CHAPTER 18 - Rosie

" R osie? Hello? Earth to Rosie?"

I turn towards Lowyn and smile. "What?"

"Did you hear me? I'll be pickin' next week. I asked if you're still good to mind the store while I'm gone."

"Oh, sure. Yes." I close my eyes and shake my head a little to clear it, and when I open them again Lowyn is smirkin' at me. "What?" I ask her.

"You."

"Me what?"

She tsks her tongue. "You're swoonin'. This is about Amon, I gather?"

Despite my best efforts to rein in my happiness, it simply can't be done. So I smile even bigger. "I'm fallin' for him, Lowyn. Like off a fuckin' cliff fallin' for him. Do you know what he did yesterday?"

"I can't even begin to imagine. Tell me. I'm dying for details."

"He came to my printshop in Bishop and walked me home to my cottage." I'm sitting at the front counter on a stool, and just saying this out loud makes my whole body weak. So I prop my elbow up on the glass counter and slide my chin into my palm with a sigh.

"To the cottage, you say?" Lowyn raises an eyebrow at me. "The one where you take off your Bishop clothes and change into Disciple ones? That cottage?"

"The very same." I'm smirking now too.

"And?" Lowyn is rolling her hand at me to keep going. "Tell me what happened!"

"He happened, that's what happened."

Lowyn comes over to the counter and stands in front of me with both hands flat on the glass. "Rosie Harlow. I want details! This is the first time you've ever dated a man I knew. And boy, talk about goin' for the golden ring! Amon Parrish is kind of a dream, isn't he?"

I click my tongue. "Let me tell you, what he did to me yesterday felt pretty dreamy. Let's just say that his mouth is very talented."

Lowyn giggles. "Is he dirty?"

"Dirty how?"

She shrugs up one shoulder. "You know. Like… does he talk dirty to you and get you all down on your knees and stuff?"

"Well"—I aim a pointed look at her—"I was on my knees for a time. But only after his face was between my legs."

"Keep going."

"But… he didn't talk dirty to me. He said really sweet things. And then we did the ultra-slow fuck."

"Were you on top?"

I grin. "I was."

"Yeah," Lowyn sighs. "The ultra-slow is fun on top. But he doesn't talk dirty to you?"

"Dirty how, Lowyn? I mean, clearly you have something in mind, so give me an example."

"You know, like…" Her eyes roll up like she's thinking. "Like… asking you questions. ‘Do you want me to do this or do you want me to do that?'"

"Well, don't leave out the good parts, Low. What did he want you to do? Because obviously, we are talking about Collin!"

Her eyes dart around, looking for teenagers. They're on the other side of the showroom, so then she leans forward and says, "You know. ‘Do you want me inside you, Lowyn? Do you want me to lick you, Lowyn?'"

My hand automatically reaches for a pad of paper next to the cash register and I start fanning myself. "Lord, that's hot."

Lowyn winks at me. "Isn't it?"

"Well, Amon hasn't gotten there yet. He's just…" I roll my eyes up and swoon again just thinking about how he's pulling out all the stops for me. "‘Dreamy' really is the right word. He's sweet, Lowyn. He says romantic things."

"Like what?"

"He said that if he had one wish, he would wish that I was never alone, or unhappy, or scared."

"Aww," Lowyn coos. "That is sweet. Collin recited the Revival wedding vows to me once."

My eyes light up. "Well, that counts, my friend. That counts."

"I think so too." Now it's her turn to sigh. "You do realize that we're automatic best friends now, Rosie. Right? Because if Amon and Collin are besties, then it's practically the rule."

"It is, Lowyn. And we are."

"And you know what that means?"

"A double wedding?"

She laughs. "I hadn't gotten that far yet, but maybe. I was gonna say that we're sisters now."

"Mmmm," I hum. "I've never had a sister, so this is an upgrade. And you know what else?"

"Tell me."

"Amon has four sisters. And you have one, aside from me. So that makes seven of us. Seven sisters. I like the sound of this."

"It's quite the extended family we're gathering, isn't it?"

I nod. "It is. I love my family. They're very good people. My mama and daddy stood by me when I got pregnant in high school, as did all my brothers. But you know what I've figured out, Low?"

"What, Rosie?"

"That you can't have too much family. You just can't. There can never be too many people who care about you."

She reaches across the glass and takes hold of both my hands. "I can't wait to spend the rest of my friend-life with you, Rosie. We're family forever now." Then she gives my hands a squeeze, lets go, and starts walking towards the break room. "I'm gonna work on my schedule for next week. Let me know if you need anything."

"I will, Low. I will."

And if I did need something, she would be there. I've always thought I could depend on Lowyn McBride, but now I know it for sure.

We're family.

And that's that.

Lowyn leaves around noon and not more than five minutes go by before the teenage boys show up to join the girls. The next thing I know, the jukebox is jumping and they're all bouncing around in the middle of the store like this is someone's basement rumpus room instead of a business.

But I hate to break it up. It looks fun, actually. So I let it go.

Cross comes by about an hour later, a couple of his friends tagging along. Cell phones are pulled out, messages are sent, and the next thing I know, McBooms is having a party.

I might dress like a teenager, but I'm an adult. I am not the cool mom. Cross and I are not friends, he is my son. I don't believe in that sort of thing, I believe in parenting. I am one hundred percent mama bear. But I don't really mind that they're all here, kinda sorta taking advantage of Lowyn and me, because I like knowing where they are. I like knowing that they're all safe.

So I don't say anything when all the chairs have a teenage butt in them and all the rugs are getting cut with dance moves. I don't even mind when Leland Bowers shows up with seven pizza boxes and all the kids dig in their pockets to pay for it. They come up five dollars short, but I pitch in and take my two pieces back to my counter and just watch pretty much every kid over the age of ten have a good time in McBooms.

The funny thing is, I don't think Lowyn would mind either. I mean, they're not destroying nothing and rarely do we have walk-in customers on Thursdays. This is what small-town life is for. You don't get all the bells and whistles of the city. You don't get bright lights or crowded streets filled with possibilities.

You get a spontaneous afternoon party at the local semi-famous vintage thrift store where no one's gonna yell at ya, and no one's gonna hurt ya, and everybody's gonna be themselves and have a good time because there isn't a single strange face for miles in any direction.

This is why I fought so hard to stay in Disciple and be the only single mom in town back when I was fifteen.

It's worth it.

This is the best gift I could've given my son.

And sure, one day he might leave. One day, he probably will leave. But that's years away, so I don't have to think too hard about it. And anyway, if he did leave, I think he would come back.

Collin and Amon did.

I swivel in my stool and look out the window so I can daydream about Amon a little bit before I shut the party down and close up. He said some pretty nice things to me this morning. I think he made his intentions perfectly clear and it's exciting. I stare at the backwards varsity letters that spell ‘McBooms' on the front window and have a revelation.

My luck has changed. I don't think I realized it until just this very moment. I mean, a few months ago Cross and I were renting a doublewide situated in a vacant lot across the alley from the bakery. And then, one day, Lowyn McBride asked if I would like to live in her cute-as-fuck little house that looks like it belongs on the glossy pages of a lifestyle magazine.

Then Jim Bob said I could put my little lonely-hearts publication inside the Revival News , which got me ten new regular subscribers over the next few weeks.

And then Amon Parrish appeared outside my little print shop pulling a wagon of bones and the next thing I knew, I had myself a love interest.

It's so weird how life can turn on a dime like that.

Everything has changed.

Hmm. One of my eyebrows goes up because there's a connection to this turn of luck and it starts and ends with Amon Parrish. He came back into town and suddenly, life is better.

And for some reason this thought leads to the call of Revival. And I think… maybe it really is a call? And maybe people really do answer that call?

Let it be a sign . That's how the call ends.

Let it be a sign.

This is my sign.

At six o'clock all the kids are kicked out and I lock up. Cross waits for me, sitting on the very stool where I spent my afternoon daydreaming. And when I'm all done, we walk out the back together, drive the few blocks home, and go inside.

"What's for dinner tonight?"

"Hamburger mac." I watch Cross's face as I say this because hamburger mac has been his favorite since he was two. Is he growin' out of it? Is it kind of embarrassing to love hamburger mac when you're twelve and heading into junior high this fall?

I wait for the disagreeing scowl. The one he's been practicing for the better part of six months now. The one that comes with the attitude that parents are the stupidest people on earth.

But to my delight he smiles. "Yum. I love hamburger mac. I'm so hungry. When will it be done?" His eyes dart over to the kitchen like he's expecting it to be cooking on the stove. And even though he knows better—even though he knows that we just walked through that door and into this house together—his little boy brain still expects there to be food cooking on the stove just because he's hungry.

Some mamas might get frustrated at their son's utter and complete lack of situational awareness. But not me. No, sir. I love that my boy thinks my superpowers are limitless.

So I smile as he frowns at me, which irritates him. "Why are you just standing there? I'm starving."

I turn my back before I laugh so he doesn't see me.

Now, again, some mamas might take offense to his unreasonable expectations. Mostly for the fact that he is a boy expecting his mama to serve him.

But that's my job. For now, anyway. I'm not in a hurry to give this up. We're on the cusp here. He's gonna be gone soon enough and I will never get these years back. With each day that passes the number of times that my son will look to me to meet all his needs dwindles.

And if I think about it too hard, I'll cry.

So I don't think about it at all. I just go into the kitchen, tie on an apron, and rustle this boy up some hamburger mac. Cross goes into his room and I don't hear a peep out of him until dinner's ready and I go knocking on the door.

"What?" he calls back. And he sounds irritated. Which baffles me a little because wasn't he just starving to death?

"What? Dinner's ready, that's what. Get your butt out here." I go to open the door, but I find it locked. "Cross Harlow! Why on earth are you locking me out of your room?"

"I'm doing something."

"You're doin' what, exactly, that you need to talk to your mama this way? Especially since I just rustled you up some dinner."

I hear him sigh on the other side of the door. The lock disengages and there he is, peeking at me through a crack in the door. "I'll be right there." His voice is calmer now. "You don't have to wait at the door like I'm a baby."

I put up both my hands in surrender. "Fine. You're a grown-up." Then I turn and walk back to the kitchen.

I guess I should get used to this because twelve leads to thirteen and from there, his childhood is pretty much over. I don't like it, but there's nothing I can do to stop it. As a teenager, I had it easy because I am the youngest of five. Four brothers came up in our house before me so my mama and daddy had lots of practice by the time I turned sour.

They let me be, mostly. Which, in retrospect, might've been a mistake.

Except I cannot call my son a mistake.

And just as I think that, he appears, smiling and hungry. Like our little interaction never happened.

Twenty minutes later Cross's bowl is clean and it's not even dark yet. So of course he wants to go back outside and squeeze in every bit of summertime he can.

Which I do not object to. But I call out the rules from the front porch as he takes off running down the street anyway. "Cross Harlow! You be home when those streetlights come on!"

There's a faint, "I will," response as he turns the corner, heading up the hill towards the Revival ground. That's where the kids mostly hang out because there's a private park in the back of the tent, right near the river, where no tourists can go but every kid in Disciple is welcome.

I go back inside, sighing. Then clean up the kitchen, take off my apron, and decide that I deserve a long, hot bath to cap off such a fine day.

Even though I've lived here in Lowyn's house for a couple months now, I still get a little flutter of excitement as I climb the stairs because this place is truly something out of a catalogue. And I can't help but think about that as I enter the room. And then, of course, I have to count my blessings because there is such a thing as too blessed, and when this happens, that's when karma catches up.

This sentence is literally still playing in my head when I spot it on the bed.

At first, I can't make sense of what I'm seeing. And then, after I fully comprehend what it is, I can't remember if it's supposed to be here or not.

Because it's a thing that is both familiar and out of place at the same time, so my brain is muddled for a good ten seconds before it finally puts all the pieces together.

My stomach sinks. It's that hollowed-out kind of sinking stomach that comes with terrible news. And this is terrible news because on my bed, propped up right against my pillow, is a piece of paper and on that piece of paper is a crossword puzzle.

I look around real slow. Like whoever left this here might still be close.

Then I take out my phone, snap a picture, and run my ass back down those stairs and right out on to the porch, the whole time looking for Amon's contact in my phone. I keep walking when I get outside, all the way out to the sidewalk. Then I stand there, staring at this too-cute fairytale house, and nearly come undone when Amon answers.

"Hey, Rosie, what?—"

But I interrupt him. "Someone was in my house, Amon! Someone was here and left me a crossword puzzle on my pillow!"

"Where are you?"

"Outside. On the sidewalk."

"Where's Cross?"

"Revival Park, I think. He went that direction about ten minutes ago."

"Walk up there and get him and I'll meet you at the Revival tent in twenty minutes."

The call drops and I take a deep breath.

Erol. It had to have been him. And if he was in my house, then he's… here .

Suddenly, I have an urgent need to find my son, so I start running up the hill towards the Revival grounds. I fly through the gates, calling out polite hellos as people greet me, and make my way all the way back to the park where I can see a group of kids hanging out by the river.

I scan the crowd, but I don't see Cross. I'm about to lose my mind and start yelling his name like a crazy woman when the gang of kids breaks up and there he is in the middle, smiling and laughing like he hasn't got a care in the world.

My breath comes out in a rush and my whole body relaxes.

He's safe. And I'm safe. And Amon is coming here to make sure we stay that way.