A Life, Forward: A Rowan Slone Novel Page 17

  The room had the faint smell of cigarettes and strong coffee. I don’t know where the cigarette smell came from, but there were about five cups of coffee sitting around her desk in various levels of fullness.

  “Hi.” I cleared my throat. “Can I speak to someone about the Prisoners and Pets Program? I work at the animal shelter and we have a pet that we would like to pair with someone who is here. In the jail.” My palms started to sweat. Was this the right thing to do? Mom should burn in Hell so why did I want to send her a dog to love and care for?

  But it felt right. That was all there was to it.

  “That would be me. I’m in charge of that program, though it’s been stagnate lately.” She leaned back in her chair and fixed her eyes on my face. “Talk to me.” She twisted a plain gold wedding band around and around her finger.

  “I um…” I started to cough. “Excuse me.”

  “Would you like a mint?” She picked up a hard candy.

  “Um, no thank you. We, well, we have a dog that has been neglected. He’s been in the shelter and he doesn’t seem to be violent but needs love and attention.”

  “Okay. That sounds good. We have several prisoners here now, though not a full house. I think we have a couple of good options that come to mind.”

  “Well, I think there is someone…I mean, there is someone in particular that I think would be a good fit for this dog.”

  Her thin brows rose. “Who?”

  “Amy Slone.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What’s your name?”

  “Rowan,” I whispered. “Rowan Slone.”

  “Ah-ha. I thought I recognized you.”

  I didn’t recognize her, but that didn’t matter. Mom’s trial had been a whirlwind, most of which I didn’t remember and didn’t ever want to remember again.

  My hands grew restless under her gaze and I fidgeted with the zipper of my coat.

  “Okay. I think that’s a great idea. Your mother is doing very well—”

  But before she could continue, I shook my head so hard it nearly gave me whiplash. “I don’t…”

  “Oh. I understand. Okay. Let me take down your information.” She gave me a sympathetic smile that almost made her angular, masculine face beautiful. “I know Janie. We go way back.” She slid a piece of paper to me over the desk. With shaky hands, I wrote down my name and the shelter’s number.

  “Thank you.” I slid the paper back toward her.

  “You’re welcome. Thanks for coming in. I believe in this program and the good it can do.”

  I nodded and walked out. My knees barely carried me to my car and shook the whole way to the shelter.

  “HI, JANIE.”

  “Hey, Rowan. How was your day?”

  “It was good actually. No complaints.” I set my backpack behind the counter.

  Janie fiddled with a strap on her blue overalls and then pulled her long hair up into a ponytail. “If you want to go home and take a little more time off, that’s fine. I’m okay here.”

  “I appreciate that but this is one of the few places I love to be.”

  “Oh, I understand that. I love these animals. We got a new dog in today. An old one.”

  “Why did they bring him in?”

  “The owner is going overseas for work. He said there was no one to take him. The dog is really sweet and seems gentle. Such a shame.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Ten.”

  I shook my head, my heart hurting for the dog. Someone wouldn’t give up their child if they had to move, and I knew Janie agreed from the look on her face.

  “He seems fine, though, and will make a good dog for someone else. We’ll go through the usual procedures before we put him up for adoption but I don’t foresee a problem.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” And I was. Maybe there was an even better home for the dog out there. Maybe an elderly couple who were home most of the time and would want the companionship. Maybe the lady who’d come in the other day interested in Charley-bear.

  Janie started toward the back rooms, but I stopped her. “Janie, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure. Anything.” She walked back to the counter and leaned on one end. I leaned on the other. We looked like two misfits at the saloon waiting on our foaming beers.

  “Um, well, I had an idea. And I think it’s a really good one. But I need your guidance and, of course, your permission.”

  “Okay.”

  I didn’t know why I was suddenly so nervous. Janie was about the easiest person in the world to talk to. She’d never said a negative or judgmental thing that I’d ever heard. Everything I knew about her told me she would like this idea. Then why was I anxious?

  Because I needed this to work. There was no room for a relationship with my mom. Not now. Maybe not ever. But after Dad dying, I needed to do something.

  So I pulled in a deep breath and said, on the exhale, “You know that dog, Charley-bear? The timid one who is just starting to come around?”

  “Yes.”

  “And, um, do you know about that program Prisoners and Pets?”

  “Yes. I’m familiar with it. The prison used to contact us for dogs but hasn’t in a couple of years or so. Why? Do you think Charley-bear would be a good pet to consider?”

  I nodded and picked at the edge of the counter. “I do. And…” I swiped my hand across the clean surface.

  “Rowan? Spit it out. There is no idea that is a bad one.”

  Another inhale. “I would like to try to, I mean, I think Charley-bear would be a good fit for my mom.”

  “Your mom?” She sounded shocked.

  “Well, my mom is in jail there.”

  She nodded. “I had heard something like that, but I didn’t know if it was true or not.”

  “It’s true.” I cleared my throat. “She might get some benefit and Charley-bear might, too.”

  Janie bobbed her head up and down while she gazed out the window. Even though it was a cold evening, soon the temperature would warm and little eager buds would sprout into beautiful dogwood flowers on the tree right outside the door.

  “Let me think about this,” she said. “Although I think it sounds like a great idea, I need to know a little more about your mom to make sure that Charley-bear will be safe. And then we need to do a little more socialization with Charley-bear to make sure he’s safe. But this may very well be a good fit and a new way to energize this program.”

  She looked back at me. “I knew I promoted you for a reason, Rowan. Excellent idea.” She started toward the back. “Excellent idea,” she said again as she passed out of view.

  IT WAS late when I left the shelter. Janie and I didn’t talk about my idea anymore, but I did hear her on the phone at one point and it sounded like she was talking to someone at the prison. Despite my curiosity, I didn’t want to eavesdrop so I had forced my feet to carry me back down the hall.

  This had to work. It was the only way. Nothing else would matter if this didn’t work. If it did, it may very well be the thing that sent me catapulting forward, unlocking my future.

  I had a hard time concentrating as I drove to the Anderson’s. There were several balls in the air, popping like kernels in my head. Charley-bear. Mike. Living with the Andersons. Leaving the Andersons. Jess. So many pieces to the puzzle that I couldn’t keep it all straight.

  As I stood at the front door of the Anderson’s, a shiver washed over me. Something was wrong. Off. The hair on the back of my neck stood. I opened the door and knew immediately what it was.

  Trina and Mrs. Anderson were sitting on the sofa, mugs in hand. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were mother and daughter sharing a heartfelt chat over the trials and tribulations of life’s many paths. It was one of the most horrifying sights I had ever seen, and I gasped. Had the drug incident led to this? To the two of them spending quality time together? Mrs. Anderson swooping in to save my sister like she had saved me?

  Mrs. Anderson’s head whipped around. “Rowan! I’m so
glad you’re home.” She set the cup on the table and hurried to me, her eyes overly bright. “Your sister is here.”

  Trina plastered a wide smile on her face.

  “I see that.” Levi sat a few feet away from Trina, staring at her with a less than welcoming expression.

  “After the other day, I told her she should come over so we could talk more about what happened.”

  My lips were firmly pressed together as my stomach knotted in cramps. This was not a scene I wanted to see.

  Mrs. Anderson put her arm around my shoulders. For the first time ever, I tensed when she touched me. She dropped her arm. Silence plummeted into the room.

  Several moments passed before Mrs. Anderson spoke. “We were just talking. Won’t you join us?” She waved toward the couch with one hand while the other hovered at my back but not touching me.

  “No, thank you.” I struggled to keep my tone respectful. “I’m tired.”

  “Won’t you stay a minute, Sis? I’ve missed you.”

  Trina would say anything to lure out Mrs. Anderson’s sympathy. Couldn’t Mike’s mom see this? See what a fraud she was?

  “You know that youth group I told you Trina’s been going to?” Mrs. Anderson rubbed her hands together. “We wanted to see if you’d be interested in going with her this week. There are a lot of kids from the high school and the college who come to it. There are dances, movie nights, discussions—anything you can think of. This week it’s bowling.” Mrs. Anderson looked between Trina and me. “I think it would be a good start for the two of you. To start healing…” Her voice dropped off to a whisper. “Spend some time together.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve talked to Trina about her drug use. It seems she uses to make herself feel better.”

  Trina stood. Levi growled so low Mrs. Anderson didn’t seem to notice, but I heard it. And Trina must’ve heard it too because she glanced at my dog and took a step away from him.

  “Ro, would you want to go with me? To the next meeting on Wednesday?” She moved to Mrs. Anderson’s side. “It would be good for us.” Mrs. Anderson put her arms out, this time touching me with one hand on my shoulder and one hand on Trina’s, like she was the bridge of peace and forgiveness.

  I slid out of her grasp and went to Levi’s side. “I’m pretty busy with work and school. I don’t think I have enough time.”

  Mrs. Anderson watched me for several seconds then nodded. She led Trina toward the door. “I agree with you that it’s time to move on, to forgive.”

  “Thank you so much, Mrs. Anderson. I really appreciate you being so helpful. It is so nice to have someone who cares.” Trina shot me a glare that lasted a split second and then disappeared. “Can I come back again?”

  “Sure, sweetheart. You have my number. Give me a call if you need anything.” She touched Trina’s arm. “We can get through this.”

  Trina hugged Mrs. Anderson and left without even a glance in my direction but satisfaction was written all over her face. Mrs. Anderson locked the front door.

  “Honey, she really seems to want to move on; she’s sorry for what she did last year. She seems to want to move away from drugs and such. And I really do think she misses you.”

  I wanted to scream. How could Mrs. Anderson forget that Trina had accused her son of rape? Of getting her pregnant? Had brought drugs into her home? Was she that devout of a Christian?

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. A., but I have a headache. I’m going to go to bed if that’s okay.”

  Mrs. Anderson sighed and her shoulders stooped. She didn’t say anything else, but I could feel her eyes on me as Levi followed me up the stairs. I had never been rude to Mrs. Anderson except I couldn’t stomach what I’d just seen. Couldn’t stomach it at all.

  I locked the door behind me and fell on the bed. Exhaustion weighed me down like I was a stone incapable of moving. I couldn’t even get back up to brush my teeth or get ready for bed. With Levi and Scout by my side, I tumbled into a heavy, deep sleep, clutching a piece of paper with a phone number on it.

  SIXTEEN HOURS later I woke up to light streaming in through the window, my head groggy from sleep. I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and splashed cold water on my face.

  When I got back into the room, I pulled out my cell phone. There was a missed call notice, no voice mail, but a text from Mike. The text read:

  Can we talk?

  There were several calls from Miss J. followed by two of her texts:

  Call me. I have news.

  She has news? I bit my lip.

  Another text:

  Are you not awake yet? Call me.

  Was it good news?

  It must be good news.

  Please let it be good news.

  It took two tries to hit the call back button.

  “Rowan, it’s about time!” She sounded like she’d had too much coffee.

  “Sorry. Yesterday was a long day.” I didn’t come right out and ask why she’d wanted me to call. If I was wrong and it wasn’t the news I wanted, I could wait to know that.

  “Something came in the mail.”

  “Did you open it?”

  “No. Do you want to meet so I can give it to you?”

  “No. Open it. Which school is it from?”

  “Berkeley.”

  My breath caught.

  “And Rowan, it’s a thick envelope. I have a good feeling about this.” Her voice rose and dipped like she was singing.

  “Open it!” Her excitement was contagious. I closed my eyes and dropped to my knees beside the bed. It seemed like hours passed as I heard the envelope rip and papers rustle.

  Oh no. I didn’t get in. She’s taking too long to tell me. Or I got in but they didn’t offer me a scholarship. My heart stopped beating.

  “You got a full ride.”

  I fell over onto the carpet.

  “Rowan? Are you there? Full ride to Berkeley Mountain College. Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you.” My voice was a whisper, muffled by the carpet.

  “Congratulations! I knew you could do it.”

  She always did have faith that I could do it. It was me who wasn’t sure.

  I started to cry.

  SOMETIME LATER, I hung up with Miss J. and pulled out the piece of paper that she had given me yesterday. There was a number written on it and I dialed with shaky fingers.

  “Hi,” I said when the person on the other end picked up. “I’m interested in the two bedroom apartment for rent. Has anyone taken it?” I already sounded older, more adult-like. I could see the next four years laid out before me with a clear, golden path lighting the way.

  I chewed the end of my pen as I listened. When I hung up, I skipped down the stairs. No one was in the kitchen, so I darted in and grabbed a granola bar to eat on the way to school, feeling hunger pains for the first time in months.

  I LOOKED for Jess but she hadn’t bothered to come to school again. During study hall, I sent her a text.

  Are you okay?

  She didn’t respond. I stepped outside and called her cell. She didn’t pick up. Worry scratched at my good mood and hung with me the rest of the day. After two more texts and two more phone calls, I left after school and drove to the bookstore. Even if she hadn’t gone to school, there was a good chance she would be at work. She loved being around books as much as I loved being around animals.

  As I drove down Main Street, I saw her walking down the sidewalk. Her head was bent down, hands shoved in her pockets, and her blonde hair was covered by a hood.

  “Jess!” I called out my window, pulling into a parking space.

  She stopped and peered at me from the side of the hood. Her cheeks were streaked with black eye liner and mascara. Red lipstick was smeared over her skin making her look like a demented doll. After seeing her with softer makeup the other day, it was a shock to see her back this way.

  “What’s wrong?” I demanded, panicked.

  She wiped her nose with her hand. “I talked to Paul.”

  “Yeah?”r />
  “He’s not coming back.”

  My eyes narrowed. “But, Jess, didn’t we already know that?”

  Tears wove clear paths over the black streaks. She clenched her lips and shook her head. I realized she had never lost hope that he would come back. I hadn’t held that same feeling, but I should’ve known that she would.

  “He told you he’s definitely not coming back?”

  She hiccupped. “He said he found a job. And he’s started seeing someone else. Someone closer to his age.”

  My hatred of Paul multiplied ten times over. “Did he say anything about the baby?”

  “Prove it.”

  “He said prove it?”

  “He told me to prove the baby is his and then he’ll talk about child support. And I even told him it was a boy.” Her knees buckled, and she curled down over her knees. “Oh my God. What am I going to do?”

  I crouched down and put my arms around her. My own tears fell into her hair. “I’m so sorry, Jess.”

  “I’m going to have to tell Dad. He’s going to kill me.”

  “Jessica? Are you okay?” A male voice boomed over our heads. Mr. Sumners was standing over us, his paunch belly rounder than it was the last time I saw him.

  Jess wiped her eyes and stood. Her boss looked from her to me and back again. Jess, her hands shoved back in her pockets, pulled her jacket open, revealing the swell of her belly. “I’m pregnant.”

  He stared at her a moment. “I see.” He looked at me but said nothing. “Does your father know?”

  She snorted. “No. Not yet. I’m sure you’ll hear him yelling all the way down here when he finds out.”

  Mr. Sumners put his hands to his mouth and blew warm air into them. “Come inside. I’ll make some tea. Decaf.”

  We followed him through the door of the bookstore, a blast of overly warm air hitting us in the face. There were even more books inside than the last time I was here, lining the walls in thigh-high piles that made the walkway so narrow, I was surprised Mr. Sumners could weave his way through.