Page 27 of Scythe & Sparrow
I wanted to thank you. I was afraid. But I was more afraid of what would happen if I never took flight. Thank you for giving me my wings back.
Sincerely,
M
I can’t know for sure what the note means. But I think after the last few days, and given the row of plants on her dresser, I might have a clue.
I take one last look around the hidden garden of my guest room and leave, stalking out of the house with my bag of yarn and my half-finished blanket and my crochet hooks slung over my shoulder.
When I make it to Sandra’s house four blocks away, I don’t know if I’d rather turn around and go home to stew in my morose confusion or immerse myself in the Suture Sisters gossip in the fragile hope of taking my mind off Rose.
And that hope is immediately shattered when I enter Sandra’s home.
“Hey, Doc. How’s it hangin’?”
I come to a dead stop in Sandra’s foyer, my jaw slack, my expression dumbfounded. Rose is surrounded by the Suture Sisters crochet group, her leg propped up on an ottoman and a backpack resting next to her on the floor. A sly grin spreads across Rose’sface as she watches me standing motionless like a malfunctioning robot, my brain seemingly detached from my body.
“Dr. Kane,” Sandra says, and I finally break my gaze away from Rose when the host of our club swans into view. Her petite hand wraps around my wrist and she tows me into the living room. “Your friend Rose has come to join us today. Turns out, she’s an avid crocheter, did you know that?”
“No,” I reply as she leads me to the chair across from Rose and passes me a glass of lemonade. “I did not know that.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘avid,’ necessarily.” Rose’s eyes don’t leave mine as she leans forward to grab her bag from the floor and opens it, withdrawing a ball of black yarn and a set of crochet hooks. “My gran taught me growing up, and I like to dabble from time to time. But I might be a little out of practice. I’m probably not as good as Doc.”
The other Suture Sisters eat that shit up. Maude and Tina let out synchronizedawws from where they sit on a velvet love seat as Liza, the group’s most voracious gossip, snorts a laugh, reaching over to pat Rose’s arm with her liver-spotted hand. “You’re far too kind, Rosie dear.”
Rose doesn’t correct her on the mispronunciation of her name. Quite the opposite, in fact. With the way she beams a devious little smirk at me, I’m pretty sure she’s already earned “Rosie” as a nickname, despite the fact she’s been here all of two seconds and doesn’t know these women. How the fuck did she get here andwhy the hell is this simultaneously grinding my gears and adorable and hot as fuck?It’s like she’s set off a bomb in my thoughts, and now they’re scattered everywhere, a mess I can’t hope to make sense of.
And she’s loving every second of it.
“I’ve seen your doilies,” Rose whispers, her eyes still latched to mine, innocent and wide, though the gleam in them is pure mischief. “I thought the one in the living room was really good.”
“Bless your heart,” Sandra says as she tops up Rose’s lemonade. Then she sits down next to Maude, who’s the quietest of the bunch, her focus captured by the work of her hands. “Dr. Kane—”
“Fionn, please.”
“Fionn.You didn’t tell us you had such a delightful young lady staying at your home.”
Maude and Tina share a weighted glance. Liza grins down into her yarn.
“Yes … well …” I clear my throat, trying to avoid the burn of Rose’s gaze on my face. I pull my yarn and hooks from my bag, laying them out on my lap before I start my first stitch. “Rose had an accident and needed a place to recover. So, here we are.”
“She told us. A motorcycle accident. Such a shame, but you can stay as long as you like—”
“I’ll have to get back to the circus as soon as I’m healed,” Rose interjects, as though she’s saving me from an explanation I’m ill-prepared to give. To be honest, I've felt ill-prepared for all the moments that have passed since I walked through Sandra’s door this morning, but I feel even more blindsided by the wave of disappointment at the prospect of her departure. “I’m sure Fionn will grow tired of my antics soon enough anyway.”
I snort.
“Nonsense, dear. I’m pretty sure our good doctor has had more excitement in the last few days than he has in the last few years. Isn’t that right, dear?” Sandra says, her gray eyebrows hiked halfway up her forehead as she pins her gaze on me.
Before I can answer, Liza leans forward in her chair, her eyes darting from one person to the next. “Speaking of excitement, have you heard about that Donovan boy?”
My heart stops beating and drops through my guts. When I look at Rose, the color has drained from her face, but she does an admirable job of staying composed as the Suture Sisters speak over one another with questions that Liza can’t keep up with to answer.Christina Donovan’s boy? The one in Weyburn? I thought she had two boys, which one is it? Did someone finally throw them in jail?
“Eric. The younger one. He’s missing,” Liza finally gets out, and the other women gasp andtsk. “Last anyone saw him, he was buying some beer. Told some friends he was going fishing but didn’t say where. He never showed up for work and he’s not answering his phone. Just … disappeared.”
Panic still crawls through my veins, but at least my heart restarts when it settles in that he hasn’t been found. I make some agreeable noises when they say how sad it is for Christina or that he probably just went on a bender and will turn up in a day or two, but I don’t miss Maude’s muttered words beneath the fray: “Let’s hope he doesn’t come back.” I’m so focused on catching every shred of the rapid-fire chatter that it takes me a moment to feel the weight of Rose’s attention on my face. When I meet her gaze, I see worry in her eyes, and then determination. And frankly, it’s the latter that truly scares me.
The conversation is still churning when Rose taps Sandra on the arm and pushes her crochet work toward her for inspection. “Do you think this yarn will be strong enough?”
