Page 21 of Love, Magic and Misfortune
Hesitating, she walked down the narrow path, the greenhouse and its plants eerily still around her despite the rushing, howling wind outside. The structure creaked and moaned from the pressure, and Violet jumped when the door behind her creaked open and banged shut again from the suction. Another section of glass fell, loudly smashing against the cement floor.
As she approached the end of the row, an entire section of the long planter was cleared out: hastily, sloppily, because Violet could still see roots and stems sticking out of the soil. Messy footprints and squished leaves lay scattered across the floor.
In the silence, Violet stood straight. She deliberated only for a moment, then huffed out a laugh. “Well, that’s one thing that’s been taken off my plate.” That, as well as her potential career as a drug lord within her small commune.
The marijuana was gone.
10
Then
Violet picked up each empty cup and counted,one-two-three, then placed them in front of her new friend. At least, she was hoping they were friends, because he always sat with her when they had math lessons on the carpet, and almost always played with her at recess.
Everyone else stayed away from him and said he was weird. That his family was weird, too. And rich. But as far as Violet could see, he was really nice. She liked him.
“Okay, here are yours.” She pointed to the cups she’d placed in front of him. “These are mine. I have three and you have three.”
Her new friend frowned, pursing his small mouth. “You kept all the pretty colors.”
“I didn’t.”
“Youdid,” he said, then pointed. “Can I have purple? I’ll trade you for green.”
“But purple is a girl’s color.”
“It’s not. It’s just a color. Can we trade?”
“Yeah, okay.” She shrugged. “I like green.” She picked up her purple cup and switched it out for his green. “Better?”
He grinned, nodding his head as if there was music in there that Violet couldn’t hear. “Mmhm.”
“Okay, now we fill each cup with sand,” she explained. “And we turn them over and try to stack them on top of each other. Let’s see who can make the tallest castle.”
Violet’s eyes widened with excitement. But her friend… his nose only crinkled up again. “What is it now?” she asked.
“If we make a castle together, it’ll be much better. We should see how high we can make it withallthe cups.”
Violet tilted her head. She liked that idea very much. When she and her sister did this back in California, it was always a competition. But working together… That might be fun, too.
“Okay, let’s do it—”
“Violet,watch out!”
In a flash, Jasper rose from his seated position in the sand, leaned forward and reached for her. He grabbed hold of her wrist and yanked her forward, causing her to flop onto her belly in the dusty dirt beside him and knocking the wind out of her. She climbed onto hands and knees, turning her head to look back. Jasper now had sand all over his dark head—in his hair, trickling down to his shoulders and over his face. Freddie Martin stood over him with a large blue bucket in his hands, his eyes wide.
Jasper coughed, causing the sand to slink and pour down underneath the collar of his shirt. He hunched his shoulders, shuddering. Violet scrambled upright, dusting out Jasper’s hair as he kept his eyes clenched shut. She looked up at Freddie standing over them. He had a strange look on his face. Violet scowled. “You big meandummy.”
As if her words had shocked him into action, he dropped the bucket and ran away. When Jasper’s hair was mostly clear, she brushed his face with her palms before grabbing his hand. She pulled him up to stand. “Let’s go inside to get help. Don’t open your eyes, okay?”
11
Now
When’s the last time I painted something…
Sitting back and relaxing against the couch, Violet’s body felt at ease for the first time in weeks. As a result, her mind wandered. Not strictly focused on the past: her heart aching as memories of her Gram flashed like vibrant moving images from a photo album—in full color, because Gloria Marie’s life was not that of a black-and-white or sepia-toned album. Absolutely not.
Today, and in this quiet moment within Jasper’s study, Violet thought of the future, as if cautiously peeking one eye open toward hope and possibility. She thought of a blank canvas, or a sketch pad, and how the potential there had always excited her. It represented infinite opportunity. What could she create? How could she forever alter the canvas with her own imagination? Opening herself to inspiration—letting it sweep her away as it had when she was a child, when her mind was unburdened by adult responsibilities, fears and hesitations—what could she produce? It had been forever since she’d given herself the space to try.
