“I would never forget that. This is a quick date—I mean a quick supper.” Mama coughed and smoothed down her dress. “I’ll be home before you know it. I already made the raspberry syrup for our hot chocolate, and I’m ready for a late night of film work.”
Rosie couldn’t talk. There was a painful lump in her throat. She didn’t want Mama to go.
Mama took a deep breath. “Did you say you had something you needed to tell me before we leave?”
Before Rosie could even respond, Mama glanced back toward the family room and Sheriff Parker. Rosie sagged against the door. She knew what that glance meant. Mama didn’t really want to talk to her. She couldn’t wait to get away from Rosie and back to Sheriff Parker.
“I’m going to my room,” Rosie said. She didn’t want to see Sheriff Parker coming out of their family room, acting like he belonged in their home and with her mama.
Mama’s hand reached out for Rosie’s shoulder as she swept past. “I can tell you’re upset. Do you want to talk about it? David can wait.”
David? She was calling him by his first name now?
Rosie jerked away from her. “What’s there to talk about? You’ve got a date, and I have work to do. Seems to me everything is fine.”
Rosie winced at the hurt look on Mama’s face. She wished she could throw her arms around Mama and snuggle in close the way she always did. But how could she when Mama was the one leaving her?
“I’ll be home in an hour,” Mama finally said in a quiet voice.
“Take your time,” Rosie said, heading up the stairs. “I don’t care.”
Rosie threw herself onto her bed. From downstairs, she heard the front door close and the new dead bolt turn. She lifted her head and looked out the window onto the street.
Sheriff Parker opened the door of his truck for Mama, and she smiled up at him. It was as if a cinematographer were backlighting her. Her face actually glowed. Sheriff Parker stared down at her in the same way Cary Grant stared at Katharine Hepburn at the end of The Philadelphia Story, as if he never wanted to stop staring.
It was awful.
Rosie buried her head in her pillow, her thoughts bouncing around like Ping-Pong balls inside her brain. Did this mean Sheriff Parker would stop by their house whenever he felt like it? Would Mama start bailing on their grilled-cheese nights, Saturday-morning movies, and Friday-night cinnamon-sugar popcorn feasts so she could spend time with Sheriff Parker instead of her? Was abandoning her tonight only the beginning?
Rosie lay still on her bed. She should work on the documentary right now, but she couldn’t make herself get the camcorder out. Her life was a bigger mess than any disaster movie, and she had no one to talk to about it. She couldn’t bother Henry; he had his own major problems. Cam was playing in a soccer game, and things were still strange between them anyway. And the one person she could always turn to—Mama—wasn’t there.
Rosie hadn’t moved when Sheriff Parker’s truck pulled back up sixty-five minutes later. Car doors opened, and Mama’s laugh floated up to the window, along with Sheriff Parker’s rumbling voice.
Rosie stood by her bedroom door, waiting for Mama to come up and make everything okay again. She listened for Sheriff Parker’s car engine but heard nothing. What was taking them so long?
Creeping down the stairs, Rosie stood on the bottom step and waited for the door to reopen.
She rubbed the top of the wood banister and watched speckles of dust float to the floor. Taking care not to step on the creaky board by the front door, Rosie tiptoed over to the window and peered out. Underneath the porch light, Mama stood close to Sheriff Parker. Unbelievably, she stepped even closer and tilted her head up. Time suspended for a long, still moment before Sheriff Parker leaned down to meet her with a kiss.
Rosie gasped and leapt back. Her eyes burned, and her chest felt as if an anchor were pressing it down to the river floor. She jerked open the front door. Mama and Sheriff Parker sprang apart. Rosie couldn’t see anything except Mama’s wide eyes beneath the light of the porch. Without saying a word, Rosie fled up the stairs, away from them both.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rosie woke to the sun peeking underneath her eyelids. The softness of sleep faded, and her neck tingled as she remembered. She bolted straight up. This was the day everything changed.
Rosie’s heartbeat hammered inside her ears. Now that the festival had arrived, she didn’t feel ready to meet her father. She couldn’t even think of what to say to him or how to talk to him. And she still didn’t know how to explain what she’d done to Mama. Her plan was a gigantic, Titanic-movie-sized mistake.
Fastening her eyes on Mama’s laptop resting on her desk, Rosie shuddered. After staying up late, she’d finally finished the documentary—or at least, she’d made it the best she could. But it wasn’t enough. She hadn’t proved what caused the Miracles. The documentary was missing the real story she’d wanted to tell, the one she’d told everyone she would tell. Instead, it was mostly a bunch of random interviews with some people who might have gotten lucky once in their lives. Rosie wasn’t a real director; she was a failure. After tonight, everyone was going to know it, including her father.
Mama pushed the door open with a slow creak. Rosie turned over, pretending to sleep. She wasn’t ready to talk about what happened, same as last night when she’d refused to open her door after Mama knocked on it over and over. She’d only unlocked it after Mama gave up and went to her own room.
Rosie cringed, remembering. The image of Mama and Sheriff Parker kissing had run through her head all night like a never-ending horror film. It was a film with horrible lighting and terrible characters and a dreaded leading man who ruined everything.
“We have to talk,” Mama said.
“There’s nothing to say,” Rosie mumbled into her pillow.
“That’s not true. We could talk about the weather or your schoolwork or the newest Steven Spielberg movie or—” Mama stopped and swallowed. “Or we could talk about how you felt when you saw me with Sheriff Parker.”
Rosie shuddered, unable to help herself. “I didn’t feel anything.”
“Then why wouldn’t you talk to me last night?” Mama asked.
Rosie sat up and shrugged.
“That’s not a response,” Mama said.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Rosie’s jaw clenched around each word.
Mama’s face softened. “I know this is uncharted territory for us. I haven’t dated much.”
“Ever,” Rosie corrected. “You haven’t dated ever.”
Mama swallowed. “That’s true. I’ve spent all my time focusing on us, and my job, and that’s what I wanted. But I like Sheriff Parker. He makes me feel different, happy.”
Didn’t Rosie make her happy? Why wasn’t she enough? They were two halves of the same perfect whole … except not anymore.
Rosie swallowed down a mouthful of bile. “I’m sorry, but I don’t like him.”
“You don’t know him,” Mama corrected.
“I know he’s shut down three of my films and yelled at me in front of the entire town for no reason. I know he made things harder for you at work when he moved here. You complained about him all the time too.”
“We worked through all that. He was new in town. He didn’t understand how things worked,” Mama said. “If you’ll give him a chance—”
“I have to get ready for school.”
Mama didn’t move. She fixed Rosie with her tractor-beam stare, the one that made it impossible to look away. When Mama tractor-beamed, Rosie usually confessed everything she’d ever thought about doing. But not today, not now, and definitely not after last night.
The phone rang, cutting short their staring match.
“I’m going to answer that, but I’m coming right back. We don’t—this isn’t—” Mama blew out a breath. “We don’t fight like this, and we’re not going to start now. When I come back, we’re going to talk.” She hurried out of the room.
That was where M
ama was wrong. Rosie couldn’t talk about Sheriff Parker. Ever.
Swinging her legs out of bed and hopping to the floor, Rosie opened her closet door. She stared at the folded jeans and sweaters and the dresses hanging to one side. Should she wear the blue flowered dress or the pink sweater? Was it better to dress up to show how important this day was, or should she look more casual to appear relaxed about meeting her father?
Rosie squeezed her eyes shut. For a moment she let herself imagine Michael racing up to her in the middle of River Bend Park and swinging her around in a joyous hug. She could see the lighting (soft and muted) and hear the music (orchestral swell), except—Rosie exhaled—her imaginings looked like a dream sequence in a movie. In real life, there wasn’t any music playing in the background, the lighting was usually too dark, and no father could sweep a daughter he’d never met into a hug. In fact, there might be no one at all. No Michael, no Mama, just Rosie alone.
Mama burst back into the room, slamming the door against the wall. “You are in so much trouble, young lady.”
Rosie shrank away from Mama’s red face. Electricity crackled off her. “W-what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that was Principal Bradley on the phone,” Mama said.
Rosie’s stomach plummeted; she tried to stay cool. Better to play dumb, admit nothing. Maybe he was calling about the documentary or a school assignment. “What did he want?”
Mama barked out a short, sarcastic laugh. “He wanted to remind me that student attendance is mandatory and ask that in the future I not schedule all your out-of-school appointments for the same week. He mentioned you’d missed classes every morning this week for doctors’ appointments and dentist appointments and eye appointments and something else I can’t even remember right now because I’m about to explode with anger!” Mama slammed a hand on the bed, punctuating her point.
Sweat coated Rosie’s forehead.
“Where were you this week?” Mama yelled.
“I was—I was working on my documentary,” Rosie stuttered, too scared to even come up with an excuse. “I had problems with filming and I didn’t think I could get it done in time unless I missed some school. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re right! I do not understand.” Mama threw up her hands. “You lied to me, and you lied to the school! I’ve always trusted you. Apparently that was my mistake.”
Shame burned in Rosie’s chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You should be.” Mama turned away from Rosie, as if she couldn’t stand the sight of her.
“Did you tell Principal Bradley the truth?” Rosie asked.
“I was too shocked by the call,” Mama said, turning around. “So you made me into a liar too.”
Mama kneaded her temples, looking as if she were about to cry. “I’m so disappointed in you, Rosie.”
Rosie felt sick. How could she have lied to the school? How could she have misled Mama? What sort of person did that? A terrible person, that’s who.
Rosie had gotten in trouble before. Like the time she caused some damage on her film sets or didn’t take the trash out for three days, but not like this. Mama had never looked at Rosie the way she was looking at her now—as if she were disgusted and hurt and sad all at the same time.
“I’m really sorry,” Rosie repeated, tears streaming down her face in a hot river. “I’ll tell Principal Bradley everything after tonight.”
“What do you mean after tonight?” Mama said.
Rosie bit her lip, afraid to speak. “Tonight is the festival.”
Mama was already shaking her head. “You’re not going to the festival.”
“But I have to give my documentary to Mayor Grant! Everyone is going to be there.” My father is going to be there.
“You don’t get it,” Mama said. “You’re grounded. There is no festival, no documentary, no nothing. This is serious, Rosie. I am not going to have you skipping school and lying to adults because you want to finish a movie.”
“But, Mama, please. I can’t miss this.” Rosie’s voice rose almost to a shout.
Mama pressed her lips together until they were white. “I said no, and that’s final. I’ll tell Mayor Grant the documentary isn’t happening. Get dressed. I am taking you to school myself. At least that way I’ll know you went.”
Rosie knew when Mama’s mind couldn’t be changed. This was one of those couldn’t times. She flung herself across the bed, punching her fists into the pillow. Why was this happening? This night was so important, and Mama didn’t get it! She had no idea how awful this punishment really was—not that she cared. Rosie imagined Michael looking at his watch every few minutes and staring at everyone who walked by, wondering where his daughter was. He’d think she’d stood him up. He’d probably never want to see her again, and she would go her entire life without a father.
Rosie breathed in and out until the tears stopped. She sat up. Crying wasn’t going to make anything better. Her only choice was to go to the festival, even if it meant sneaking out.
* * *
Rosie paced back and forth along the tile floor of the empty science lab. The overhead fluorescent lights glared down at the rows of tables. The floor was slick and hard, and the harsh smell of ammonia stung her nose. She glanced at the door. Where were they? She’d slipped a note in Henry’s and Cam’s lockers calling an emergency HenRoCam, and they were both one minute late.
Cam pushed open the door. “Can we make this quick? I’m meeting the crew in the Lounge before lunch.”
Rosie bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood. Make this quick? This was the most important night of her life. “I’m sorry to bother you with my problems.”
Cam sighed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
Henry burst into the room. “Wait until you hear what I found out! I know where the train treasure is. For real this time.”
Rosie stared at him. “Are you kidding?”
Henry shook his head emphatically. “No. I can’t believe it either. It’s not going to be easy, but we can do it.”
Rosie released a snort in frustration. “We do not have time for this. I’m having a major crisis with my life!”
“This is important too,” Henry insisted.
Rosie bit back a scream. Henry only wanted to help his parents. She wanted to help too, but the treasure hunt was so farfetched.
“Henry, we talked about this. We’ll find a way to keep you from moving, but it’s got to be something real. Enough is enough with the train treasure.”
“Wait, why is Henry moving?” Cam asked, looking from one to the other.
“The treasure is real,” Henry said, stiffening.
Rosie crossed her arms. “No, it’s not. This is like us digging in the graveyard for nothing. I know you’re worried about Miss Betty, but this isn’t going to work, and right now I really need your help. My documentary might get canceled.”
“But what about the move?” Cam asked again.
“All you care about is that documentary,” Henry said in a loud voice. “You don’t even listen to me.”
“I’m not going to listen to something that’s completely pointless,” Rosie said in a louder voice. “Especially not today, when I’m supposed to meet my father for the first time ever.”
“Why are you both yelling?” Cam asked.
Henry stepped back, his chin quivering. “You know what? I don’t need your help with the treasure or anything else. I’m going to find it myself.” And with that, he stomped out the door.
Rosie stared after Henry, her heart jackhammering against her chest. How could Henry refuse to help her so he could search for a treasure he’d never find?
Cam peered out the window of the science lab door. “That was a little harsh.”
“He needed to hear it,” Rosie said shortly.
“Is he really moving?” Cam asked. Her brow wrinkled, and she knocked her fist against the table over and over.
“Maybe,” Rosie said. She sighed. “He doesn’t k
now yet.”
“We should go after him,” Cam said.
“We don’t have time right now. I’m grounded, and this is the only chance I have to talk to you before tonight. I need your help sneaking out. I have to get my documentary to Mayor Grant and find my father at the festival, and Mama is going to be there the whole time.” Rosie ran a hand through her hair and pulled a strand taut. Her pulse was racing.
Cam glanced down at her watch and flinched. She then looked at the door, and her shoulders dropped. It was so obvious she was worried about meeting Leila in the Lounge. She couldn’t even give Rosie five minutes of her attention anymore.
Rosie clenched her fists. She’d had it with Cam choosing Leila and ignoring her. Cam knew how important tonight was to Rosie, but she was too caught up with her new popular friends to help.
“You know what? Go,” Rosie said, blood pounding in her ears. “Go see Leila. She’s the only thing you care about anyway.”
“Whoa. What’s your problem?” Cam asked, thrusting her arms onto her hips.
“You. You’re my problem. You’re my best friend, and you’re supposed to help me. But you’re too selfish.” The awful words erupted from Rosie’s mouth, but she didn’t want to take them back. She only wanted to yell more, to spew out everything she was holding inside.
“No, I’m not,” Cam said, her face darkening.
“You were a good friend, but you’ve changed. For the worse.”
“Just because I want to do other things besides hang out with you all the time doesn’t mean I’ve changed for the worse.”
This was the truth Rosie knew was coming. Cam didn’t want her. She wanted Leila and parties with boys and doughnut fund-raisers.
“I don’t care if you hang out with me,” Rosie said, her voice shaking. “I don’t need you.”
“You’re acting so immature. You just yelled at Henry for no reason. He’s going through a hard time right now too. It isn’t all about you,” Cam snapped.
Forever Glimmer Creek Page 15