Luanne Rice

by Summer's Child

  The women chuckled, and Lily glanced at the telephone—it still hadn’t rung. She heard herself explaining how to block the work—get it back into a perfect square after all the pulling exerted on the canvas. Wash it, roll it in a towel to absorb the excess water, work it into shape using a T square, and pin it to the ironing board using stainless steel pins.

  Cindy paid for the equine soap, while Marlena browsed through Lily’s hand-painted needlework canvases. Lily picked up the phone; she’d make a quick call, just to make sure Rose was okay. But then Marlena leaned over.

  “This is wonderful,” Marlena said, holding up a canvas depicting a house by the sea, with window boxes cascading with petunias and ivy, and a sailboat in the distance. “Are there more of this series?”

  “I sold out,” Lily said.

  “You do land-office business,” Cindy said. “And well deserved. You’re the only real needlework place within fifty miles of this godforsaken place, and you do the circle besides… . I swear I’d have left my husband three times over if I didn’t have the Nanouk Girls to talk to.”

  “And I got over mine leaving me for the same reason, talking to all of you,” Marlena said, placing the last of Lily’s “Home Sweet Home” needlepoint canvases on the counter.

  “Are you coming on the cruise?” Lily asked, laughing as she rang up the purchase.

  “For Rose? And with everything we have to celebrate? You betcha!”

  “We wouldn’t miss it,” Cindy said.

  “See you Saturday, then,” Lily said. “At the dock. We’ve chartered the Tecumseh II—the best boat in the fleet.”

  “Nothing but the best for us Nanouks! See you then!”

  The minute they left, Lily reached for the phone and dialed. She got the machine. Rose’s recorded voice came on: Hello, we’re not home right now… . As soon as she heard the beep, Lily said, “Rose, are you there? Pick up?” But no one replied.

  Footsteps creaked on the front porch. Lily pulled back the white lace curtain expecting to see Dr. Liam Neill, the oceanographer who kept his office across the hall. He was descended from the sea captain, Tecumseh Neill, the house’s original owner. Instead of fishing or whaling like the rest of his family, he spent his life researching fish—sharks, specifically. Moody, elusive, the man spent more time with sharks than people—what more needed to be said?

  But it was just the FedEx man, dropping something off at Liam’s office.

  Lily hung up the phone. She sat and picked up her own needlework—the habit had always soothed her—and took a few stitches. Rose might not have heard the phone. She could be outside, feeding her ducks. Or possibly she had gone to someone’s house and forgotten to call. There were so many normal explanations… .

  When the door to her store opened, she turned with a start. It was Jessica. Rose’s age but so much taller, standing in the doorway in her blue plaid pants and yellow shirt, her mouth just slightly open, beckoning to Lily.

  “What is it, Jessica?” Lily asked, already on her feet. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Rose, something’s wrong with Rose, she can’t walk, her fingers are blue, and she had to sit down!”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s in the square, by the stone fisherman,” Jessica said, and she started to cry, but Lily couldn’t stay to comfort her as she ran out of her store as fast as she could.

  Rose sat on the wall, leaning against the fisherman statue. The effort to hold her head up was too much, so she rested her forehead on her knees. Her chest felt tight, and every breath made her lungs burn, as if she were drawing air through a straw. Even before Jessica’s footsteps faded, Rose heard someone big running over, and staring down at the ground, she could tell by the big heavy boots that it wasn’t her mother.

  “Rose, your mother’s on the way. Your friend just ran to get her.”

  It was the oceanographer, Dr. Neill; his boots were glittery with fish scales. The sunlight made them look like bits of broken crystal, all bright fire and rainbows. He crouched down, and Rose felt his hand on the back of her head. “You’re safe, your mother’s on the way. Just relax and try to breathe, okay, sweetheart?”

  Rose nodded and opened her mouth, taking in air. She knew the moment would pass, and she would be fine; she always was, but it was alarming when it happened. Her mind raced ahead to what would happen next. She pictured doctors, Boston, the ER. Yes, her day in the ER was coming again, it was. She wasn’t even nine yet, but she could almost write her own medical chart.

  Dr. Neill touched her forehead. She closed her eyes. His hand felt cool. Now she felt his hand move down to her wrist; she knew he was taking her pulse. Maybe he was scared by what he felt. Rose knew that some people were. She looked up at him. People were scared of him too. They had that in common. He wasn’t smiling, but then, this wasn’t something to smile about.

  Once a teacher had pushed her down so hard, making her lie down even though all Rose needed to do was wait where she was. Another time a girl’s mother had panicked and driven her all the way to the clinic in Telford, no matter that Rose told her she shouldn’t go there. The oceanographer didn’t do any of those things. He seemed very calm, as if he knew that some things couldn’t be fixed so easily.

  He sat on his heels and held her hand.

  She stayed calm. Their eyes stared into each other as she breathed. She didn’t even want to blink, but just keep looking into his deep blue eyes. Sharks swam in water as dark as his eyes, but she wasn’t scared. He blinked once, twice, but he didn’t smile.

  “Don’t go away,” she said.

  “I never would,” he said.

  “I want my mommy.”

  “She’s on the way. Just another minute …”

  “I want Nanny.”

  “We all love Nanny,” Liam said. “And she’s coming. She gave me a ring this morning, to let me know she’s on the way.”

  “For my birthday?”

  Dr. Neill gave a start, and his eyes flashed at the mention of her birthday. His family owned the boats, and in spite of the fact that the party was going to be all girls, Rose wanted him to be aboard. She knew that he didn’t usually run the whale-watch boats, but maybe he could make an exception. She wanted to ask him, but she felt too weak.

  “Yes, Rose. For your birthday. Just keep your head down. That’s my girl. Just breathe.”

  There were so many things Rose wanted to say; she wanted to invite him to her party, wanted to ask him if it hurt when he lost his arm, wanted to tell him she was sorry he had had to go to the hospital and have surgeries, the way she did. But she couldn’t do it… .

  Now her mother came—Rose could feel her presence even before she heard or saw her. Her mother came across the square and suddenly was right there—Rose knew before she said a word. The oceanographer kept holding her hand. When he let go, he gave a slight squeeze. Rose squeezed back.

  “I’m here, Rose,” her mother said.

  Rose felt her arms around her shoulders and knew, in a different way, that everything was going to be fine.

  “We walked home,” Rose said. Her mother held her so lightly, not wanting to press against her heart or lungs. Rose concentrated on breathing, getting oxygen. She stared at Dr. Neill’s prosthetic arm, his hand—when he was young, he had had a hook, and the town kids had called him Captain Hook. The mean nickname had stuck. Now she looked down at her own hands. Her slightly clubbed fingertips were still blue, but less so than they had been a few minutes earlier. She was breathing better now and started to push herself up.

  “Why don’t you stay there for another minute?” Dr. Neill suggested.

  “Thank you for helping her,” Rose’s mother said.

  “No problem. I’m glad I was here.”

  “You knew what to do… .”

  He didn’t reply. Rose glanced up and saw him looking at her mother—their eyes met for a second, and she saw her mother blush. Maybe because she thought she’d said something stupid. Of course he knew what to do; he’d kno
wn Rose all her life. Rose stood up and saw tiny stars.

  “I’m better now,” Rose said, ignoring the pricks of light.

  “Give it another minute,” her mother said, but Rose shook her head vehemently.

  “I’m fine—and we don’t need to go to Boston today. We can wait till we’re supposed to.”

  “You missed the bus?” her mother asked, ignoring Rose’s mention of Boston.

  Rose didn’t even have to nod. Her mother knew her so well.

  “You could have called me.”

  Closing her eyes, Rose thought of Jessica. Her new friend didn’t know everything, hadn’t watched Rose miss every tryout, every team meet, every soccer game. She didn’t know that Rose got driven door-to-door—unlike the other kids, who were dropped off at convenient intersections or waypoints.

  “You walked the whole way here? From school?”

  “Yes,” Rose said. Her breath was coming back. Dr. Neill had been standing right there, but suddenly he backed away—as if he didn’t want to embarrass Rose further by hearing her mother scold her. Rose looked up, but he had already turned his back. “Mom,” she said.

  “It’s okay, Rose.”

  “I can still have my party, right?”

  “Rose’s birthday,” Dr. Neill said. “That’s a red-letter day if ever there was one.”

  “Thank you, Liam,” her mother murmured, with a funny, bright look in her eyes.

  “No problem. Take care, Rose.”

  “You too,” she said, and watched him go. White clouds moved across the blue summer sky, and seagulls circled above the docks. When she looked down, she saw some rainbow fish scales lying on the ground. Very carefully, she put them in her pocket with the first stone she and Jessica had been kicking. He had called her birthday “a red-letter day.”

  “A man of few words,” her mother said, the way she made comments about people she didn’t like much or didn’t understand.

  Rose’s shoulder leaned firmly against the stone fisherman. While her mother stared after the oceanographer, Rose lifted her head and looked straight up at the statue’s face. He wore a sou’wester and held a lantern aloft, seeming to peer out to sea. Engraved into the base were the names of all the town fishermen lost at sea—this was their monument.

  The stone fisherman looked over all the missing, no matter where they were now. He was cut from granite, just like the blue rock cliffs above the town. Rose looked down at her blue fingertips; what if she turned blue all over, cold as stone? What would happen to her mother if she did?

  “It’s nearly the end of the day,” her mother said. “I’ll close up early.”

  Rose nodded. She watched as the oceanographer walked over to his office. He had a few words with Jessica, who was standing on the steps. Then he went inside. Rose’s stomach flipped as Jessica came toward her. Their friendship had just changed; no matter what, once someone saw, everything was different.

  “Are you okay?” Jessica asked.

  “I’m fine,” Rose said. “It was no big deal.”

  “You looked a little like a ghost—pure white.”

  “I’m better now.”

  “That’s good,” Jessica said.

  “Would you like a ride home, Jessica?” Rose’s mother asked.

  Jessica hesitated, seeming to think about it. Rose felt her color rise—was their friendship over before it really started? Was Jessica embarrassed to be with her? Or did it have something to do with Jessica’s secrets, the fact that her real name might not really be Jessica Taylor? Could she really be named after that singer, James Taylor? Maybe Jessica’s mother liked love songs, like Rose.

  “Well, I’m not really supposed to get into cars without asking my mother, but in this case I think it would be okay.”

  “We’ll call your mother first—how’s that?” Rose’s mother asked.

  And they did.

  Chapter 3

  Driving Jessica home, Lily was actually doing several things at once. Keeping her eye on the narrow road, keeping her eye on Rose, and trying to assess how upset Jessica was by what had happened. Lily glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled.

  “Thank you for coming to get me,” Lily said. “For thinking so fast.”

  “She didn’t seem to be feeling too good,” Jessica said.

  “Well, she wasn’t. But she’s fine now.”

  “What happened?”

  Lily glanced down at Rose. This was the moment Rose always dreaded. Because the town was so small, most people had known her for her whole life. They knew and loved her—and, the thing Rose disliked the most, compensated for her. Lily knew she could answer right now—say something vague and dismissive. Or she could take the direct approach and tell Jessica the truth. But she had learned over time to leave it to Rose. What Rose wanted her friend to know, she would tell.

  “I had a spell,” Rose said.

  “You’re under a spell?” Jessica asked, not understanding.

  They drove past a few summer cottages and the old mill. The road was shadowed by steeply rising cliffs and tall spruce trees. Lily glanced down at her daughter—her wavy brown hair and gold-flecked green eyes. Lily had to hold herself back from explaining. She watched Rose formulate the words, knowing that once she said them, her friendship with Jessica would change, however slightly.

  “Yes,” Rose said. “An evil wizard put it on me.”

  Lily glanced down, taken by surprise.

  “He turned your hands blue?”

  “Yes. And sometimes makes me dizzy and weak. He attacked my heart.”

  “Rose …” Lily began.

  “Is he real?” Jessica asked, sounding nervous. “Will he put a spell on me? It’s Captain Hook, isn’t it? I saw him standing there, just before you had to sit down!”

  “No, it’s not him. He’s good,” Rose said. “It’s someone else. He lives far up the fjord, in a cave in the tallest cliffs, surrounded by straggly old pine trees. Sometimes he turns into a fish hawk. You hear him cawing in the early morning, gliding over the bay in search of sweet little things to eat.”

  “Rose Malone,” Lily said. Her daughter looked up defiantly. She knew that Lily wasn’t about to call her a liar in front of her friend; on the other hand, she had to know that Lily couldn’t allow Jessica, newly moved to this remote and foreboding part of Canada, to think that there was an evil wizard attacking little girls. The road twisted up the crevasse behind the village, onto a flat stretch overlooking the bay’s wide blue expanse.

  “I live here,” Jessica announced as they pulled up in front of a small white house.

  “Jessica, there’s not really an evil wizard,” Lily said.

  “There is,” Rose insisted. “And he puts slivers in people’s hearts so no one will ever love them. The heart is where love lives.”

  “Rose, everyone loves you,” Lily said, smiling in spite of herself. “So you’d better make up a better story than that.”

  “Okay, then. He put a spell on my heart that makes all kinds of crazy things happen. He gave me a heart condition.”

  “But,” Jessica said, frowning, “my grandmother has a heart condition—you’re too young for that!”

  “Even babies can have them. I did as soon as I was born.”

  “Will I get it?” Jessica asked, the frown deepening.

  Now Lily knew she had to step in. “No, you won’t,” she said. “Rose was born with a heart defect—you can’t catch it or anything. She’s had all the best treatment, and she’s doing great.”

  “I’m just not supposed to walk home from school,” Rose said. “Or do things like that, till I have the last surgery. I’m having it this summer, and afterwards I’m going to be really fine. I’ll be able to run and everything.”

  Just then the front door of her house opened, and a woman stepped onto the porch. She hung back, watching for Jessica to get out of the car. Lily waved. The woman seemed to hesitate—not sure whether to walk over and say hello or not. Lily saw her marshal herself—literally draw herself
up taller—and she came toward the car.

  Jessica opened the door to get out. Lily felt Rose’s anxiety as she watched her friend go. This was the big moment, Lily knew. What would Jessica make of what had happened? Lily wished she could soothe her daughter, assure her that it didn’t matter, that Jessica would like her no matter what.

  “Thanks for giving Jess a ride home,” the woman said.

  “It’s our pleasure,” Lily said. “I’m Lily Malone, by the way—Rose’s mom.”

  “I’m Marisa Taylor—Jessica’s mom.”

  The women smiled, acknowledging that they knew there was much more to both their stories. Something mischievous flashed in Marisa’s eyes, and Lily thought she saw a Nanouk Girl in the making. Jessica stood very close to her mother’s side, staring through the car window at Rose.

  “You like to garden,” Lily said. “Your window boxes are beautiful.” She gestured at them—pink, white, blue—geraniums, petunias, blue moon verbena, and cascading tendrils of ivy—stark against the whitewashed cottage. Some old, thick-stemmed red roses, carefully pruned and tied to a trellis by the door, were just starting to bloom, tongues of fire in the afternoon sun.

  “Thanks,” Marisa said. “Yes, I do enjoy it.”

  “I like your roses,” Rose said from the back seat.

  “They’re my favorite flower,” Marisa said. “They have been, ever since I was a little girl. I love your name.”

  “Thank you.” Rose smiled.

  “I thought this would be a different growing season from what I’m used to. But seriously, my flowers are blooming as if we were in New England—or even farther south.”

  “You’ll find that we’re on an earlier schedule than the rest of Nova Scotia,” Lily said. “The Annapolis Current runs just offshore, keeping us much warmer. It’s amazing, but that’s why your roses are already in bloom. We’re at least three weeks ahead of Ingonish, and even Halifax.”

  “That explains it,” Marisa said. Then, crouching down to look through the window, she added, “When Jessica called to say you’d be giving her a ride home, she said that something had happened to Rose. Is everything okay?”