“I’m telling you. It’s the one.”
The dinner was two weeks away and if she didn’t find a dress soon she was going to run out of time.
She took a step back and looked at herself again. Wendy was right. This was the dress.
“I’ll take it,” Rosie said.
“How could you not?” The saleswoman smiled. “It fits like it was made for you.”
“Now shoes,” Wendy insisted.
“I think I have the perfect pair. Would you like to try them on?” Pamela asked.
Rosie told the woman her shoe size and she disappeared behind a curtain.
“I shouldn’t be this excited about a dinner,” Wendy said conversationally. “I mean, really, it’s just a dinner but I love a good dress up.”
“I’ve never done anything like this.” She considered the process so far. “It’s been kind of fun.”
“Kind of?” Wendy scoffed. “Finding the dress is half the fun. I think I spent months finding the perfect prom dresses. This was too fast.”
“Months? Really?”
“Uh, yeah,” Wendy said plainly. “If I ever get married, I better give myself a good year to find the right dress. Conservatively.”
Rosie turned around to look at her friend. “If you ever get married? You don’t think you will?”
Wendy shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “We’ll see. I have yet to find Mr. Not a Complete Douchenozzle.”
“Oh dear,” Pamela muttered as she returned.
“Sorry,” Wendy winced.
The woman waved her off. “Plenty of fish in the sea.”
Rosie held back a laugh as Wendy rolled her eyes at the placation. She inspected the silver strappy sandals on top of a sky high heel.
Wendy must have seen the terrified look on her face.
“No?”
“They’re so high,” she murmured.
“Okay, so something not too tall.” Wendy eyed them from her seat. “They’re not you anyway. I think I know a place.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
After her shopping excursion, Wendy brought her back to the camper. It’d been a while since she’d spent any length of time there and she wanted to make sure everything was okay. She texted Max to let him know where she was, then she took out her supplies and started cleaning. From top to bottom she cleaned the bathroom and the living room. She changed the sheets, even though they weren’t dirty. She dusted her books and refolded some of her clothes. It felt good to be in her own space. She enjoyed staying at Max’s but it felt good being with her own things again.
They’d talked with Jay about Max being the one blocking her abilities and he agreed, it was a possibility. At Jay’s recommendation, they often worked on trying to connect with each other on a deeper level, attempting to make Max more comfortable with letting Rosie protect herself. They tried connecting without speaking or touching, pushing thoughts at each other, sending feelings across a metaphysical divide.
So far, it was a no go. Things were just as quiet as they’d been before and they’re connection was nothing more than a fuzzy feeling she felt bumping against her once in a while.
It was an interesting theory, that Max blanketed her without knowing he was doing it. In some ways, it annoyed her. She’d been taking care of herself for so long it was almost insulting. On the other hand, in the exact same vein, the idea that Max wanted to protect her so thoroughly was sweet and kind of flattering.
She’d been circling a terrifying thought for weeks and the more days she and Max spent together, the clearer it became.
She was falling for him.
Scratch that. She had fallen for him.
Not that she was going to tell him. There was still too much he didn’t know about her. She still, no matter how many times she tried to tell herself otherwise, didn’t quite trust he was going to be there when she needed him. She couldn’t see a future where he found out who and what she really was and stuck around.
But, she’d at least talked herself into enjoying it while it lasted. Someday, she’d move on from Jacob’s Beach, but she’d finally knowing what falling in love felt like.
She was finishing some of the laundry when a car drove up and a flash of headlights lit the camper. Rosie tilted her head, surprised to get a flash Max’s thoughts. He was trying to calculate space on the farm, not for next year’s garden, but the following year. Was he distracted enough that the thought slipped through or was he working on letting up a little?
“Knock, knock?” He rapped on the camper door as he opened it.
“Come in,” she called.
He stepped in and smiled at her. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
“How’d the shopping go?” He took the few steps into the tiny bedroom area and sat on the bed next to her laundry piles.
“Pretty good, I think.” She added a folded shirt to the pile. “You’re sister’s a good shopping buddy.”
“She’s got enough experience.”
“She’s got good taste,” Rosie corrected. “It was nice to have someone with such a good eye with me.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he laughed. “Find something to wear?”
She tried not to smile from ear to ear. She loved the dress and couldn’t wait, not just to wear it, but for Max to see her in it.
“Ah, that’s a yes,” he deduced. “Let’s see it.”
“No way!” She laughed. “You’ll have to wait.”
“Nope. I’m looking now.”
He didn’t even have to get off the bed to check her closet. She wasn’t worried, the dress was at the store being pressed.
“Good luck.” She lifted a shoulder.
His face fell. “It’s not here?”
“No. Nice try though.” She handed him a stack of shirts. “Make yourself useful and put this on the shelf.”
With a sigh, he did as she asked.
“You know,” he said casually looking over his shoulder. “We could save you the trouble of doing this and just bring this stuff to my house.”
Without missing a beat, she said, “You put laundry away at your house too, don’t you?”
He sent her dry look. “You know what I meant.”
“Yes.”
When she didn’t elaborate, he stood and began rummaging around her tiny closet. He casually threw a box on the bed in front of her, knocking the lid off.
Even he looked surprised.
“Holy Shit, Rosie, I thought it was a couple hundred bucks. You can’t keep cash like that lying around.”
She hastily leaned over, put the cover back on and moved it further away from him.
“It wasn’t lying around!” She argued. “You went looking for it.”
“Because I knew it was there,” he shot back. “You can’t keep thousands of dollars of cash around. People don’t actually keep shoeboxes full of money under their beds these days.”
She did her best to go back to folding laundry and not look guilty. Max watched, cataloging her every move.
“It’s not a big deal,” she insisted.
“You can’t look me in the eye right now,” he pointed out, studying her. After a second his eyes widened. “Oh my…” He jumped off the bed and dropped to the floor.
“Max,” she shouted. “Stop it.” She tried to pull him up by the back of his shirt but it was too late.
He knelt in front of her, another small box in his hand.
“Babe,” he wrapped his other hand around the back of her knee. “This is dangerous for you to have here. If someone out there thought you had a bunch of cash in here,” he let the thought trail off.
“It’s not like people look at me and immediately think, money. Why would anyone ever think I have cash here?”
“I don’t think that part really matters. It’s not safe to have this here unlocked and easy to find.”
He wasn’t necessarily wrong but neither was she. Jacob’s beach wasn’t exactly a crime haven and she lived so far outside
of town, it would be hard for someone to sneak up on her. On the other hand, if someone did sneak up on her, it would take a long time for the cops to show up if she called them.
“You need to put this in a bank,” he said.
She held out her hand and waited. When he finally gave her the box back she silently placed it with the other one on the bed and went back to folding laundry. Max stood and squeezed himself in front of her and sat down.
On her laundry.
“Talk to me,” he said, looking up at her.
“You’re sitting on my clean clothes.”
“I’ll rewash them.” He put his hands on her hips and gave a squeeze.
“I don’t want to rewash them.”
“Talk to me, Rosie.”
“I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know,” he admitted. “Try it anyway.”
“Why? What’s the big deal.”
“Because that’s what people who care about each other do. They talk to each other. Do you care about me?”
She let out a huff. “Yes.”
“I care about you too. Talk to me.”
“Will you tell me later why you’re worried about corn?”
His face stretched into a small smile. “You’re reading me again.”
She nodded.
“I’ll bore you to death with all the details of sixty-day corn and making corn silage. I promise.” He pulled her closer until she had no choice but to put her knees on the bed and straddle his lap. “Now, why won’t you put it in the bank?”
She wondered how he couldn’t see what was so obvious. “Max, I’m barely scraping by with identity I have. Why would I push it and put it under bank scrutiny? They’d catch on in a heartbeat.”
He thought on that for a second. “Can’t you just use your real name? Just at the bank? Or even in a safe at my house?”
“Even if I wanted to, I don’t have an ID with that name, don’t have my social security number. And really, I don’t want to put my money in a bank or anywhere else. I want it close.”
“Where you can take it and run?” His voice was flat.
Yes, so she could take it and run.
“Just say it,” he urged, anger written all over his face. “Just put it out there. Don’t lie to me or lead me on, just say it like is. You’re always going to have one foot out the door, aren’t you?”
She shrugged. She wasn’t going to apologize for who and what she was. She wasn’t living on the run but she wasn’t a permanent fixture either.
“Probably,” she admitted.
“Do you really think after all these years someone’s going to come looking for you? And what? Throw you in some institution. It’s been years, Rosie. You even said it yourself, you’re like a drop in the barrel to them.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” She tried to get off his lap but he wouldn’t let her go. “Let me up.”
“I care about you, Rosie,” he told her.
“Then let me go.”
“I can’t. I care too goddamn much to let you go. Stay with me. Talk to me. Tell me whatever it is that has you so stuck in the past.”
“I’m not stuck in the past.” She still struggled to stand and he finally let her go. “I’m trying to move on with my life.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“Yes, I am,” she shouted. “I had to start a whole new life. I had to change my name and leave my home and I did it anyway. What does it tell you that someone would prefer to buy the identity of a dead person and live with the fear of being found out every single day, rather than be who they were?”
“You can-”
“I don’t want to.” She flung out her arms. “Don’t you see that. I don’t want to be her. I want her dead and buried and gone forever. I hate her. Her life was shit. Absolute and complete shit.”
“Babe,” his voice softened and he held out a hand for her.
“You have no idea who she was or what she had to do to get out of that life. Just let her stay gone.”
“But she’s not gone. She’s right here.”
No,” she said, dropping her hands down in defeat. He’d never see. He’d never understand. “Never mind.”
“Talk to me,” he said again. “This is the most honest you’ve ever been with me. This is the most you’ve ever said. If you’re honesty comes with a fight or yelling, I don’t care. I’d rather hear that than nothing at all.”
“You want to fight?” She asked confused.
“No, not really. But I want to hear you be you. I’d rather you yell out your truth than walk away. So, let’s hear it. Her life was shit. You think living on the run or hiding out all the time is better?”
“You mean, would I rather be here with you fighting or living in a place I hated surrounded by people that hated me? Hmm, tough call.”
“I’m sure no one hated you.”
“The last time I saw my foster dad,” she shook her head, unable to continue.
“The one who said he’d keep you,” Max remembered.
She wasn’t surprised he did.
“He walked away, okay.” Her voice was quiet. No matter how many times she replayed the scene in her head, Butch turning his back on her still made her insides quiver, like they were shriveling and dying. “He literally, turned his back on me and walked away.”
“I won’t do that, you know,” he told her. “Whatever happened that made him do that to you, won’t happen to me.”
“That’s not the point, Max. I just don’t want to be her. I want to leave her in the past and forget all about her. Just let me be Rosie.”
“I wish it was easier for you to see that Rosie’s future is clouded that other girl’s past. Every day, you’re living both lives whether you see it or not. If you could figure out a way to be both, I think you’d be a lot happier.”
“I wish it was easier for you to see some things are just better left alone.”
They were at a stalemate.
Max leaned forward, far enough that he could wrap his hands around her butt and pulled her forward.
“Come back now,” he said softly as he pulled her back to straddle him.
Rosie put her hands down on his shoulders, settling herself on his lap. She watched him carefully, wondering if he was still mad at her or if she was supposed to still be mad at him.
Max reached a hand up and rubbed the spot on her forehead, right between her eyes.
“No worries,” he told her.
“You’re not mad at me?”
He let out a soft laugh. “Not mad.”
“Are we still fighting?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay,” she said, confusion swamping her.
“Do you want me to be mad?”
“No,” she argued. “Is that how this works? It just goes away.”
“The fight?” His brow furrowed as he leaned back to look at her. When she nodded he watched her for another moment. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”
“Not really, no.”
“It’s still there, but you said what you needed to say and so did I. I’m good for now. You?”
“I think so.”
“Then it goes away for now. When you want to talk about it again, or I do, we will.”
She wondered if it would end up being a vicious cycle of them having the same fight over and over again.
“What if-”
“We cross the bridge when we get to it,” he interrupted. “For now, let’s talk about something else.”
“Like corn?” She asked.
Max smiled, his big, joyful smile. “Yeah, like corn.”
This time, when Rosie found herself at the water it wasn’t because she’d slogged through mud to get there, she’d just appeared. It gave her more confidence that she was dreaming.
She saw the same Smith’s Cove she’d seen numerous times over the past few months. There were no cars or swimmers, it was
as deserted as ever. Yet, Rosie knew she wasn’t alone.
“Where are you?” She called.
The wind swirled, warm and gentle against her face. The menace she’d felt on previous, real life visits was gone. At least for now.
“Thank you for coming back.”
Rosie turned and Helene stood in the same place Rosie always saw her, visible but transparent.
“I wish you’d come to me like this instead of the other way.”
“I can’t. When they’re protecting you, it’s all I can do to even get a word to you.”
“You can get to me now.” Rosie concluded.
“Now. They’re letting me. Barely.”
“They?”
“It’s Jack you must find. He needs you now.”
“Needs me?” Rosie asked confused. “For what?”
“You must make him see.”
“That you didn’t leave him?”
“Never.”
Helene blasted the wind in Rosie’s direction. “Okay, no more of that.” The heavy breeze slowed to a whisper. “If I find your remains he’ll know you never left. I can do that.” Even though she absolutely, no questions asked, did not want to.
“He must know. You must find him.” Rosie felt the relief coming off the spirit in waves.
Helene’s figure turned darker then, more opaque than before.
“I must go now but you need to know,” she looked over her shoulder as if someone might be standing behind her.
Rosie’s hair stood on end.
“You aren’t alone anymore.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. And her bony finger extended, pointing to something behind Rosie. “She’s coming for you.”
She turned to look, feeling someone at her back.
Rosie startled awake with a gasp and jolted up.
“She’s coming for me,” Rosie whispered in dark. “She’s coming.”
Not expecting it, she screamed when Max put his hand on her back.
“It’s just me.” His voice was soft as he put his arms around her. “It’s just me.”
She nodded. “I’m okay.”
“Okay,” he said simply.
He held her, sitting up in bed for a few minutes, letting the cadence of their breathing calm her back down.
“That’s new,” he said.
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