Page 61 of Brody
“And then you lost her completely,” I said.
“Yes.I was seventeen years old.The funeral was on a Tuesday.By Wednesday, I was alone in our house.”Her voice had gone flat, clinical, as if reciting facts about someone else’s life.“Called my grandmother, thinking surely she’d come get me.”
“But she didn’t,” I said softly, already knowing the answer from what she’d told me before.
“She told me I was old enough to manage on my own.Said my mother had made her choices, and now I had to make mine.”Her bitter laugh held no humor, just old pain.“So I did.Got myself through three doctoral programs.Built a career.I learned that depending on anyone was a luxury I couldn’t afford.”
There were parallels between our stories.Both abandoned by parents.Both taken in by women who shaped our futures, Una with her love, Tabia with her rejection.Both of us building lives designed to prevent further pain.
I reached over for my pack, pulling out Una’s weathered leather journal.The binding was cracked with age, the pages yellowed and stained with what looked like decades of herbal extracts.It was my most precious possession, the last tangible piece of the woman who had saved me.
I gently opened Una’s journal to a marked page, angling it so the firelight illuminated the faded writing.“See these diagrams?They’re barely legible now, but she was trying to map how the plants near the COL supposedly grew in concentric circles.The pages are damaged, but you can just make out her theory that those plants were arranged in a meaningful pattern.”
Rozi leaned closer to see, her shoulder almost touching mine.Her scent intensified, jasmine and vanilla with the underlying musk that was uniquely hers, filling my lungs until I could taste her on my tongue.My wolf slammed against my control, pacing restlessly beneath my skin.Mate, so close, finally close.
I tightened my fingers on the journal, claws threatening to emerge.One inch.That’s all it would take to close the distance, to feel her skin against mine.
“I can barely make it out,” she said, her focus entirely on the journal, seemingly oblivious to the war raging inside me.But the wild cadence visible at the base of her throat betrayed her.She wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended to be.“But what’s visible is fascinating.She wasn’t just collecting recipes, she was mapping ecological relationships.”
I wanted to freeze this moment, Rozi with her guard down, passionate, leaning toward me without fear or anger.
“When I visited the COL last time with Quinn and Mack, I tried to find these circles of plants she described, but I couldn’t locate them,” I admitted, frustration coloring my voice.“We were focused on getting the water, and I didn’t know what I was looking for exactly.Without the complete diagram, it’s like trying to solve a puzzle with most of the pieces missing.”
Rozi’s fingers hovered just above the page, not quite touching the fragile paper.The careful respect in the gesture made my chest tighten with emotion.
“There’s a pattern here though,” she said, her analytical mind making connections I never could.“Even from these fragments, I can see she was documenting something systematic.”
Pride swelled in my chest, not for myself but for Una and her work that Rozi so clearly respected.“She used to say nature doesn’t create random arrangements, that everything has purpose if you know how to see it.”
Rozi looked up, surprise flashing across her features.Our faces were close enough that I could see the warm flecks in her brown eyes and could count each individual eyelash.“My mother used to say something similar.That patterns reveal themselves to those who are patient enough to look.”
“After my father left, Una would take me to a gathering every morning,” I said, the memory warming me from within.“Said the forest had lessons to teach that no classroom could offer.I’d hold her baskets while she collected plants, listening to her explain each one.Why did it grow where it did.How it interacted with plants around it.What it could heal.”
Rozi watched me with genuine interest.“That sounds like an incredible education.”
I nodded, remembering those golden mornings.“It was.I was an angry kid, full of abandonment and rage.But there was something about following her through the woods at dawn, watching how gently she treated every living thing… It changed me.”Una’s voice echoed in my memory, so clear I could almost hear her beside me.“She’d say, ‘Damaged things still have purpose, Brody.Just like you and I.’”
Something in Rozi’s expression shifted, recognition, perhaps, of a truth that resonated with her own experience.The walls she’d built weren’t coming down, not yet, but I could see cracks forming in the foundation.
“After she died, I found handwritten notes tucked into all her plant-identification books,” I continued, my voice softening with the memory.“Little messages meant for me to find.‘Remember to look for healing in unlikely places.’‘The bitterest plants often make the strongest medicine.’She knew she was dying but kept it from me until the end.”
Rozi’s eyes glistened in the firelight, though she blinked rapidly to hide the emotion.“She was preparing you to continue without her.”
I nodded.My throat was tight with feelings I rarely allowed myself to examine.“Una would have respected your mother’s work,” I said quietly.“And she would have been impressed by your research.”
Defensive wariness returned to Rozi’s posture.“You can’t know that.”
“I can,” I insisted gently but firmly.“Because she taught me to recognize brilliance when I see it.And to respect dedication born from pain.”I hesitated, knowing what I was about to say might push her away again but needing her to understand.“She’s the one who told me I should look for you.After I came back from Kenya.She said mate bonds don’t happen by accident.”
Rozi tensed visibly, her body language closing her off again.“But you didn’t.”
The accusation was righteous and deserved.“No.I was still too afraid.I convinced myself you were better off without me.”I offered a self-deprecating smile that felt more like a grimace.“Turns out the universe has a way of course-correcting our mistakes.Here we are anyway, years later.”
Dying of the same fear that drove me away from you, I thought but didn’t say.My trembling left hand was evidence enough of the price I was paying.
The silence stretched between us, filled with all the things neither of us was ready to say.The fire crackled and popped, sending shadows dancing across Rozi’s face, highlighting the elegant curve of her cheekbone, the fullness of her lips.
After what felt like an eternity, she spoke.“I was accepted to Oxford when I was sixteen.Full scholarship.It was my dream.”
