granite.

  “Like it or not, you’ve got to do it,” Roy said matter-of-factly. “You can’t spend your whole vacation on this rooftop.”

  “You’re right, Roy,” Jade said.

  “Then let’s go.” He walked over and stepped down first.

  His parents followed, leaving Aunt Elise and Jade alone at the top. “Look right here,” Aunt Elise said, lifting the lantern and pointing to her face. “The whole time you’re taking that first step, hold on to these rails, feel with your foot, and keep your eyes on me.”

  Jade wiped her sweaty palms along the sides of her jeans and took a long, slow breath. She did like she was told, feeling with her foot and keeping her eyes focused on Aunt Elise’s face. She noticed how her aunt’s smile pushed her cheeks up into her bottom eyelashes and how the lantern light made her teeth gleam. She focused intently on the brown lines of pencil that made up most of her aunt’s eyebrows and soon she realized she was halfway down the ladder.

  “Chin up,” Aunt Elise said. “Keep your focus on me.” She was leaning over from the rooftop, smiling in a yellow circle of light. From where she was, Jade thought the image wasn’t unlike those patron-saint pictures she had seen with the golden halos framing each divine head. Saint Elise, guardian of the ladder descenders.

  And then Jade’s foot hit the ground.

  “Huzzah!” Mr. Parker punched a fist into the night.

  Aunt Elise was down in a flash. “You were so brave—exactly like Robinson Crusoe in that moment.” She was beaming at Jade’s side. “In that scene where he saw the eyes of a devil in the cave and decided to confront his fear face-to-face.”

  A muddle of relief and elation was pulsing through Jade’s veins. “I read that part. He was freaking out, but when he went inside the cave, it was only a goat.”

  “Exactly.” Aunt Elise gave a pat to the side of the ladder. “Tonight, my fellow adventurer, you turned this devil into a goat.”

  “It will get easier from here on out,” Mr. Parker promised.

  “Not bad for a city girl,” Roy added.

  “Let’s head home,” Mr. Parker said.

  “You were right about Jade,” Mrs. Parker said. “She is something else.” Then she took Roy by the hand and followed her husband down the driveway.

  Aunt Elise turned to Jade. “You must be exhausted.”

  Jade was exhausted. Philadelphia time was two hours later than Wellington time so their midnight was her two in the morning. She followed Aunt Elise inside, went to her new room, and climbed into bed. The room was cozy enough, but it still wasn’t her bedroom. It still wasn’t home. She let out a ragged breath, thinking of her own blue-and-yellow bedspread and perfectly cushy pillows back home. More than anything, that was where she longed to be.

  Rain started up again, pelting the windows and clattering against the flat roof. Jade snuggled in and thought of what Aunt Elise had said about her being brave. There were a lot of words Jade would use to describe herself: smart, thoughtful, loyal, occasionally funny if she got it just right, prudent—that was a good one—but never brave and never ever anything close to adventurous.

  Jade decided to read a few more pages in her book when a soft purr slid through the crack in the door and, a moment later, Copernicus bounded onto the bed. He circled around, working the quilt this way and that, nestling down to sleep.

  Jade pulled her knees up away from the cat. “Go on,” she said, “scat.”

  Copernicus positioned himself right in the middle of the bottom half of her bed and clearly had no intention of leaving. Jade jabbed at the cat with her foot, but he didn’t move. She let out another tired breath and put the book on the side table. Then she turned out the light, curled up near the head of the bed, and decided to let him be. It was an interesting feeling to have another presence in the room—hearing the cat’s smooth purr and feeling his weight on the covers. It reminded her of when she was a little girl, only three or four years old. How her mother used to sit at the foot of her bed and hum soft lullabies into the night. The music would weave its way through the darkness and ease her to sleep.

  Somewhere along the way, though, she had become too old for lullabies and now it had been years since her mother tucked her in that way. Years since anything had hummed her to sleep.

  5

  Morning sun cut through a slit in the curtains. Jade blinked and rubbed her eyes awake. Copernicus reached out his front paws, stretched, and jumped off the bed. The pine-plank floors were cool under Jade’s feet and the warm, salty smell of bacon pulled her toward the kitchen.

  “Hello, Morning Glory,” Aunt Elise sang out when Jade shuffled into the room.

  Jade sat down at the table. “It smells wonderful. Thanks for cooking breakfast.” She was used to cold cereal. Both her parents worked and were off before the sun even had a chance to think about rising.

  “I wanted to make you bacon and eggs and pancakes but I hate washing a lot of dishes so I decided to try cooking them all in the same skillet.” She was bustling around the stove and lobbing a black spatula in the air as she spoke.

  Jade remembered dinner from the night before and started getting a sneaking impression her perfect breakfast was about to go down the tubes.

  “It’s all about improvisation.” Aunt Elise slapped something onto a plate and ceremoniously turned to place it on the table. “Ta-da!”

  Jade stared at her breakfast. It was a pancake with chunks of scrambled egg and pieces of bacon cooked right into the dough. An eddy of bacon grease lined the edges, seeping into the pancake and giving it a soggy sheen. “How creative,” she said.

  Aunt Elise was glowing. “I know! Don’t be shy, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

  Jade reached for the syrup and poured it over her breakfast conglomerate, trying to drown out the puddles of grease with sugar. The combination was tragic.

  Aunt Elise sat down, resting her chin on both palms. “It’s so great having you here!”

  A tender feeling settled over the kitchen. It was the same feeling Jade had had when Astro sighed under her touch or when Copernicus peeked through one slit eye before falling asleep at her feet. It was warm and inviting. She took a fork and started picking at her plate. Aunt Elise danced back to the stove top and began jostling the batter bowl and pan.

  “What’s kickin’, chicken?” Roy was at the back door. He sat down next to Jade and gave a twisted look at the mess of egg and meat and dough on her plate. He leaned over. “My mom’s making cinnamon rolls over at our place. We can go there later if you want.”

  Jade shoved her fork into an egg glob. “I love this breakfast.”

  One side of Roy’s mouth flattened out. “Suit yourself.”

  Jade took another bite, set down her fork, glanced over at her aunt, and whispered, “Maybe later.”

  “You want one, Roy?” Aunt Elise said from beside the stove. “I’ve got plenty.”

  “I’m good. Thanks, though.” He leaned back in his chair and pulled his belt buckle up. This one was black with a bucking bronco carved into the metal. Jade noticed the saddle on the bronco was lined with red, white, and blue stones. “My mom sent me over because she said you might have a job for me today.”

  “Indeed I do,” Aunt Elise said. “I was hoping you’d give the dogs a bath. I’ll pay you five dollars a dog.”

  “I sure appreciate the work.”

  Aunt Elise waved the spatula at Jade. “Maybe you can convince this one to be your assistant.”

  Roy sat up. “I’d like the help, but I would have to pay Jade’s portion in cinnamon rolls. I kind of need the cash right now.”

  “That’s a decent offer,” Aunt Elise said. “Nothing’s better than Brenda’s cinnamon rolls, except maybe her poetry.”

  “Your mom’s a poet?” Jade asked.

  “She mes
ses with it, I guess.”

  “Help me with these dishes, why don’t you, Jade,” Aunt Elise suggested, “and then you can meet Roy out in the side yard by the dog runs.”

  Roy started toward the door. “But don’t dawdle. I’m only offering our prize-winning cinnamon rolls for real work.”

  “Dawdle?” Jade asked.

  “It’s a Wyoming thing.” And he was out the door.

  Aunt Elise dropped the batter bowl into the sink and turned on the faucet. “That boy,” she said, shaking her head. “What a character.”

  Jade was tempted to agree—Roy was funny. But he wasn’t a character. It was clear he took the cowboy lifestyle seriously.

  After wiping down the table and helping her aunt dry and put away the few dishes, Jade headed out to meet Roy. He was turning off the hose bib by an aluminum tub of soapy water.

  “Perfect timing,” he said. “You let them out of their runs and I’ll get a rope tied to this post so they can’t take off during their bath.”

  Jade started opening the chain-link-fenced dog runs. Each run had a doghouse, food and water bowls, mounds of straw for lounging, and a single dog. Aunt Elise had told her the night before that the dogs were allowed to roam her fenced yard during the day, but went into their individual runs at night. Jade thought that was practical.

  As she opened the gates, some dogs came running, hoping it was time for a morning stroll or treat. Others lay back in their piles of straw and offered up sorrowful looks like, Do you not see me sleeping?

  Astro was one of the latter.

  “Come on, boy,” Jade called, waving a hand.

  Astro couldn’t care less about the open gate or theatrics. He raised his head, looked at Jade, and laid his head back down again. Decision made.

  “You’re going to have to go in and pull him out by the collar,” Roy said.

  Jade gave Roy a look. “He’s happy where he is. I don’t want to upset him.”

  “Go on. He’s feeling lazy is all. Sometimes you gotta let them know who’s boss.”

  Jade looked at the muscles rippling down Astro’s back and thick neck. “I think we both know he’s boss.”

  “Is that one of those failed-joke attempts again?” Roy asked, tying the last loop of the rope on the post.

  Jade went into the dog run and reached toward Astro. “It’s okay, boy. I’m here to help you.” Astro pressed his head against Jade’s outstretched hand, like he was asking for some love. “Aw, that’s sweet.” Jade scratched behind his ears and wrapped her fingers around his collar. “Let’s come out and have a bath,” she said, pulling on the collar.

  Astro didn’t move. Jade tugged and pulled but the dog wouldn’t budge an inch. She dug her heels into the ground, leaned back, and yanked mightily. The collar slipped up, over, and off Astro’s head, sending Jade into a backward lunge to the ground. Thunk!

  Roy let out a deep belly laugh.

  “I thought a real cowboy would always help a damsel in distress, not sit and laugh at her.”

  Roy adjusted his belt buckle. “You’re right,” he said, coming over and helping Jade off the ground. “It was just so funny to see you go flying through the air.”

  “Hilarious.” Jade brushed the red clay dust from her bottom.

  Roy reached into his pocket and pulled out a chunk of jerky. “This’ll do the job,” he said, waving the dried meat under Astro’s nose and then walking over and tossing it on the grass. Astro came out of his run and collapsed onto the lawn.

  “Get Lobo,” Roy said. “We’ll start with him.”

  Jade looked across the yard, where a gaggle of dogs were sniffing through the dewy grass. “Which one is Lobo?”

  Roy whistled, bringing the dogs running. “Let me introduce you.” He went through, touching each dog’s head, scratching its ears and rubbing the spot between its eyes. “This one is Mia,” he said, tugging on the collar of the white, jumpy dog. “She’s a shepherd mix. Then there’s Yaz here, he’s a spaniel. Sadie and Lady come every few weeks when their mom goes away on business.” He was pointing out two identical collies—both with long copper fur and white tufts around their noses and ears. “Emerson is a beagle. If you hear a dog howling, it’s likely Emerson. Jack is a true mutt and proud of it. Astro needs no introduction.”

  “No,” Jade said. “He took care of that himself.”

  “Astro will cure you of any shyness, like it or not.” He lifted up a rolly black pug. “Isn’t that right, Lobo?” The pug wiggled his stumpy tail and blinked his bug eyes. Three crooked teeth jutted from his bottom jaw over his upper lip.

  Jade counted the dogs. “Wait, I thought there were nine.”

  “Ah,” Roy said. “Genghis Khan, the terror of terriers.” He raised his chin toward a run where the black-and-brown terrier had snuck back into his doghouse. “He doesn’t like being told what to do.”

  “How do you know them all so well?”

  “They’re mostly return customers, especially in the summer when their owners travel more. Astro is always here, though. He’s kind of their mascot, I guess.” Roy set Lobo down in the tub and tied the rope around his collar. Shimmery soap bubbles rose up around the dog’s face and Lobo began snapping his jaws, trying to eat them. With each bite, he’d lick his mouth and look confused, uncertain how the bubble had disappeared. Roy plunged his hands into the water and began running his fingers through Lobo’s fur. Lobo closed his eyes and made grunting noises.

  “I think he likes you.” Jade sat down on the edge of the porch, feet dangling next to the big tub where Lobo was enjoying his bath.

  “Of course he does.” Roy offered his confident cowboy grin. “What’s not to like?”

  6

  When the last clean dog was basking in the sun and Roy was hosing out the dirt at the bottom of the washtub, Jade once again brought up the subject she had been so curious about. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  Roy turned off the hose, flipped the tub upside down against the side of the porch, and nodded. “I’ll get my pay and we can talk on the way to my house for your cinnamon rolls.” He went inside and then came out, folding a small stack of cash in half and shoving it into his pocket. “Let’s go.”

  “How far is it?”

  “Just down the road.”

  Jade followed him out onto the street. Bronze grass swayed and danced in the fields, dotted with pink coneflowers and purple wild-onion blossoms. A light breeze wrapped around them. Houses were sprawled out across the landscape, each at a polite distance from the next. Back in Philly, a house wasn’t even allowed its own shadow.

  “How big are these lots?”

  “Anywhere from two to four acres. They’re big enough to give people breathing room but still friendly enough to be a town.” He pointed to a side yard where two shiny black horses were chewing on a pile of hay. “That’s the best part of living here,” he said. “The skies, the land, the people—they’re all good. But the horses are something else.”

  “Have you ever owned one?” Jade asked.

  “Nah,” Roy said, “they don’t come cheap. Someday I will, though.” His words were full of faith.

  Jade looked across the field where the horses nudged each other, each working to get the best clump of hay. “It seems real nice.”

  “For the most part,” Roy agreed. “But some things are changing for the worse.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well.” Roy picked a purple onion blossom that was weaving out of a three-rail fence. It was a round purple fluff ball on a thin green stem. “It’s a lot to tell; are you in a listening mood?”

  Jade stopped and sat down on the curb. She motioned for Roy to join her. “Listening is what I do best of all.”

  Roy sat down and picked out one purple tuft after another from the onion blossom, shredding it by bits and pieces. “Okay,” he started. “Wellington has always been a small town, a family town. My dad ran County Hardware, the local hardware store here, for the past fifteen years.”
<
br />   “Aunt Elise told me about the time your dad took her onto the roof to see stars.”

  “That’s right,” Roy said. “He has a way of knowing what people need, and he helped all sorts of folks with that store. If someone needed a tool, he’d give them a hands-on demonstration. If someone needed fencing, he’d go over to their house and help dig the holes for the posts. Heck, one time Mrs. Wilson brought in an actual lemon and had him match a gallon of paint to the fruit because she didn’t think the paint chips were lemony enough.” The memory of that made him laugh out loud.

  “Your dad’s a good guy.”

  “The best. He spent the past three days pouring a concrete wheelchair ramp for a friend of ours who used to be a coal miner and moved here a few years ago. Angelo has that awful black-lung disease and it’s gotten worse lately. My dad didn’t build the ramp because anyone asked him to—he did it because he happened to pass by when Angelo was trying to maneuver his wheelchair up this rickety homemade dealy-o.”

  Jade remembered the mention of Angelo during stars the night before.

  “Anyway, that hardware store was more than a job to my dad. It was part of who he was.” The onion blossom was now just a stem so Roy started twisting it around his little finger.

  “Was?”

  “He had to close the doors two weeks ago. We aren’t losing the lease until September first but he couldn’t pay the electric bill and employees anymore.” The flower stem was getting tight around Roy’s pinkie.

  Jade reached out and started gently unwinding the stem. “I’m sorry, Roy. That’s got to be tough. Did your mom work at the store, too, or does she have another job?”

  “She helped out when she could, especially these past few months.”

  “What about her poetry? Does she ever sell it?”

  “Not really. The worst part is when you hear why we lost the business. This snake named Kip Farley moved into town last year and opened one of those ugly big-box home improvement stores four stoplights down from our place. And get this—it’s called the Hammer and Nail. What kind of lame name is that?”

  “Not terrible for a hardware store, actually.”