Second Chance Rose, page 5
Emotions rushed through me: sadness for what could’ve been, sorrow for what my family did, this strong, unexpected connection to the landscape—and then there was Rose. I wasn’t sure how to label what I felt seeing her again. How could I put words to the way my pulse kicked up when she was near, the exhilaration that skittered through my veins when she looked at me? She made me feel alive in a way I’d forgotten to be.
And I was angry, too. The rage I’d felt at my parents for uprooting my life came flooding back. The move had been nothing short of disastrous. Within six months of leaving, Mom and Dad had moved into separate houses. My mom worked as many overtime shifts at the hospital as she could. Dad couldn’t keep a job. And I’d withdrawn more and more, distancing myself from them. The week I finished high school, I’d signed up for the military, and within a month I’d moved to the Naval Amphibious Base in Coronado, across the bay from San Diego, and never looked back. Until now.
A cry for help and the sound of shouting outside drew my attention. I rushed back to the rows of farm stands to see a crowd gathered near Rose’s tent. I jogged over, pushing through the stiffness in my leg.
“I called 911!” a teenage boy said, holding up his phone.
“Give her some water,” yelled another bystander.
“Is there a doctor here?” shouted a woman’s voice. Shoving through the onlookers, I pinpointed its source: Rose, who sat on her knees, an older woman’s head on her lap. “Ida?” she said, her thumbs gently gliding over the woman’s cheeks. “Can you hear me?”
CHAPTER 5
I knelt down beside Rose, ignoring the pain that fired through my knee as it hit the grass. “Here, let’s get her legs lifted up. You, toss me your bag,” I told a bystander with a large carry bag. I propped it under the woman’s knees, lifting them up a foot, then loosened her collar. “Did you see her go down?” I asked Rose. “Did she hit her head?” I recognized the woman immediately as Ida Pease.
“I—I don’t think so, no,” Rose said. “She fell sort of sideways, off her stool. Do you think she’s okay? Is it… Is it a stroke?” Her eyes were wide with fright. “Where’s that ambulance? Come on, Ida. Can you hear me now? It’s me. Rose. Ida?”
Ida’s eyelids fluttered for a second before they opened. She looked first to Rose, then around at all the faces peering down at her. She scrambled to get up, but I held her back.
“Ida? You’re okay. Looks like you fainted. Just stay back and rest awhile—help is on the way.”
Confusion creased her forehead.
“I’m August, ma’am. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine, I think,” Ida croaked. She cleared her throat. “Yes, I’m right as rain. Better than ever actually. Help me up, would you? Who’s at my stall? I have to get back—”
“Let’s not worry about that for now,” Rose said, her hands on Ida’s shoulders. “Let’s just sit here for a bit.” She stole a glance at the Big Oak Farm stand, though. A few bystanders had gathered around her produce.
I searched the crowd, my eyes stopping on Sam and Noah a few feet away. “Boys? Can I get a hand?”
I stood and spoke to them quietly. On a mission the two separated and moved to Rose’s and Ida’s tables. Each took a spot behind one of them and, after orienting themselves to their stations, took over operations as though they belonged there. I knelt again next to Ida and Rose.
Ida clasped my hand. “Thank you, dear. I suppose I could take a few moments.” Her eyes searched my face. “I know you, don’t I?” I nodded. She seemed satisfied with that.
When I glanced up at Rose, she was staring back at me. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
The people around us parted to make way for the EMTs, who laid a stretcher next to Ida and began asking her questions. They waved to Rose and me, indicating they could take it from here. We backed away to give them space, Rose’s attention lingering on her friend.
She looked worriedly again at her table, where a smiling Noah seemed to be enjoying himself chatting with customers.
I touched her shoulder. “Don’t worry about those two. They got it.”
“But what about—”
I interrupted her. “Nah. Like I said, they’ve got it. I think you could use a break, don’t you?” Rose’s fingers were clasped tightly in front of her, her knuckles white. “How about that coffee?”
I sensed she wanted to protest, but instead she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. “What the hell. Sure.”
I reached for her hand, but when she jumped at my touch, I dropped it immediately. The tips of my ears burned with embarrassment.
“Sorry. Coffee’s on me. Let’s go.” I pointed to the Grind House truck.
We set off, strolling through the busy market in silence, jittery energy making my insides float. “So how—” I started at the same time she said, “Quite a way to—”
We looked at each other and laughed. It felt good. The sudden lightness between us calmed my nerves.
“Quite a way to get me to coffee, after all,” she finished.
“Yah, well, I was determined, wasn’t I?”
“I’ll say.” She walked with her arms folded in front of her but let them fall when she almost tripped over an electrical cable that ran behind the Grind House truck. Wait, was she nervous, too?
“Hi, Ginger,” she said when we reached the window of the old VW bus Ginger had converted. “August, remember Ginger Kidd?”
“We’ve already gotten reacquainted,” Ginger said. I smiled. “How are you, Auggie? We missed you this morning.” After the shock of seeing me that first morning at Grind House, Ginger and I had been chatting on my daily coffee runs. Not today, though; I’d grabbed an espresso from the dining room at the Driftwood, where Fern, too, seemed to be over the initial surprise at my presence here. Neither had mentioned my parents yet, but I knew it was coming.
“Just fine, Ginger, just fine. Cool truck.” I ordered and paid for two iced Americanos, and we moved to the side to wait for them.
“I hope Ida’s okay,” Rose said, fiddling with the neckline of her T-shirt.
“She will be.” I’d been in enough emergency situations to know when things were going to be fine. “You were great back there, by the way.”
“No, you were great. How’d you know what to do? So calm and methodical.”
When Ginger called my name, I stepped forward and grabbed two Grind House–branded cups filled with ice and rich, brown coffee. Rose sipped hers as we wound back through the market stalls toward her table. “You learn a thing or two as the son of a nurse,” I said. “And a thing or two more when you join the FBI.”
She stopped walking. “What? That can’t be. You were going to…” Her voice trailed off when she remembered my plans were thwarted the moment my family left Orcas.
Suddenly unable to meet her gaze, I took in our surroundings. We’d stopped in front of a tarot card reader’s stall, where a table and a few chairs were set up in front. “Can we sit?”
Rose blinked in the direction of her farm stand, shaking her head.
“It’ll be okay for a few more minutes. Please?”
She watched as I pulled out a chair. “Oh, all right. But only for a minute.” She blew out a breath and took the seat across from me.
I adjusted my position on the folding chair so I could straighten my leg. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Where I went.”
Rose sat, willing now, it seemed, to hear me out. Maybe it was the shock of Ida’s incident; whatever the reason, I needed to take advantage of it.
“I had no idea it was coming. I didn’t,” I insisted when she raised her eyebrows. “My mom woke me early that morning, must have been after a night shift at the hospital. It was still dark. Told me to pack a bag and be ready to go in a half hour. I kept asking where we were going and why, but every time I did she just shook her head. My dad was away for the weekend, at a trade show in Seattle. So I guess I assumed we were joining him for a few days.” I stared at the ground, shame burning the pit of my stomach. “I had no idea it was forever.”
How quickly her expression changed, from curious to furious in an instant. Her cheeks flushed red. “You should have called me.” She said it quietly, but it wasn’t a good quiet. It was the kind of quiet that was worse than a shout.
I scrambled to keep explaining. “Mom kept insisting it was no big deal, that we’d be back in a week. I meant to call you when we got to Seattle. But then…”
“Then?” Rose lips were pinched in a tight line.
“Then… I just couldn’t. Once I figured out what he did, how my dad hurt so many people here, I—” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I was too ashamed, Rose. Too embarrassed to face anyone. Even you.” The humiliation gnawing at my chest now was the same one I’d carried with me for ten years, rearing up any time I felt comfortable. I leaned forward in my chair, sweat making the armpits of my T-shirt wet. Coffee had been a bad idea. The caffeine zinged through my veins like electricity through a wire, turning my stomach in knots.
“That’s ridiculous. No one would have blamed you. Your dad, yes. But you were a kid, August.” Her voice thickened with frustration, and her foot tapped against the table leg. “I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it!” Her raised voice brought attention from passersby. “Ten years went by. Ten,” she said at a lower volume. “At least be honest with me. You couldn’t handle a grieving girlfriend anymore, could you? Oh, I bet I was a real drag to be around back then. How could you do that, when I needed you most? No.” She pulled her hand off the table when I reached for it. Did she really believe that’s why I hadn’t contacted her? Because I couldn’t handle her grief? All the times I’d played this scenario out in my head, that thought had never been part of it. “You can’t—”
“Hi, Rose!” A tall woman with long black hair approached the table, oblivious to the emotional confrontation unfolding in front of her. A scruffy black dog followed and leaped onto Rose’s lap, tail wagging. Rose looked like she wanted nothing more than to shoo the woman away, but the anger in her expression melted a little at the ball of black fur licking her face.
“Zoe.” Rose nodded, her lips pinched again.
Without asking, the woman sat down and placed a stack of tarot cards on the table, her bracelets clanging. She brushed a long lock of hair—the same black as the dog’s—away from her face, although there seemed to be more of it in her eyes after than there was before. “Well, you’re new and handsome,” she said to me. She held out a hand. “I’m Zoe. That’s Coco.” She pointed to the dog in Rose’s lap. “I heard we were expecting some movie stars around here. I just didn’t expect Clint Eastwood’s son!” She batted her eyes.
Her flirting made it even more obvious this woman had no idea of the tension simmering between me and Rose. What did she want?
Oh god. Trust Zoe to make everything awkward. August blushed, which made the scar on his cheek stand out against his flushed skin, and I made the connection. That scar, his limp—he must have been injured on duty! I felt a pang of regret about the strip I’d just torn off him but quickly brushed it aside. It didn’t change the fundamentals: I didn’t trust him, and he needed to know that.
“August Quinn, ma’am.” He shook Zoe’s hand politely, although she’d presented him with a hand to kiss rather than one to shake.
“August is here for the Shore Thing shoot,” I said. Maybe Zoe would be satisfied with that information and walk away. “But he’s not an actor. Wait, are you?” I realized I had no idea what he did.
“Why don’t we let Zoe tell us?”
Zoe ran her fingers through another tangle in her hair. “That’s not really the kind of thing I can read with my cards. But I do like a challenge.” She sat still as a statue for half a minute, then closed her eyes and kept them closed for so long August and I exchanged a glance, eyebrows raised. We waited while she inhaled a long breath, held it, then blew it out through her nose before she opened her eyes again.
She faced August. “Ask me a question.”
His expression turned nervous, glancing left and right, as if trying to decide how honest he should be. What did he want to know?
“Am I lovable?”
That hit like a sucker punch to the heart. Is that what he really thought of himself? That he wasn’t lovable? I might not trust or believe him, but I knew deep down someone else could. I thought about what Bluebell had said about forgiveness, how it would free me of my anger. Maybe August needed to forgive himself, too. I tried to catch his eyes, but he avoided looking at me.
Zoe nodded. Gathering another deep breath, she shuffled the deck of cards, split the pile in two, and moved them from one hand to the other. Once she was satisfied, she fanned the cards out with both hands and surveyed them quickly before choosing one, which she placed facedown on the table. She put the deck to the side.
“Why that one?” August asked.
“It’s the one that felt right.” She turned it right side up. On the card was a giant wheel with symbols inside. The corners of the card each depicted a winged creature: a bull, an eagle, a lion, an angel. A snake slithered down the left side of the wheel. “The Wheel of Fortune,” Zoe said. “This card reminds us the wheel is always turning. Life is in a constant state of change.” She laid her hand on it and focused on August, lines framing her eyes as she squinted. Then she nodded. “Good luck and good fortune will make their way back to you. This card is telling you to cherish the blissful moments in life and make the most of them while they’re in reach—because they could be gone in a flash.”
I inhaled sharply. If anyone at this table knew how quickly your whole life could change, how much you might long for things once they were gone, it was me. But didn’t this card pertain to every person, all the time? Zoe hadn’t actually answered August’s question.
“Good advice, for sure. But what does that have to do with my question?”
She held up a finger. “I’m getting there. Tell me, are you open to love?”
He let out a pfft sound. “Of course. Who isn’t?”
“No, I mean really open. The Wheel of Fortune is also the wheel of karma. You know the expression ‘what goes around comes around’? Think of the energy you put out. If you’re kind and loving to others, they’ll be kind and loving to you. Be nasty and mean, and you’ll get nasty and mean back. So if you want love in abundance, make sure you’re sending out positive juju. What you send into the universe comes back to you.” She lifted her hand from the table, bracelets jangling, and held it in midair in front of her chest. “Your life is about to turn in a more positive direction if you’re willing to grow,” she said, eyes closed. “Keep your mind open to the signs of the universe. The magic of fate is behind you. Miracles are happening.”
August’s eyebrows shot high on his forehead as Zoe’s explanation turned mystical.
“You like to be in control.” She opened her eyes again and focused on August. He nodded, which she took as encouragement to continue. “Sometimes this card is a shock to people like you. By its very nature it suggests factors outside your control are influencing your life. It’s like the universe is dishing up whatever it pleases, which can be very unnerving. No matter which way the wheel turns, though, it’s impossible to change it. You need to accept what is happening and adapt.” She waved her arms high in the air, looking up at the sky, bracelets clanging. “Go with the flow! This is an invitation to make a significant change in your life. The more you tune into your intuition and allow the universe to guide you, the better the outcome will be.”
Although what she said sounded like it could hit a few notes of truth for August, I just didn’t get the whole karma thing. I doubted he did, either, but he smiled politely anyway.
“Interesting, thank you.” He shifted on his seat, bending then straightening his leg.
Zoe patted his hand, sensing his reticence. “I know it’s a lot right now, but believe me, the Wheel of Fortune is part of your life. Remember—be open to what comes your way.” Satisfied with the message she’d delivered, she turned to me.
“Well, Miss Rose, can I answer a question for you today?”
“This stuff is nonsense. No offense, Zoe.” Zoe’s lips curled up at the sides. We’d had this conversation before. I had nothing against her personally; I just wasn’t one for make-believe. At least that’s what I told her. If I let myself examine that feeling, I knew I’d find something deeper: fear, perhaps, that I might hear something I didn’t want to know. “I should be getting back to my table, anyway.” I looked at my watch. “There’s no way your friend is selling anyone on the finer points of striped beets,” I told August. “Come on, let’s—”
“Aw, be fair, Ro.” Ro. No one had called me that in ten years. “If I can ask a question, so can you. Can’t she, Coco?” He petted the scruffy little dog, still perched on my knee.
I could’ve sworn Zoe’s eyes twinkled. She’d been waiting for this moment. “Oh, all right,” I said. At least she’ll stop pestering me every time I see her. “If it means I can get back to my stall, fine. Lay it on me.”
She shuffled her cards again. “Ask me anything. Got boy troubles? Boring old farm questions? A mystery I can solve?”
“I’ve got a mystery for you, all right. Will our little island—and the farm—survive this film shoot that’s filled our town with strangers?” I looked pointedly at August. He’d been here less than a week, and already it felt like a tornado had swirled my life upside down.
“Hmm. I wondered that myself. Let’s see.” Again she went through the routine of closing her eyes for a long time, almost too long once again, inhaling a deep breath, holding it, then letting it out through her nose, all the while continuing the shuffle. Again she fanned the cards out in her hands and made a selection that seemed to make sense only to her.
She placed it facedown on the table, then laid down her deck of cards. She turned the card over.
“Death.”
The word reverberated through my whole body. I rubbed my face, looking anywhere but at the card itself. “How dare you!” I burst. “My grandfather is healthier than you are. Just who do you think—”
