Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
That’s when I decided that free time was my enemy and started taking part-time jobs all over Trinity County. Cross and I lived in that doublewide behind the bakery because there are hardly ever any houses up for sale or rent in Disciple and I was dead set on stayin’ inside the town limits. But I’m not poor. I’ve never lacked for anything I truly wanted, and neither has Cross. Every January first I get my profit share from the Revival, so money is a constant in my life. Something I can count on.
Plus I had my Revival trust, which was saved up in a bank account for me for when I reached legal age. There was a time, back then in my early twenties, when I had nearly a hundred thousand dollars in the bank. I had so much money it started to freak me out, so I took most of it and put it in a second trust for Cross so nothing bad could happen to it.
I just kept working, though. And the years just kept passing, and that bank account of mine got too big again. That’s when I opened up the Bishop Busybody. I spend a lot of money on that place. On the dresses, and the cottage, and the store.
But as I told Amon that first day we bumped into each other, time is something you make for things you like doing. And for some stupid reason, I fancy myself an eighteenth-century printer. Plus, those dresses are just plain fun.
All my wandering thoughts come full circle when I come up to Amon and Cross and my son is bursting with words, trying to say them all at once to tell me about his day.
Something about shooting, and dogs, and body armor, and I’m pretty sure there was mention of a grenade in there, but he’s talking so fast I miss the context. And by the time my brain catches up, he’s on to something else about a church basement full of guns.
This is when Amon says, “Your mama don’t wanna hear about any of that, Cross.” And then his eyes lock with mine and brighten. “Let’s hear about your day, Rosie.” And he offers me his arm.
So the three of us walk down the hill towards the bowling alley, with me filling him in on all my tea-party details, and Cross jogging ahead, then waiting for us, then jogging ahead again And it’s… good. It’s really good, and it feels amazing to have someone to share my day with who not only likes me, but my son as well.
And this is when I realize that my life has finally started. Twelve years ago I put it on hold—accidentally or not, it was on hold. And now it’s going somewhere.
I am no longer desperately seeking anyone.
Because I found my someone and his name is Amon Parrish.
Rosie is quiet as we walk. Even after we get to the bowling alley and sort out the shoes, and the balls, and the lane, she is still quiet.
But she’s not frowning. She’s actually smiling pretty big because that whole time Cross was jabbering about his day she took great pleasure in listening to him. I think she likes the idea of him and I hanging out.
Now Cross is preoccupied with my sisters. Halo in particular, since at sixteen she is closest in age. But they are all friendly girls. And anyway, everyone in Disciple loves Cross Harlow because he’s perpetually in a good mood, doesn’t get in much trouble, and his mother is Rosie, who is kind of a legend in this town for more than one reason. So there is no awkwardness between the five of them.
Even though I understand why Rosie has been quiet, I feel the need to ask about it because I did break the news that her son’s father is dead just a couple days after she came to terms with the idea that he might still be alive and all of this feels very much like my fault. “Everything OK?”
Rosie is sitting on the bench behind the score table, watching all the bowling action. But she looks up at me now. “More than OK. Why do you ask?”
“You’re just quiet.”
“It’s a happy quiet.”
I sit down next to her, leaning back so I can stretch my arm out just behind her shoulder. “I figured it might be, but thought I’d inquire just to make sure.”
She gives me a sideways look, her eyes grinning. “That was smooth.”
We both laugh because it really was a teenage-boy move. “I do my best.”
She leans back now so that the side of her head leans on my shoulder, and lets out a long sigh. “Like I said this morning when you told me, it feels a little like shame, Amon. It’s just this sick feeling inside me that I… behaved badly.” She straightens up so she can look at me. “That’s what it is. Not looking for him after Cross was born—just giving up like that and accepting things—has always felt like a low moment in my life. Like I failed to live up to my own expectations. It might even be part of my condition.”