Goldilocks Forever

Chapter 48

Ithaca, New York

July 2006

"What a storm!" Tom said as he scraped margarine onto his toast.

She padded over to the fridge and pulled her hoodie tighter. "What storm?"

"You didn't hear it? It shook the house and went on for about an hour last night." Tom blew on his coffee. "I need to go check on my roses."

Anna grinned. Those roses were his real babies. She finished her breakfast and dressed to go help him in the garden. The recent stretch of perfect summer days—not too hot, not too humid—coaxed the flowers of the carefully planted and sectioned backyard into a plethora of blooms. Rosebushes of all colors erupted into an explosion of color and fragrance. The grass was thick and lushly green against her bare feet.

Tom looked up with surprise as she approached.

"Need help?" She looked down at the bent stalks of the hedges against the back wall of the garden. The roses were forlorn and limp from rain and wind abuse.

"Yes, that'd be great. Can you gather up those broken bits?"

She bent to reach the scattered debris on the grass. As she did, a wave of nausea rose into her throat. She swallowed it back and stood with a handful of stalks. Thorns pierced her palms.

Tom glanced over at her. "You okay?" He pointed to her hands. "There are some extra gloves in the garage."

She went to retrieve them and only when she was alone in the garage did she look down at the bloody spots on her hands from where the thorns had cut her. The cuts were already healing over, but her blood remained. Her blood. How much of Goldilocks Forever was enough to make him sick? How much would it take to infect him? If she accidentally touched him... She washed her hands before putting the gloves on and returning to the garden.

The air was thick with humidity and the overpowering smell of the roses. She inhaled a sticky, sweet breath and steadied herself before continuing her work. They worked in silence for a while, Tom pruning and cutting away the bent stems and tossing them into the grass for her to gather.

Despite her heavy and long sleep the previous night, the work wore on her. She paused several times until waves of dizziness passed. Her father didn't notice. His phone vibrated in his pocket. She watched him pull it out and check it. He smiled as he stared down at it.

That look. 

"Since when do you bring your phone out to the garden with you?" Anna tossed a bundle of  stems into the trash bin. "I thought the garden was your 'sanctuary'." He stashed the phone back into the pocket of his jeans again. "Are you expecting a call or something?"

"No." He smiled at her. "But speaking of calls, I heard you on the phone with Grant the other day."

Nice try, Dad. So they'd both been paying attention to each other's calls, and now he was deflecting the question.

"He said I might be able to come back and be a part of the fall program as a soloist." She paused. "I have to audition and prove myself first." She watched his reaction.

He still wore the same lingering smile. Since when did he text message? He always complained the keys of the phone were too tiny. "That shouldn't be any problem. You'll do great. When is your audition?"

"Three weeks."

He snipped a thick stem with a crack that sent a bower of wilted blooms cascading to the grass with a rain of pink petals. The hedge of roses already looked less profuse and impressive than it did before.