“You were right,” Rosie said.
Lucy shrugged. “I learned about three-point lighting at film camp.”
“I’m glad you came today,” Rosie said.
Lucy smiled at her. “Me too.”
“Do you think we’ll talk about lighting in film club?” Rosie asked.
“I thought you weren’t doing film club,” Lucy said.
Rosie shrugged. “I changed my mind.”
Cam and Henry weren’t joining film club, but that didn’t mean Rosie shouldn’t do it on her own. If she learned more things like three-point lighting, it would be worth it.
“We should get started. I still have to slot this scene into the documentary,” Rosie said, and it was an important one. This was her last chance to prove the Miracles were real.
“How close are you to a final cut?” Lucy asked.
“I have some editing to do, but I can finish if I stay up late. I have to show it to Mayor Grant in the morning before the festival begins,” Rosie said.
The very thought of the festival sent vibrations down Rosie’s spine. Over the past two days, Rosie had used the excuse of editing to stay in her room and avoid talking too much to Mama. But when Rosie was alone and the only sound was the branches tapping against her window, her mind spun in a thousand different directions, each one scarier than the next. What if her father hated the documentary? What would happen when Mama found out the truth about what she’d done?
Mr. Jack and Miss Lily appeared from behind a row of books and waved her over.
“I’ll be right back,” Rosie said, crossing the room to where they stood. “Are you here to watch the final scene?”
Miss Lily adjusted the sleeves on her silky flowered kimono, and Mr. Jack scuffed his foot against the floor. Neither of them said anything. Rosie got an uneasy tickle in her chest.
“Well, darling, of course we want to support you,” Miss Lily said.
“Of course,” Mr. Jack agreed.
“And we’re so proud of you,” Miss Lily continued.
“Immensely proud,” Mr. Jack agreed again.
“But we do have some … reservations,” Miss Lily said.
Rosie swallowed. “What does that mean?”
“We’ve been thinking about what Miss Matilda said at the town meeting. Maybe she has a point about keeping our Miracles a secret,” Mr. Jack replied.
“I don’t understand.” Rosie stiffened. “I’m not posting the documentary online.”
“But you are trying to explain the Miracles,” Mr. Jack said.
“I mean, I have a few theories about what causes them,” Rosie said. She was still hoping if she went through all the footage tonight, the answer would suddenly become clear.
“Darling, have you ever considered that part of the magic is the mystery? Perhaps the Miracles should stay that way,” Miss Lily said.
“Maybe this documentary isn’t right for the town,” Mr. Jack added.
Rosie opened and closed her mouth. She didn’t know what to say to reassure them. There was nothing wrong with telling the story of the Miracles. But as she looked at their anxious faces, her stomach fluttered. They would never suggest canceling the documentary unless they really thought it could harm Glimmer Creek.
“Are you saying you want me to pull your interviews from the documentary?” Rosie asked in a shaky voice.
“No,” Mr. Jack said. “We wouldn’t ask you to do that.”
Ms. Lily clasped her shoulder. “But we don’t want you to make a mistake you can’t take back.”
Rosie’s face froze in a grimace. They didn’t know what they were asking. She couldn’t cancel the documentary. Her father was coming tomorrow to see it. She would not disappoint him at their very first meeting.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rosie said, slowly backing away. She wanted to escape this entire conversation. “I have to get Dale in position now.”
Dale stood on the far side of the library table, staring down at his phone. He picked it up and shook it. “Dang it. I burned up another battery. I can’t keep a phone working for longer than a month.”
“I guess there are worse things. I heard you can turn on your toaster with the electricity in your hand,” Rosie said.
Dale only shrugged.
“Besides, getting hit by lightning would have killed most people, and you didn’t have a single burn. You’re lucky,” Rosie said.
“It was more than luck,” Dale said simply. “It was a Miracle.”
But was it?
Rosie clasped her hands together, entwining her fingers and pulling them back apart. “I guess—I guess you don’t have an idea about why you got a Miracle, like maybe the creek water healed you or you were wearing a special amulet or made a wish in the Fishing Well?”
“Afraid I can’t help you there. I don’t have a clue,” Dale said.
Rosie’s shoulders slumped. She shouldn’t have even bothered to ask.
Dale chuckled. “I never even thought about wanting one, to tell you the truth. I was just a regular guy looking for a cat in a thunderstorm when that lightning struck me. Nothing special about that.”
“I didn’t know you had a cat,” Rosie said.
“I don’t,” Dale said. “It belonged to my grandma, and I didn’t even like the darn thing.”
“All ready?” Lucy called.
“All ready.” Rosie stepped back to the camcorder and suddenly found herself jittery with nerves. She had to get this scene right. Peering into her lens, she adjusted the angle one last time. “Action.”
Dale reached for the lightbulb Rosie had placed on the library table. He held the bulb gingerly between his thumb and finger. Holding out his other hand, he placed the bottom of the bulb on his outstretched palm. The light inside the bulb flickered. Rosie held her breath. All at once, the light blinked on full-force and glowed with a steady light. It was as bright as if Dale had screwed it into a lamp, but all the power was coming from Dale’s own hand. A collective intake of breath from the few people around the library sent Rosie’s heart cartwheeling in her chest.
Rosie zoomed in on the glowing white of the bulb until it filled the frame. Her insides fizzed as if she had Coca-Cola in her veins. Right then, she knew this scene would be the highlight of the documentary. The visuals alone made it film-worthy; the way Dale turned on an actual lightbulb with his hand … well, that looked utterly magical. It looked like a Miracle. No one could question that.
After clicking off the camera, answering questions from the onlookers, and putting away the now dim lightbulb, Rosie and Lucy sat at a table. They peered into the camera lens and watched Dale over and over.
“I love the extreme close-up of the light,” Lucy said. “It’s so powerful.”
“It is,” Rosie said, delighted. “I’m even thinking of doing a quick freeze-frame like the director Frank Capra did on George Bailey’s face in It’s a Wonderful Life. It’s a great technique for getting the audience’s attention.”
“You’ll definitely have their attention with this scene. Dale is like this guy I watched on YouTube who can hold live electrical wires with his bare hands. He’s got millions of views. Apparently he doesn’t sweat, so his skin can conduct electricity. Dale must have the same skin thing,” Lucy said.
“I’ve never heard of that guy,” Rosie said slowly.
“Really? He’s super popular. You should research him. He can do the same thing Dale did. It was way better seeing it in person though,” Lucy said.
Rosie deflated and looked back down at the camcorder. She’d wanted this scene to make up for not finding the cause of the Miracles. She’d wanted to show actual magic, but all she’d done was prove Dale had the same talent as a random YouTube star and maybe a weird skin condition. It seemed there was a stupid scientific explanation for everything. Rosie didn’t know what to believe anymore. The Miracles were either a random twist of fate … or they weren’t Miracles at all.
Henry was lumbering up the steps as Lucy and Rosie stepped
out from behind the library doors.
“Sorry I’m late. Did you already film Dale?” Henry asked.
“We just finished,” Rosie said in a dejected voice. The documentary was sure to be terrible without proof the Miracles were real. What was she going to do?
“I think the scene turned out amazing,” Lucy said. “But I should get going. I have to help my dad with dinner. Call if you need me, okay?” She hopped down the library steps, turning to wave once before disappearing down the street.
“I guess we should head over to Cam’s game,” Rosie said with a sigh. The camcorder strap weighed heavy on her shoulder.
“Sure.” Henry’s chin dipped low. He wavered for a second as if he might sink into the library steps.
Rosie peered down at his face. “Are you all right?”
“Just a little tired,” Henry said, shrugging and not looking up.
Silence expanded to fill the small space around them. Outside, the light grayed as the day prepared for night. The breeze whipped through Rosie’s jacket, and she shivered.
“Henry, what’s the matter?” Rosie asked, lowering her camcorder to the ground and turning to fully face him.
Henry kicked the steps, still looking down. He shook his head. But Rosie was tired of not getting answers, and she wasn’t letting his silence take over this time.
“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me. If I have to follow you home tonight and bang on your door and howl at your window, I’ll do it,” Rosie said in a dramatic voice.
“Mama will call the police if you start howling,” Henry said, cracking a tiny smile.
“Then I guess you better start talking.”
Henry hesitated. “It’s Mama.”
“Has she—has she gotten sicker?” Rosie asked, a trickle of fear winding its way down her spine as she remembered Henry’s worry from the other night: that his parents wouldn’t tell him the truth about Miss Betty’s illness.
Henry shook his head. “No, it’s not that. But … my parents have been up at night talking about her medical bills. I—I overheard them because I can’t really sleep anymore.” He stared down at the clouds of dust that rose and fell with every kick of his tennis shoes. “I guess the insurance company isn’t paying for everything, and there’s this thing called balance billing that means they’re responsible for a lot of the bills, and—” He stopped and swallowed. “They owe a lot of money. We might have to sell our house and move in with my aunt and uncle in Richmond until they can pay everything off.”
“But Richmond is two hours away!” Rosie said. “You’ll have to switch schools. We’ll never see each other!”
“I know,” Henry said. He plopped down on the steps and cradled his head in his hands. “I’ll be all alone.”
Rosie swallowed as she stared down at Henry’s defeated form. He couldn’t move away. He just couldn’t.
She sat down beside him, the stone steps cutting into the back of her legs. “You won’t be alone. I’m always here. Cam too.”
Henry remained silent.
“Why didn’t you tell us this at the graveyard?” Rosie asked.
“I was hoping it wouldn’t happen, but my parents sounded more serious recently. They even called a real estate agent about selling our house. Mama was crying about having to leave Glimmer Creek.”
“Is this why you aren’t entering the science fair?”
“What’s the point if I’m not going to be here to present? I thought if I found the train treasure, we could pay off the medical bills and we wouldn’t have to move.” Henry’s voice was barely above a whisper.
His voice pricked Rosie’s heart in a thousand places. She wanted to wrap Henry up tight in a blanket, the way Mama always did for her when she was sick, until he forgot all about moving and medical bills and cancer.
“I wish you’d told me sooner,” Rosie said, guilt pinging inside as she thought about Henry worrying over this all by himself. “I should have asked more questions about how Miss Betty was doing and how you were doing.”
“You couldn’t have known about this,” Henry said.
“But I know now, and we’ll find another way to keep you here,” Rosie said, rubbing her eyes and trying to think. “We can—we can hold a town-wide fund-raiser. I’ll organize the whole thing. We’ll sell cookies or—or flowers or copies of my best films. I can even make another documentary to raise awareness.”
“I don’t think my parents would go for that,” Henry said. “Mama says it’s impolite to talk about money. She won’t want this spread all over town.”
“Okay … then you can all move in with me and Mama. We have plenty of space,” Rosie said.
“No, you don’t. Your house has two bedrooms.” Henry smiled sadly. “There’s no way to fix this. I heard my parents say our only choice now is to rely on family.”
“But I’m your family,” Rosie said, putting her arm around Henry.
Henry leaned against her. The shadow of the library loomed over them. Glimmer Creek glinted in between the buildings on Magnolia Street. The moody gray of the water rippled along, always moving, always changing, regardless of what was going on around it.
Rosie couldn’t come up with another thing to say. Unlike the movies, there were no perfect words on a script for this moment. Instead, she sat beside Henry while the street got dark and hoped everything would turn out okay.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rosie trudged home, barely seeing anything. After what Henry told her, they’d skipped the game. She exhaled the cold air in short, shallow puffs. When she thought of a Glimmer Creek without Henry, she could hardly breathe.
A dark-gray truck was parked in front of Rosie’s house when she got home. She stopped and stared, not recognizing the car. Mama never had company on a weeknight.
Rosie opened the front door and called, “I’m home.”
Mama hurried into the foyer from the family room. She was wearing a black dress Rosie had never seen before, shiny heels, and pink lipstick. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face, making her eyes sparkle like bits of brown sugar. She looked like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
This wasn’t normal. None of this—the truck, the dress, the lipstick—was normal.
“What’s going on?” Rosie asked, her gaze darting around the room.
Mama’s hands fluttered along her sides as she looked down at her dress. “I thought you were going to Cam’s game tonight with Henry.”
“I changed my mind. I need to talk to you about something important,” Rosie said. “But—are you going somewhere?”
Mama shifted her weight to one heel and gave Rosie a strained smile. “I … um … I thought you’d get home later … after.”
“After what?” Rosie asked, not smiling back.
That’s when she heard the couch springs creaking from the other room and a heavy shoe fall on the ground. Rosie stiffened. Suddenly, she knew. The truck belonged to Sheriff Parker, and he was here to pick Mama up … for a date.
“It’s a funny story,” Mama said, scuffing her heel along the faded striped rug. “I ran into Sheriff Parker today on my way home from work and he mentioned he’d never been to Sunsets Restaurant. Not once. Can you believe that? It’s the best restaurant in Glimmer Creek. So I said, ‘You have to try it. Sadie Dellarose is the best chef in the country, in my opinion.’ ”
Rosie wondered if Mama planned to breathe anytime soon.
“Sheriff Parker then said, ‘I sure would like to try it, but I can’t go to a place like that by myself.’ And I said, ‘You’re right—you can’t, because most of the tables are two-tops and two-top tables need two people at them. Plus, if you’re alone, you may look like a sad, lonely weirdo, and no one likes to look like a sad, lonely weirdo.’ So then he said, ‘How about we go over there for supper tonight? I heard they’re serving rockfish.’ And I said okay. Mostly to help him avoid looking like a sad, lonely weirdo.”
The room tilted on its side. “You’re going on a—a date.”
“I wouldn’t call it a date, more of a social intervention.”
“It’s a date,” Rosie said. She could feel her elbows pressing into her sides and her face heating up. Sheriff Parker was probably sitting on Rosie’s side of the couch right now, flattening her back cushion.
Mama took a step toward Rosie and stopped. “It’s supper, okay? It’s not a big deal. A big deal would be if I were going out with someone like Cary Grant.”
“He’s dead,” Rosie said.
“That’s why it would be a big deal,” Mama replied, trying out another smile before turning serious. “I’m sorry to spring this on you. It came up so last minute. I thought you were going to Cam’s game and I’d get home before you.”
“I can’t believe this.” Rosie’s eye twitched. “Were you planning to even tell me?”
“Of course,” Mama said. “Yes. As soon as you got home.”
Rosie didn’t know if she believed her. Mama had a last-minute date to a fancy restaurant that just so happened to occur when Rosie had already made plans? The whole story sounded suspicious.
“I don’t suppose you’ve eaten dinner?” Mama asked tentatively. “I could throw something together real quick. How about a sandwich?” She made a move toward the kitchen.
“I’m not even hungry.” Rosie actually felt sick to her stomach.
Mama stopped short and bit her lip. “What if I call Miss Lily to come over and keep you company?”
“I don’t need a babysitter. I’m twelve,” Rosie said. And Miss Lily was the last person she wanted to see after what she’d said at the library.
“I know you don’t need a babysitter. I just thought it might be nice.”
“Well, it’s not,” Rosie said, “unless you’re planning on staying out until midnight.”
“That’s impossible in Glimmer Creek,” Mama said, laughing lightly. “Even our all-night convenience store closes at nine o’clock.”
“Did you forget you were supposed to help with my documentary tonight?” Rosie’s heart was shriveling up inside her chest. She needed more than help with the documentary. She needed to talk about Henry and how wrong everything was right now.
Forever Glimmer Creek Page 14