Flying in Shadows (The Black Creek Series, Book 2) (3 page)

He thought he could see tears on her full cheeks, but her head drooped, covering much
of her profile with the locks of large curls. He knew how much she hated crying, and
it strangled his heart. Without thinking, he used a finger to tuck the waves behind
her ear and over her shoulder. He watched as the tears fell down her face in sync
with the rain that dripped from the tips of her umbrella. As her shoulders quit twitching,
he noticed her breathing slowed.

Her eyelids dropped slowly.

Staring at her, he thought of five years before, when they stood next to each other
like this. Only then, it was he who cried as they watched his aunt's house burn after
Brie and Andy's brother barely made it out alive. He remembered how Rose reached out,
took his hand and held on for what seemed like days as they stood among the chaos.

He didn't care how stupid it was; he stuck out his hand, twined their fingers together
between umbrellas and let the rain fall on their joined hands. She didn't look at
him, but the way she crushed his fingers, he guessed he did the right thing.

* * *

Andy appreciated Rose's relentless nagging to both their sets of folks about the camping
trip they'd been promised. She lay next to him on a blanket as he watched the sky
explode with sparks from the small campfire. They looked like baby orange stars floating
irregularly up to meet their billions of bright, white cousins stuck high in the still
sky.

He sat up on the blanket. He felt the hard dirt beneath him, thinking it was a shame
it took death for their folks to finally keep their promise. Inhaling deeply, he took
in the smell of dirt, trees and campfire. The site was compact and at this time of
evening flirting with darkness.

Towering sycamores and red oaks swayed in the breeze as if to inspect the strangers
below who were invading their turf. The strangers included all of Andy and Rose's
families. Busy campsite. His tent looked like a hotel next to his best friend's small
tent for four. His had two areas inside that were separated by zippered material and
fit all seven of them. His uncle was the only father he could remember. He turned
out to be a solid dad. Andy was thankful, yet wished he could remember them like his
brother could. Duncan was only two years older, but Nathan said he could remember
their parents because of his talent for art. He had a gift for drawing faces and remembering
those kinds of details.

The bond between Andy and his uncle could only compete with that of his connection
with Nathan's wife. Brie's warmth and acute ability to read people saved both Andy
and Duncan when they moved to Northridge with Nathan. Their uncle had given up everything,
Andy remembered, as he watched him help his twin boys throw sticks at the fire. His
young cousins jumped each time flames caught the dry twigs with small explosions of
color and heat. He was thankful Nathan had moved him and Duncan to Northridge, near
their grandparents, for help with raising them. After a time, he and Duncan came to
think of Nathan and Brie as their parents and addressed them as such. Andy sighed
and smiled.

He and Rose's little sisters used sticky fingers to maneuver marshmallows on wooden
pokers before propping them over the fire, sometimes
in
the fire. Carefully, they centered chocolate squares on graham crackers as his aunt
and brother sat on plastic folding chairs with their heads together, looking at Duncan's
sketch pad.

On the opposite side of the campsite, he noticed Rose's mom as she sat on a blanket
of her own, looking as white as a ghost. Dark rings dug beneath her usually bright
eyes. She was sitting on the ground, leaning back against Mr. Nolan's legs. They sat
in silence as he rubbed her neck and shoulders.

As the sky darkened further, Andy lay back with Rose, watching as more stars awakened
between the soaring trees. They listened to the happy sound of neighboring families
through the rustle of leaves.

"A puppy," Rose blurted out. Lying in her usual ponytail, jeans and sneakers, her
full cheeks were rosy from the chill of the evening.

Andy recognized her wish on the first star she saw. "You've been trying to get your
mom to get you a puppy since you were seven."

"First star I see tonight. I can wish it, can't I? Falling star." She slugged him
in the arm.

"You can't slug bug a fallen star. Double backs."

"Chicken. And don't you tell me what I can't do." She crossed her arms and glanced
at him through the corner of her eyes. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

"Helping me get through great-granddad's funeral." She turned her head to face him,
brows scrunched closely together. She leaned closer and whispered, "If you laugh,
I'll kick your ass."

He shrugged. "I won't. You're welcome."

Rose looked at him and thought about that rainy day. Something she didn't quite recognize
stirred inside her heart.

The evening was what it promised to be, cool and damp. A propane stove cooked sloppy
joes and macaroni and cheese. Her mom had spent weeks and months, before Rose was
born, in third world countries working with FEMA and the Red Cross at disaster sites.
The propane stove would have been a luxury then. Her mom said using it was cheating
but had no problem wolfing down two sandwiches and a small mountain of mac-n-cheese.

The smell of the outdoors mixed with the aroma of dinner and campfire turned out to
be therapy for everyone. She listened as the parents planned a next-day hike through
the trails, followed by throwing Frisbees and baseballs, then a trip to the small
Seneca Park Zoo in Rochester.

Great-granddad would have been pleased, she knew.

* * *

Rose's younger sister stood in line with Andy's cousins. Each stuck the toes of their
shoes through the spaces in the chain-link fence surrounding a polar bear exhibit,
straining to get a better look. They giggled in chorus as the pair of large, white
beasts took turns diving at a metal barrel in their pond.

The adults stood next to the Galapagos Tortoises, turning every so often to check
on everyone while taking in the gentle nature of the enormous creatures. Rose thought
about how each gravitated toward the animal that best fit their mood.

As the only teenager in the group, Duncan was leaning on one foot with a shoulder
up against the fence of the polar bear habitat. Rose recognized it as a too-cool-for-the-zoo
stance. She watched as Andy slithered up to him and sensed he was about to bait his
stuffy brother.

"They swim as well as you do, Dunc." Andy strutted, nodding his head toward the polar
bears that looked deceivingly clumsy as they floundered in the water. When Duncan
went to shove at the side of his head, Andy quickly ducked and slipped out of reach.
Duncan must not have been too cool to resist chasing Andy; they dodged spectators
and earned sneers from the nearly missed adults.

She knew the real reason they were on this trip. Her great-granddad had been killed.
An attempted burglary gone wrong, the police had said. The only father figure her
mom had ever known was dead.

Andy's uncle had helped Dave change the locks and install an alarm system. That helped.
Mr. Reed was always good with that kind of thing. Rose saw him give Mrs. Reed's butt
a couple of pats when he thought no one was looking. It was kind of sweet.

Dave and her mom stood in the sunlight. He rested his large hand on the small of her
mom's back. Rose watched as she closed her eyes and let the side of her head drop
to his chest. Rose realized at that moment Dave had kept her within arm's reach since
the day her grandfather was killed—was murdered.

Rose did love the zoo. Animals were simple. They knew how to love, how to protect
their families. She was in her own kind of habitat here, which was likely another
part of why they made the trip. She'd worked her mom mercilessly about getting a pet,
but so far had to settle with an occasional frog or temporary turtle she could catch
from the creek. They caught a birds of prey show, and she made no attempt to leash
her excitement.

Andy sat next to her and rubbed his arm where she had hit him with the back of her
hand over and over again.

She was on the edge of her seat. Literally.

"Sit down or they're gonna kick us out of here," he said.

"My wish," she responded. The zookeeper gave a command, and a red-tailed hawk spread
his wings, lifted gracefully from her gloved hand and flew to a nearby oak tree.

Andy kept rubbing his arm. "What?" he asked as the woman recited facts that were of
more interest to a group of younger children while she used hand signals to cue the
bird. Genius. It swooped back down, gliding low over the heads of the ducking spectators
and landed gracefully on the zookeeper's outstretched arm. Gladly, it gobbled down
the treat its handler offered.

Rose clapped neurotically. "That's my wish; what I want to do. To be."

"You want to be a bird lady?"

She elbowed him in the ribs. "That and I want a hundred puppies."

The zookeeper lifted her arm to signal the bird to expand its nearly three-foot wings.

"Well, I'm going to build. My uncle says I can live with him in the summers in the
city when I get older, and he's going to show me how he builds buildings."

Rose turned her head, almost in slow motion, and faced him. Her eyes drifted from
one side of him to the other before focusing on his face. After a few unsettling moments,
she turned back toward the show, but couldn't find it in her to watch any longer.

Chapter3

EIGHT YEARS LATER...

The plane ride was short and had given Andy time to gear up for a weekend away. His
freshman year at Purdue U. College was a blast, but he could definitely use a weekend
filled with a bigger bedroom, decent food and neighbors that didn't crank their bass
until three in the morning. Before he had to buckle down for finals, he wanted to
see his best friend and give his latest Mustang a test drive. Duncan was right when
he said it was ready to go and purring like a cat, although Duncan didn't like people
to know he could work on cars. His brother preferred to keep his sophisticated, right-brained
artist image as fine-tuned as his engines.

Andy cranked The Boss and thought of the look on Rose's face when he showed up. She
was terrible at keeping in touch, but so was he. He knew her well enough to know she
rarely had down time. Working part time for the landscaping business their parents
shared left just enough time for her to volunteer at the zoo, while applying for every
scholarship she could get her hands on. He would have to pull her away from it all,
even if it meant over his shoulder.
 

* * *

Rose hefted a load of brick edgers around to the back of the spec house. Her mom sat
on her heels with her boney knees resting on a pad. She was working on securing landscaping
fabric and steadied her hands as she worked the spikes into the black cloth.

The air was chilled but not enough to keep beads of sweat from dripping under Rose's
sweatshirt and down her back. As she hauled and stacked, she thought of the black
belt test she had the next morning and felt the butterflies in her stomach return.
Her small size would make the boards difficult to break. She'd learned to use the
momentum of her ninety-five pounds for just that purpose, but still. For whatever
reason, this was important to her mom, and Rose rationalized that if she'd gone this
far, she might as well finish and go for the black.

At the sound of Jimi Hendrix roaring over an ostentatious rumble from the engine of
a sports car, she sprinted for the front of the construction site. She smiled wildly
as she ran. If he knew her reaction to the sound of his approach, Andy would never
let her live it down. He parked at the curb and got out.

"You came!" She skidded to a stop, then awkwardly hugged him. His shoulders felt bigger,
if that were possible, even though his cheeks were thinner and covered with a layer
of stubble. When did he get stubble? Andy looked different. He'd buzzed his caramel
brown hair, losing the waves. Pulling back, she noticed that through the sharpened
features, his eyes were comfortably just as she remembered. The soft brown carried
a lifetime of shared memories, erasing the months apart.