Chapter Twelve
Twelve
A Pearl of Wisdom
from Isabel Espinoza
“If you make a promise, you best be keeping it.”
Juliet
It was early afternoon, and Katy and I were on our way to Juneberry Cottage to see Maeve. She’d called Tenn earlier, saying she’d accidentally left her lunch bag in the front hallway that morning and was hoping Katy and I could run it over.
It was supposed to have been a quick fifteen-minute walk, but Katy was easily distracted by all things nature-related, so it was taking us much longer.
We’d had a good morning. We’d made up a goofy dance. Wrote a book called The Sparkly Blue Dragon. Climbed old Bill and read for a while. It had been one of the best days I’d had in a while, which just added to the evidence that what Tallulah had told me this morning was true.
That I would heal here.
Sunlight glinted off her glasses as Katy said, “Juneberry Cottage is real close to the library. Can we stop there on the way back? We can say hi to Mama. We can pick out books, too. I’m allowed to check out as many books as I can carry.”
“I bet that’s a lot.”
She laughed and stretched her arms wide, Maeve’s lunch bag swinging on her arm. “It is.”
In all the time we’d spent together today, Katy hadn’t said a word about her father. Because she was a chatterbox, I figured the omission had to be on purpose.
I understood. We all had things we didn’t like to talk about.
She darted ahead and picked up a rock off the ground. She gave it a good once-over and then tucked it into the pocket of her yellow shorts. Then she skipped back to me, her thin arms swinging wide. “Do you know how to skip, Juliet? I can teach you if you don’t.”
I smiled. Skipping was definitely her preferred method of getting around. “It’s been a while. Can you remind me how to do it?”
Immediately, she went bopping about and I couldn’t stop grinning. I pretended to struggle before getting it right, and she clapped, then laughed, adding, “You look kind of silly.”
I laughed, too. “I feel kind of silly.” But I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. It had been a long time since I laughed so freely. “I have to admit it’s fun, though. Thanks for the lesson.”
She skipped off again, a bundle of energy. “You’re welcome.”
I rushed after her and nearly stepped on a feather. I bent and picked it up. I glanced around, looking for the chubby robin with the white marking but didn’t see it. Yet somehow I knew, deep down, that this feather had come from that bird.
“Juliet, look!” Katy pointed ahead to an oval sign at the mouth of a long curving gravel driveway. “There it is.”
On a fuchsia background, the words Juneberry Cottage were written in a flowing white font atop a golden branch dotted with gold berries. Underneath the branch, in smaller print, read HOSPICE RESPITE.
My chest ached at seeing those words, my heart knowing exactly what they meant. The people who came to Juneberry, patients and caregivers alike, were facing the unimaginable.
An ending.
Katy and I headed down the tree-lined driveway, gravel crunching beneath our feet as we made our way along.
When we rounded a bend, Juneberry came into view.
It was larger than I’d expected for something deemed a cottage, but it had all the hallmarks of one: gables and dormers and a wide porch with wooden columns and an arched doorway.
In front of the building, the driveway circled around a small flower garden with a tree at its center. Katy carefully stepped into the flower bed and gazed up at the tree. “They’re all gone.”
“What are?”
“The juneberries. This tree had a mess of them the last time I was here.”
“I’ve never heard of a juneberry. What do they look like?”
“Like blueberries! But smaller.” Her face scrunched. “And pinker.”
“Can you eat them?”
She nodded and tiptoed out of the garden. “But they don’t taste like blueberries. They taste like cherries. And grapes. And apples. And raisins.”
I laughed. “That’s a lot of flavors for a little berry.”
“Aunt Maeve said it’s not even a berry even though it’s called a juneberry. It’s a pome.” She said the word in a fancy, playful tone, the single syllable drawn out.
The only type of pome I knew off the top of my head was an apple. And I only knew that because of a language class in high school. The French word for apple was pomme.
I was following Katy toward the front of the cottage when I realized what had just happened.
So seamless I nearly hadn’t noticed.
I’d remembered something from high school.
I wanted to laugh. To cry. To text Amy.
It felt a little like a miracle.
It felt a little like magic.
And just like that, I was beyond grateful for the detour that had brought me here.
A gently sloping walkway led us onto a spacious porch dotted with white rockers. Ceiling fans stirred the humid air and the leaves on potted plants.
Katy skipped ahead of me, toward the arched door, just as it swung open and Callum stepped out.
He was dressed in what I’d come to recognize as his work uniform. Dark blue pants. Gray T-shirt with the Hearnshaw Automotive logo. Dark blond hair curled out from underneath the brim of a ball cap. Once again, he smelled faintly of oil and cedar, a scent I would forevermore think of as his.
His eyes were filled with affection as he gently tugged on the end of Katy’s braid. “Hey, pipsqueak.”
The endearment gave me pause, knocking me a bit off-balance.
Katy gave him a half hug, squishing up close to his side. “Hi, Callum!” Then she dropped into a crouch to watch a ladybug wander across the porch.
Callum glanced at me, and I tipped my head, silently daring him to pull my braid.
Smiling, he kept his hands to himself. In a teasing tone, he said, “I’m starting to think you’re following me, Juliet. Yesterday at Snug’s, today here. People are going to start making assumptions.”
Was he flirting? I’d been out of the dating game so long I wasn’t sure. “You’re the one who found me at the grocery store, Callum.”
“Oh, that’s right.” His eyes twinkled.
My heart stumbled a bit, and I told it to pull itself together. I’d be leaving this town soon. Speaking of …
I opened my mouth, but he held up a hand, cutting me off.
“If you’re about to ask about your car, I’m still on the hunt for the part. I’ll let you know when I know something. I promise.”
I had been about to ask, even after everything Tallulah had told me this morning.
“You should pinky swear,” Katy said to him. “Then she’ll know you’re serious.”
He drew in a deep breath through his nose, lifted his hand, and crooked his pinky, almost like a challenge.
Holding back a smile, I latched my pinky onto his and ignored the butterflies taking flight in my stomach.
Katy stood, the ladybug on her fingertip. She gently set it onto the leaf of a shrub and looked at Callum. “You have to say it.”
He tightened his pinky around mine. “I pinky swear I’ll let you know as soon as I get the part in.”
In a loud whisper, I said to Katy, “I don’t know. Do you think he’s trustworthy?”
“Hey!” he said, laughing lightly.
He still hadn’t let go of my pinky. And I hadn’t let go of his.
She nodded solemnly. “He is.”
“Thanks, pip,” he said.
Pip. Pipsqueak.
I wasn’t sure why the name tugged at my soul.
Though if I had to guess, I’d say it had something to do with Grandpa.
Callum finally let go of my finger, crossed his arms, and said to Katy, “Read anything good lately?”
She nodded and launched into a full report about the unicorn book, complete with hand gestures, funny voices, and dramatic reenactments.
I kept an eye on Callum while she described a plot to overthrow a villainous wizard, and he seemed to be hanging on her every word. Every so often, he chimed in with a “Really?” or a “Wow” or a “I wouldn’t have seen that coming, either.”
It was adorable.
They were adorable together.
“Did you come here to visit Uncle Renny?” she asked when she finally wrapped up her in-depth presentation.
“Yeah, but I need to be getting back. My lunch break is almost over. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you two around.” He pulled open the front door, holding it for us. “Especially since”—he nodded to me—“this one keeps following me.”
“Ha-ha,” I said.
But I was smiling as he let go of the door and strode off, heading for a blue truck. As I watched him go, I suddenly hoped that the part for my car would take a while to come in.
A long while.