“No,” Rosie said, her eye twitching.
“What for, then?” Mama asked, sharpening in on Rosie.
“It’s a—a secret.” Rosie said the first thing that came into her head.
Mama smiled, but her eyes narrowed. “Good thing I love secrets.”
The bookshelves loomed over Rosie, drawing closer and closer. Everything she’d said sounded suspicious. All she wanted to do was announce that she’d e-mailed her father for the first time ever. But that would only make Mama upset, maybe even angry. Mama might even e-mail Michael and tell him not to come.
Rosie shifted on her heels, wishing she could fast-forward through the next thirty seconds. “I wanted to surprise you. I was researching documentaries because I’m working on a new film about the Miracles, and Mayor Grant said he would show it at the festival.”
The lie slithered off her tongue and wiggled in the air between them.
“Mayor Grant is going to show your documentary at the festival in front of the entire town?” Mama asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Mama said excitedly as she crossed the small study and wrapped her arms around Rosie, squeezing tight. “That’s so exciting!”
Rosie pulled away and stared at the deep scratch across one corner of the desk and the velvety black wick of the candle beside the computer. She stared anywhere but at Mama’s face.
“It’s not a big deal,” Rosie mumbled.
“This is a really big deal,” Mama said, beaming at her. “What can I do to help? Do you need costumes, or someone to hold up the lighting, or script revisions, or a camera operator, or a cinematographer? I’m your girl, or grip, or whatever the right movie term is.”
“I think I’ve got it covered,” Rosie said.
Lying to Mama felt worse than the time she’d cracked her new camera lens in fifth grade. She usually told Mama everything, even when she got a D on her math quiz or when Alison Jones made fun of her haircut. Lying to Mama didn’t come natural, and holding back the true reason for why she was filming the documentary felt like the biggest lie of all time.
“You’re the perfect person for this film. You know the Miracles as well as anyone in Glimmer Creek. I remember you made a whole list of them one summer,” Mama said.
“You helped by telling me about them,” Rosie said softly.
“That’s true. Maybe you should dedicate the entire film to me. I’d like a large screen with just my name on it to start off the documentary,” Mama teased.
“I don’t think so.” Rosie forced a smile.
“At least think about it,” Mama said. “We’ll need potato-chip sundaes tonight.”
Potato-chip sundaes were Mama and Rosie’s celebratory dessert. It was vanilla ice cream, caramel sauce, and crushed potato chips, and it was delicious. But Rosie didn’t deserve a potato-chip sundae, not after what she’d done.
“Darlings, I’ve arrived, and I’ve brought truffles.” Miss Lily’s voice carried from the front door. She appeared in the study doorway in a sequined jacket and silver heels. “You are in for a true culinary treat.”
“What have you got?” Mama asked, gingerly peering inside the paper bag.
“This package of white truffles was delivered yesterday. It’s from an old suitor of mine who lives in France.”
Mama raised her eyebrows. “Miss Lily, do you realize you are holding thousands of dollars’ worth of mushrooms? Those truffles are worth a fortune.”
“Thousands of dollars?” Miss Lily sniffed the truffles. “Good Lord, Pierre really should not have sent this through the postal service. This is what happens when you’re exceedingly beautiful,” Miss Lily said to Rosie. “Men send extravagant gifts. You’ll see for yourself when you get older.”
“Rosie is going to become an Oscar-winning director and send herself extravagant gifts.” Mama double winked at Rosie.
A sharp knife of guilt stabbed Rosie in the rib cage. She swallowed hard and made herself wink back.
“Now, Miss Lily, let’s see about cleaning these,” Mama said. “I’m starving.”
Rosie moved to follow them. Her feet felt heavy, as if weights were attached to the bottom of her shoes. On her way out of the room, she spied Mama’s cell phone on one of the bookshelves. Rosie grabbed it, knowing Mama would be racing around the house searching for it in an hour, having forgotten where she’d left it again.
Except right as she lifted the phone, it lit up with an incoming text. Rosie glanced down and couldn’t help reading: Enjoyed lunch today. I’m trying out that recipe tonight. Thanks for the suggestion.
The text was from Sheriff Parker.
Rosie read the words again. Her heart skipped several beats. Mama and Sheriff Parker had eaten lunch together today?
Gripping the cell phone tighter, Rosie watched the screen blacken. She couldn’t help remembering how Mama seemed too serious this morning when Sheriff Parker came by, and she’d defended him after he’d left. Meanwhile, Sheriff Parker had smiled and acted all friendly for the first time ever. The whole conversation was weird. Even weirder was what Mr. Jack had said about their—their spark.
Rosie’s heart rate sped up, but she made herself breathe. Stop panicking. Loosening her grip, she carefully dropped the cell phone back on the shelf. She knew Mama better than anyone. After all, Sheriff Parker’s text was friendly, but it wasn’t too friendly. The more Rosie thought about it, the clearer it was. It was obviously a work lunch. Mama probably had lunch with lots of people Rosie didn’t know about. There was no need to overreact.
Still, as Rosie left the room, she couldn’t decide whether the queasy feeling in her stomach was because of the e-mail to her father or the text from Sheriff Parker. It was possible she wasn’t the only Flynn girl keeping secrets, and she didn’t like it one bit.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rosie stirred her oatmeal and watched the beige blobs on her spoon plop back into the bowl. She’d checked her e-mail as soon as she got up and after her shower and before breakfast. It had been sixteen hours and twenty-two minutes since she’d sent the e-mail to her father, and he still hadn’t replied. Of course, he was really busy filming, and she had to give him time. He’d write back.
Unless—Rosie sat straight up—what if Michael had changed his e-mail address again and never got her e-mail? That would explain why he hadn’t written her back. Maybe she should find his number and call him instead—
“Rosie!”
“Huh?” Rosie looked up from her bowl, hearing Mama’s voice for the first time.
“I’ve been asking you for the last thirty seconds if you wanted more orange juice,” Mama said.
“I’m fine.”
“Suit yourself.” Mama bent down behind the counter and came back up holding a bag. Her smile was big and bright. “Guess what? I was walking past Clementine’s yesterday and they had those striped hair ribbons you like. I bought you a few. Want me to tie one in now?”
“Oh, um, thanks.”
Rosie cringed inside as Mama tied one of the pink and red ribbons in her hair. She didn’t want to hurt Mama’s feelings by telling her that no one wore ribbons in middle school. Even as Rosie felt Mama pulling on the bow at the back of her head, she knew she’d take it out and bury it in the bottom of her dresser after Mama left for work.
“There,” Mama said, standing back. “You look cute.”
“Thanks.” Rosie went back to staring at her oatmeal. She didn’t want to look cute.
Mama bustled around the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher and humming to herself. She’d even made two jokes before her first cup of coffee. For some reason, she was in an uncommonly good mood, which made it the perfect time to ask about Michael.
Rosie took a deep breath. “Mama?”
“Yes, sugar?”
“I had an idea.”
“What is that?”
“I thought maybe, now that I’m twelve, maybe now is a good time for me … ” Rosie’s voice halted. Just say it. She took a
nother deep breath. “Maybe now is a good time for me to call my father.”
“Oh.” Mama put down the glass she was holding and stared at Rosie. “What brought this on?”
“Nothing particular,” Rosie said. Only that Michael is currently two hours away and I invited him to Glimmer Creek. If Mama didn’t want Rosie to call Michael, she definitely wouldn’t want her to see him.
Mama’s good mood seemed to evaporate right into the cinnamon-scented air. Her mouth pinched in along the edges, and she took a deep breath. “I know it’s hard not having your father around, and I understand why you want to call him, but this—this isn’t the right time.” She tapped her fingers along the counter, avoiding Rosie’s eyes. “When you get older, we can talk about contacting him. I promise.”
Rosie bit her lip. She wanted to change the subject and wipe that expression off Mama’s face, to bring back her humming and joking, to even let Mama tie another pink and red ribbon in her hair, but she couldn’t. Not this time.
“I think it is the right time,” Rosie said in a soft voice.
Mama closed her eyes briefly, then crossed the kitchen to the table and sat down beside Rosie. “Sugar, you are, without a doubt, the most amazing twelve-year-old in the world.”
“You’re not at all biased,” Rosie said with a small smile.
“Not at all.” Mama’s smile flickered before extinguishing entirely. “But Michael, well, he isn’t ready for a relationship yet. He has a lot of problems to work through that have nothing to do with you.”
Rosie flinched. Mama’s words were a thousand yellow jackets stinging her heart. She didn’t want a father who needed to work through problems. She wanted a father who watched movies with her on Friday nights and made pancakes on Saturday mornings and showed up at her movie premiere. She wanted a real father.
“I know it feels terrible to hear this,” Mama said, the little catch in her voice pulling the words deeper down into Rosie. “I feel terrible saying it, and I wish things were different. I really do.”
“What if he’s changed?” Rosie’s face was hot.
“He hasn’t,” Mama said quietly.
“I still want to try to call him.”
“I’m sorry, but no,” Mama said. “You need to trust me.”
“I do,” Rosie said, swallowing. “But we could at least talk about this.”
“We are talking about it, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to agree. I’m sorry, Rosie,” Mama added again, but now it sounded like an afterthought.
“Isn’t this my decision too?” Rosie’s shoulders tensed against the back of the chair.
“Not this time,” Mama said.
“If it’s because you don’t like him—”
“I like him fine. My feelings have nothing to do with this. Believe me. I’m doing what’s best for you.” Mama stood and moved over to the dishwasher as if their entire discussion were over.
But it wasn’t over. Not even close.
Mama couldn’t just change the subject. This was Rosie’s father, and he was important to her. Mama might hate Michael for leaving her, but that wasn’t a good enough reason to keep him and Rosie apart. Rosie was older now and could make her own decisions about Michael. How could Mama not see that?
Mama didn’t know how hard it was not to have a father. She couldn’t see the pit in Rosie’s stomach when someone mentioned Father’s Day or know how empty she felt when Alison Jones asked if she’d visit her father in Hollywood for spring break. Mama didn’t understand any of those things.
Rosie’s anger bubbled up to the surface and boiled over into her words. “Maybe the reason my father hasn’t come to see me is because he doesn’t want to see you.”
Rosie sucked in a breath, shocked by what she’d said. Mama froze for several seconds, finally turning away, but not before Rosie saw the tears shimmering in her eyes. Instantly, all of Rosie’s fury drained away. How could she have said something so mean? She wished she could rewind the last five minutes.
Staring down at the table, Rosie’s eyes burned. She wanted to say she was sorry and didn’t mean a word of it. She wanted to say she didn’t even care about calling Michael, though it wasn’t true. But despite Rosie wanting to say something, the right something, she was unable to say anything at all. Her words were locked up deep inside.
“I should go to work,” Mama said after several silent seconds.
“Mama—”
“It’s okay, Rosie. We’ll talk about it later.” Mama left the room, quiet as a whisper.
Rosie sat alone at the table, her throat closed up. She knew they wouldn’t talk about it later because they never talked about Michael Weatherton later. They barely talked about him at all. Staring down at the kitchen table, Rosie traced the scratches in the wood, noticing them for the first time. She sat quiet, unmoving, while Mama’s car pulled out of the driveway.
All Rosie wanted was the chance to meet her father and for Mama to help her do it. Mama and Rosie were supposed to think the same way and to want the same things. Except right now, they weren’t the same at all. They were broken right down the middle, and Rosie ached at the split.
* * *
Rosie’s stomach was still twisted up into knots as she walked to school beside Cam and Henry. The sky was a flinty gray, and clouds covered the sun like a fresh bruise. A frosty breeze crept into her jacket, but Rosie couldn’t tell if it was the early-morning air or the cold inside that left her chilled.
“Some species of cicadas come out of hibernation every seventeen years, but this isn’t one of their life cycle years. It’s such a shame because they look like a big swarm of cockroaches when they come out of the ground. That’s something I’d like to see,” Henry said.
“Henry, that’s disgusting,” Cam complained.
“You only think that because of our culture. We’re taught to think of bugs as disgusting. But other societies see them as a delicacy. In Brazil, lots of people eat bugs,” Henry said.
“You know, we could use bugs for our annual haunted house at Rosie’s this year. It’s already October and we’ve barely started planning. What if we have the neighborhood kids eat pretend bugs? We’ll blindfold them and tell them spaghetti noodles are worms,” Cam said, rubbing her hands together in anticipation.
“I don’t know,” Henry said, frowning. “We don’t want to really scare them.”
“That’s the point of a haunted house. I’m definitely dressing up like a vampire again to freak out my little sisters. Come on, Rosie, I know you must have thought about some new scare tactics by now. You always have the best ideas for this.” Cam turned to Rosie, drawing her into the conversation.
Rosie smiled a little. “Well, I was thinking we could have old horror movies playing on the TV in a dark room and make them watch the scariest parts. I could try to do some lighting special effects too so it looks like monsters are there, but I’ll need to rent a strobe light.”
“The lighting sounds complicated, but I love the monster idea,” Cam said. “We should get that monster costume back out. Henry can wear it.”
“I think I’ll just be the guide again,” Henry mumbled.
“You’re boring,” Cam said, tossing her stocking hat at Henry.
The hat slipped through Henry’s fingers, and he nearly tripped off the curb trying to catch it. He scooped it up off the ground and tossed it back to Cam, who caught it one-handed.
“Why’d you have to throw it? You know I have poor hand-eye coordination,” Henry said.
Cam gave Rosie a sideways look. Her lips were pressed together the way they did when she was trying not to laugh. Meanwhile, Henry turned his backpack around and pulled out an enormous book on bugs. He began pointing to a chapter on nutritional value while trying to walk in a straight line unsuccessfully. Cam kept tossing the hat up while asking Henry if they should serve real bug sandwiches instead.
Rosie couldn’t help laughing. She noticed a patch of sunlight pushing its way through a hole in the clouds, and her stomach
unclenched.
“Okay, I’m calling an official HenRoCam to order,” Rosie said.
“Subject?” Cam asked.
Rosie stopped walking and took a deep breath. “Actually, I’ve got some huge news. I convinced Mayor Grant to let me film a documentary on the town Miracles, and he’s going to show it at the Festival of the Fish on a big movie screen. It should run after the boat parade and before the fireworks, during the prime hours of the festival.”
Henry slammed his book closed, giving her his full attention. “That’s awesome! This is way bigger than your YouTube videos.”
“I’ll need your help with filming. I’ve got a list of scenes already in mind. I’ll send you both the schedule.” Rosie hesitated. “But that’s not all. I found out my father is filming a movie in Richmond, and well, I e-mailed him yesterday and invited him to the premiere.”
“Your father said he’s coming to Glimmer Creek?” Cam gasped.
“I haven’t heard back from him yet, but I bet he e-mails me later today. I’m not that worried about it. My whole plan is coming together like it was meant to be.” Rosie gave them both a tentative smile and tried not to think about her empty in-box. Her dad was busy with filming last night. That was why he hadn’t e-mailed her back, probably.
Cam stopped throwing her hat. Henry looked down at his hands. No one moved. It was as if someone hit pause on their entire conversation.
“What’s wrong?” Rosie asked. A creeping sensation came over her like ants marching up her arm.
“Did you tell Miss Caroline about this?” Henry asked.
“I told her about the documentary part,” Rosie mumbled.
Cam and Henry looked at each other before Cam said, “You need to tell her about inviting your dad, too.”
“I don’t think you should keep something like this from her,” Henry said in a worried voice.
Rosie didn’t need Henry and Cam to make her feel bad about lying to Mama. Even before this morning’s disastrous breakfast, Rosie had woken up at two o’clock in the morning with the urge to run into Mama’s room and confess everything like Terry Malloy did in the famous crime drama On the Waterfront. Although then she’d remembered how Terry got beat up and lost his girlfriend, so the confession hadn’t worked out so well for him.
Forever Glimmer Creek Page 6