Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
I stare into my phone at the freckled face of my sweet mother. Her long red hair falls on either side of her shoulders.
“Did you think she’d just automatically fall back in love with you?” Her brows knit. She sucks in a breath. “Oh, you did. Goodness. I can have a turkey pie casserole down there in three hours, Zevulun. Just give me three hours.”
“Mom, you don’t need to feed me.”
“Of course I do. You have to eat. If you don’t eat, you’ll get sick.”
“I’m eating,” I say. “I knew this would be tricky. I just didn’t expect Robert to come back into the picture, making it feel impossible.”
“You know how you love my turkey casserole.”
“Mom,” I say with a huff. “I’m meeting Rosalie at the café in half an hour. We’re having lunch.”
“Sunshine, you just have to act natural. You’re wonderful. He doesn’t have anything over you. But you’re acting jealous. That’s the problem. You’re reacting to her ex like a boyfriend would. You’re acting like you know that vampire—”
“It’s just Robert, and I do know him, Mother. Rosalie told me all about him.”
She gives me a pointed stare, and if this camera were backed up, I’m certain I’d see her hand on her hip. “I know that. And you know that. But Rosalie doesn’t know that. And she certainly doesn’t know that we know that.”
I shut my eyes and sigh. “So, you’re saying I need to be more… natural.”
“Yes. As if you didn’t know a darn thing. If you didn’t know a darn thing, what would you do?”
“I don’t know. I suppose listen to her feelings about him.” But the last thing I want to do is listen to my girl pine over that jerk.
“Then that’s what you do, Sunshine.” Mom gives one curt nod. “With everything. Not just the vampire—”
“Robert,” I growl.
Mom doesn’t seem to notice I’ve spoken though.
“You know she loves teaching elementary, but she doesn’t know that yet.
Honey, she’s got to go through the motions of life again.
And she might not get there the same way as before.
You’re trying to give her books and feed her foods you know she loves.
You’ve got to let her get there in her own way. ”
“So, I shouldn’t have brought her soup? I shouldn’t have asked her to watch the fireworks in her favorite spot ever? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No,” she croons. “Your mama taught you right. You always bring a sick girl soup or turkey casserole.”
“Mom,” I moan. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“I know, baby. Maybe you need a little amnesia in your life, too. Act natural, Zevulun. You’re reacting, not responding to her.”
“But I do know and I can’t undo that. I—”
Mom holds up one finger. “Uh-uh-uh,” she lectures. “Respond. Don’t react.”
I blow out a tired sigh. “Respond.”
“There you go. I have to take Minnie Williams down the street some turkey pie. But you call with a report the minute you get back from the café. We’ll get our girl back, Zev. You’ll see.” Mallory Hayes is a determined optimist who’s fixing the world one turkey pie at a time.
“Sure, Mom. Thanks.”
“Let me know if you change your mind about that turkey pie.”
I smirk. “Okay.”
“The Last Explorer of the North?” I peer down at the book cover. I’ve never seen this book before. Surely, Rosalie would have shared this with me sooner if she loves it so much.
“Yeah, it’s about Ronald Amundsen, a Norwegian explorer.” She grins. “My dad said it’s excellent.”
“Your dad? You haven’t read it?”
She stirs in her seat. “No. But I will. One day.”
“I want to read something you’ve read—something you’d actually recommend.”
Rosalie clears her throat. “I’m sort of doing a deep dive into all things romantic comedy right now. It’s happy.” Her eyes skirt mine. “And carefree, and that’s what I currently need in my reading material.”
Natural. Mallory Hayes is a wise woman who does, in fact, make a mean turkey casserole. And she advised me to respond, not react. So, I think for a minute. If Rose had said this to me two years ago, when we were first meeting, how would I have replied?
“Okay,” I say after only a second thought. “What was your last five-star read?”
She licks her lips. “A Hallmarkish book about a woman moving to a small town and falling for her neighbor after they feud over their fenceline. Believe me, Zev—”
“I’ll take it. Bring it next time?”
She grunts. “I really think you’ll like this one. I think I will, too. One day.”
“I’ll read it later then. Bring me the small-town kissing book.”
She smirks. “You don’t mind kissing books?”
“I really don’t.” I sip from my lemonade. “I’ll pretty much read anything.”
Her lips twitch, fighting a smile.
What would I naturally ask her? Rather than convince her she’ll love something I know she loves, I need to ask more questions. “That’s settled. Now, Rosalie, what is it you want to do with your life?”
She hums out a breath, and her hands disappear into her lap. “Teach. I’ve always wanted to teach high school one day, but my family is convinced I’m better suited for elementary.”
Natural. Years ago, Rosalie found out on her own that she wanted to teach elementary. Her family knows that now, but she doesn’t. Naturally and normally, without more knowledge, I’d never just agree with her family. “No one can make that decision for you.”
“I agree.” She sighs, shutting her eyes and tipping her head back into the sunshine for just a second. “They mean well. Believe me, they aren’t tyrants. And they have more… experience than I do.”
“That’s fair. You still have to decide. Why do you want to teach high school?”
“I love literature. I love history. I just want to have deep, meaningful discussions about such things.” She shrugs. “You know?”
“Sounds like you want to teach college. I have a sister in high school, but she’s not too big into deep, historical discussions.”
Rosalie chuckles. “You might be right.”
“You’ll figure it out,” I say, realizing I need to believe this. Rosalie is brilliant, capable, and clever. She may have lost a few memories, but she hasn’t lost that. She will figure it out. And my mother’s right, I need to let that happen naturally.
“Thanks, Zev,” she says, and it’s obvious she means it. The relief of someone else trusting her with her own life is evident. She needs to be trusted.
I just need to have faith that she’ll fall back in love with me naturally.
My stomach flips uncomfortably with the thought.
Yeah, that might be easier said than done.