Season of the Dragonflies

by Sarah Creech

  WILLOW SHOULD NEVER drive when she’s angry. Lucia held on to the handle above the passenger-side window in the pickup and eyed the branches reaching across the road above them. The truck bed bounced on the smallest of bumps and often verged on fishtailing around the winding bends of Hickory Lane. When Willow was angry, she sped, and when she sped, the chances of the truck running off the road tripled. It had happened many times before, and Robert had always been the one to go rescue her.

  Willow gripped the wheel as if her own strength kept it attached to the steering column. Her white hair whipped her face like tentacles, and instead of rolling up her window, she kept pushing the strands back, refusing to remedy the issue the easiest way she could. Lucia had witnessed her mother act calm under pressure, like the time Mya jumped from the crape myrtle tree because she assumed she could fly and fell on a boulder, breaking both arms. Her mother didn’t shout or panic. She quickly made two splints from some broken barn planks and wrapped them with red handkerchiefs left by workers. But anger caused her mother to behave differently. Lucia would insist on driving home from the factory.

  Hickory Lane snaked through the thick Blue Ridge forest with white Queen Anne’s lace lining the roadway and bushy maples and oaks making a shaded canopy over them. Light barely penetrated the roof of leaves. Lucia knew she was close to the factory when the shade darkened the road. The sun beamed at the end of the tree tunnel, and a herd of young deer grazed in front of the gates.

  Willow came to a sudden stop and waited for each one to pass, but one fawn remained stubbornly centered in front of their bumper. Willow leaned out the window and said, “Go on, now,” and it still didn’t budge. Lucia opened her door, stepped out, and clapped behind the deer, but it wouldn’t go. She popped it on its behind and the fawn finally pranced away.

  Lucia returned to the truck. Willow looked over at her for a long time, and then her blue eyes softened, her jaw relaxed, and she said, “Thanks,” in a way that made Lucia feel like her mother was thanking her for much more than the deer.

  “You’re welcome,” Lucia said.

  Willow punched in the code to open the gates, which were covered in morning glory vines. They separated slowly, as if daring one to enter. “Get the tag out,” Willow said, and Lucia assumed she still kept it in the glove box. She hung the white parking tag from the rearview mirror, and her mother drove down the gravel road lined by crape myrtle trees and headed toward the administrative building. Robert’s main office was located there, and he also had a separate manager’s office in the factory itself, which towered behind the small brick building where Willow parked.

  The square factory with its flat, gravel-lined roof stood four stories tall, and on the top floor Lucia could see the heavy gold drapes that lined the windows of the loft where she had spent many afternoons as a young girl. It was a home away from home and the only part of the factory Lucia liked as a child. Sometimes her mother arranged a slumber party for the three of them in the loft if she needed to pull an all-night expense check or if a batch wasn’t turning out just right. Mya and Lucia cuddled together in a king-size bed, drank cold Cokes, ate stale cookies from the vending machines, and watched animated movies on the broken VCR, rewinding the black tape manually and replaying it until they fell asleep. Those were the best nights—the comfort of knowing their mother was hard at work but never too far away to check on them. She’d slip into the bed between them, and they’d both curl up against her and toss arms and legs on her as they slept. Once Lucia and Mya started dating, most of their little rituals disappeared. Her mother probably hadn’t stayed the night in many years.

  Willow left the keys in the ignition with the windows rolled down and said, “Come on.” She smoothed her dress and walked directly to the glass door in front of them. Lucia hurried behind her, just like she was nine years old again. Inside, the building was filled with a hyper mix of scents, high floral notes of jasmine and rose with the sweetness of vanilla and the earthiness of sandalwood. So many different products were manufactured in their factory, for which Lenore Incorporated acted as a middleman, moving organic soaps, body washes, shampoos, conditioners, and bubble baths from idea to store shelves. This brought in very little revenue compared to the perfume. As far as anyone working here knew, Lenore Incorporated also created small batches of high-end perfume that sold to obscenely wealthy clients in Europe. If a bottle ever broke, the entire factory evacuated immediately for cleanup by Robert only.

  Lucia had overheard her mother’s business affairs enough to know that this setup was the only way to manufacture the perfume for a few weeks each year while also keeping the factory running year-round like a legitimate business. The FDA had found out about their product a couple decades ago as a result of rumors, just before Lucia was born. The agency had attempted to obtain a sample to determine whether the perfume changed the chemical composition of a woman’s body. If it did, then the perfume would fall under the FDA’s cosmetic jurisdiction and require regulation. Willow had very good female friends in important political positions and, as a result, the FDA backed off and had yet to study it. The Lenore clients used the perfume at their own risk; that much was made very clear in the contract. No one had ever threatened to report them to the FDA.

  The walls of the reception area were bare compared to her mother’s office at home. They couldn’t plaster the faces of famous clients on the wall, just in case the wrong people walked inside for a look around. The green walls did showcase the many different soaps and cleaning agents the factory produced for companies whose commercials graced the airways during prime time. Much had changed in fifteen years, and Lucia didn’t recognize a single staff member’s face, especially not that of Robert’s male assistant, who looked closer to fourteen than adulthood with his pliant, rosy skin and happy demeanor. Genuine naïveté. He brought Willow a bottle of sparkling water. “Would your guest like anything?” he asked Willow, and she said, “This is my daughter. You can ask her.”

  Red-faced, he turned to Lucia and said, “I’m so sorry. Could I bring you a coffee or tea or soda?”

  “No thanks,” Lucia said, and she felt bad for him. Willow could be so blunt.

  “Robert’s waiting for you,” the assistant said. He walked away with his head bowed like a child. Willow moved past his desk and knocked on Robert’s office door twice before opening it. Lucia followed behind her, unsure if she should barge in with her mother. Willow looked over her shoulder as if to make sure Lucia was directly behind her.

  Robert hurriedly ended his phone call and stood up from his desk. Lucia first noticed the soft roundness in his waist and then his balding head. Robert came around his desk with arms wide open. Before Lucia could move, he’d wrapped her up in a two-hundred-pound bear hug and said, “I can’t believe it. Look at you. You haven’t changed a bit,” and she loved him for that, because she knew it wasn’t true. “I had no idea you were home,” he said. “You’ll have to tell me all about the Big Apple when we’re done here.” He brought a chair over from the far wall. Papers and wind-up toys cluttered his desk, as usual, and his office smelled faintly of macaroni and cheese. Of all the people in Quartz Hollow, Lucia had missed Robert the most.

  Willow rubbed her cheek with one hand and waited for Robert to take his seat before she said, “You know I’m always worried when you call me directly.”

  “I wouldn’t if I didn’t need to,” Robert said, “but this is serious.”

  “Well, come on already, Robert,” Willow said, “what is it?”

  He folded his large hands together and his shoulders settled. “I sampled the essence today and it’s just not right.”

  “Not right?” Willow echoed.

  “Yes,” Robert said, and handed her the sample in a small vial. Willow uncorked it and waved it beneath her nose.

  He continued, “The first two acres we harvested looked healthy in the field, but maybe they didn’t handle the transport like they always have; that’s all I can guess.”

  Willow no
dded and Lucia’s heart was pounding. Robert and Brenda were the only staff members who knew the truth about their perfume, and Robert appeared worried.

  Willow said, “Have any procedures or equipment changed? Did a worker miss a step?”

  “No, ma’am, I oversee it like a hawk,” he said, “and if I wanted to change anything you know I’d run that by you first.” Lucia loved this about Robert. He and her mother were the same age, yet he still deferred to her in this polite way.

  Willow rested her back in the chair and tucked her ankles beneath it. She gripped the armrest like she was prepared for a bullet.

  “What does that mean?” Lucia finally said.

  Robert shifted in his seat. “Something’s wrong with the flower. It’s like it lost its scent once we got it here. And the whole harvest is probably contaminated. We’ve still got four hundred and five acres to bring in, and if it’s anything like the first two we tested, then there won’t be a yield this year.”

  Willow brought her hands to her lips and stared at Robert. “I went to the fields. They didn’t look like they’d finished blooming maybe, like it’s late this year. And I know it’s not been late like this, but couldn’t that be it? Just postpone the harvest for two weeks? I meant to call you and suggest it but I got distracted and forgot.”

  Robert shook his head. He said, “We wait two weeks and they’ll die, I promise. I’ve known these flowers my entire life, you know I have, and two more weeks will promise us no yield this year. Maybe the flowers looked a little smaller, but they’ve finished blooming as much as they’re going to; that’s what I believe. But it’s your company, so if you want me to postpone I will.”

  “Where’s our botanist? What’s his name?” Willow said. Lucia rubbed her lips with her fingertips and pressed in deeply with her nails, a nervous fidget she’d tried to conquer during the long wait of casting calls. Willow had forgotten to call about the flowers, she had forgotten to review the contract, and she had forgotten Jonah’s name; it seemed like her mother’s memory was failing. Had she seen a neurologist already and chosen not to tell Mya and Lucia?

  “Dr. Phillips took off six months. Paid, remember? Went to collect plant samples in rural China or somewhere.”

  “Yes, I remember,” Willow said defensively.

  Robert gave a small cough, like he didn’t believe her. Neither did Lucia. Robert said, “We could fly someone else in to test the plants, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Willow stared off at a point above Robert’s head.

  Something was clearly wrong with her mother. Lucia didn’t know where to begin or who to talk to first. She hoped the cloud over Mya’s head would be gone whenever Mya finally returned to the cabin, because now they had a much bigger issue to deal with together: how to approach Willow about her memory loss. They’d have to confront her, and she’d insist nothing was wrong and that she was too busy to go to a doctor. Much had changed since Lucia last came home, but her mother’s stubbornness surely hadn’t. Her mother assumed Mya had gone behind her back with that letter to Zoe, but Lucia wondered if maybe Mya did it because Willow wouldn’t admit her problem.

  “There’s not enough time to vet someone new, and I won’t have just anybody come in here to work with the plants.” Willow leaned forward in her chair and her voice lowered. “If I have to tell my existing clients I can’t provide next year’s perfume supply, that’ll be it, won’t it?”

  “We have some in reserve,” Robert said.

  “But not enough,” Willow replied. Robert nodded his head as if he knew she would say that. “I’d have to ration it, and what a nightmare that would be. We’d lose customer confidence in our product.”

  Lucia held her breath, expecting her mother to explode like she had at home, but instead Willow sat still.

  “What happens now?” Lucia asked.

  Robert said, “I can go ahead and test another few acres today. Or thin-wash what we have on reserve.”

  Willow said, “This isn’t good.” She repeated this phrase like she hadn’t heard Robert, and Lucia grew even more concerned that her mother was losing her mind. “We can’t waste any.”

  “Or maybe you can wait a few days,” Lucia said.

  “What for?” Willow said.

  Lucia moved to the edge of her seat; she needed confidence for this one. “For someone else to check the plants, and I think—”

  “No,” Willow said, interrupting. “Absolutely not. No strangers.”

  “But he’s been around them before,” Lucia said, and the room became very quiet.

  Her mother’s face looked like a child’s as she tried to guess the riddle. She said, “Ben?”

  Lucia nodded.

  “He’s home now, that’s true,” Robert said.

  “You saw him?” Willow asked her daughter.

  “I ran into him earlier today at the market,” Lucia told her.

  “I should’ve told you,” Willow said. “Didn’t think you’d be here long enough to see him.”

  This wasn’t the time to discuss why a warning would’ve been nice. “You know he’s qualified.”

  “I could call him,” Robert said. “I know he’s busy with his farming and taking care of his mama, but it can’t hurt to ask him.”

  “Mrs. White?” Lucia couldn’t restrain the surprise and concern in her voice. He hadn’t mentioned anything about his mother when she saw him.

  “She’s sick,” Willow said, and Robert nodded.

  “With what?”

  “Lung cancer, I believe,” Willow said. “I should know for sure but I don’t.”

  “That’s what it is,” Robert agreed.

  That explained why Ben was home. If Ben lost his mother, he’d have no one left. An orphan in his thirties. His father had died a few years back, and Willow had called to tell Lucia—one of the rare snippets of Quartz Hollow news that Lucia cared to hear about.

  “Go ahead and call him, Robert, but be discreet,” Willow said.

  “He’s coming over for dinner tomorrow night, and I’m sure he’d take a look then.” The traits Lucia remembered most about Ben were his eagerness to take care of her family and his curiosity about the Gardenia potentiae plants. They were what had inspired him to study phytology in the first place.

  Willow shot her a look.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t mention it, that’s all.”

  “It’s just to catch up.” The more Lucia tried to convince herself of the innocent nature of the dinner, the more her body tingled at the idea of him.

  Willow raised one eyebrow. “Call Bennie for me, Robert.”

  “Will do.”

  “Mom.”

  “What?”

  Poor Robert’s head kept turning back and forth, like a referee’s at a volleyball match.

  “He’s all grown up, remember?” Lucia said.

  “I bet his mother still calls him Bennie.”

  With that, Lucia refused to look at her mother again. Willow had wanted Ben to be her son-in-law. She had even planned to finance his education and appoint him the resident plant pathologist in the family. She had wanted Lucia to stay in Quartz Hollow, birth daughters with Ben, and live happily ever after.

  Willow stood and said, “Thank you, Robert. We’ll see what Ben says and I’ll let you know about the next step. Postpone the harvest for two days until further notice.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you about one more thing, Ms. Lenore,” Robert said as he walked them out. “But do I still pay the extra guys for those days?”

  “Of course. Please don’t let them go just yet.”

  Her mother stepped out of the building, and Robert gently held Lucia’s arm and whispered, “I’m so glad you’re home,” and gave her a quick hug before letting her go, just like a father might. Because Lucia couldn’t remember her own father, who had left before she was born, she often imagined Robert—good, dependable Robert—as her father. He had a brood of five kids and a wife he clearly adored. To be one of those five k
ids, with a dad who loved her—that’s what Lucia had always wanted. Willow was a powerful woman and a good mother most of the time, and she deserved someone to love her like Robert loved his wife.

  At the very least, Lucia thought her mother could afford a man like him. Lucia knew they were rich, though their wealth never looked like the ostentatious affluence she saw on television, and as a result she never felt uncomfortable using that term to describe her family. Her mother kept them rich, like her mother before her and Great-Grandmother Serena. Who wouldn’t respect mothers like those? And it seemed natural for her mother to deserve a man like Robert with his huge, muscular forearms and buzz cut and smoothly shaven face—a man who opened the door, used his manners, and rescued your car when you ran it off the road; a man who didn’t care if you couldn’t drive very well. But a man like Robert never came for her mother. Lucia thought she’d found one for herself, but now she sat side by side with Willow in the small cab of this old truck, and they were both alone and dealing with a business matter.

  As it always was, so it always would be. Except Lucia didn’t want this to be her life, and her mother couldn’t possibly want it either. Willow also didn’t want a failing memory, but it had struck her. How could any woman control these maladies?

  PART TWO

  A FIXATIVE

  CHAPTER 14

  The Curse Manifests

  HAND HOLDING, CHECK. Popcorn munching, check. Coke sharing, check. Mya went to dinner and a movie, and for Luke that made it all feel official. Mya Lenore had a boyfriend. The theater in town only showed one movie at a time, and the movies were always a year old, sometimes older. Luke insisted on catching the nine P.M. showing of a film that featured one of Zoe Bennett’s first cameos in a summer action movie. Not exactly original, but still, as much as Mya didn’t want to admit it, Zoe and her red hair and plump lips demanded attention.

  Without much effort or practice or many nights spent pining away for something to happen, Zoe had climbed the talent ladder until the people above her had no idea where she came from, including Lenore Incorporated. But Luke was oblivious. He was simply attracted to Zoe Bennett and had no real idea why. Mya had gifted Zoe this opportunity. A half-million-per-fluid-ounce gift, but a gift nonetheless. Mya had seen a spark in Zoe, and it reminded her of herself. That had been her first mistake.