Season of the Dragonflies (15 page)

Willow stared off at a point above Robert's head.

Something was clearly wrong with her mother. Lucia didn't know where to begin or who to talk to first. She hoped the cloud over Mya's head would be gone whenever Mya finally returned to the cabin, because now they had a much bigger issue to deal with together: how to approach Willow about her memory loss. They'd have to confront her, and she'd insist nothing was wrong and that she was too busy to go to a doctor. Much had changed since Lucia last came home, but her mother's stubbornness surely hadn't. Her mother assumed Mya had gone behind her back with that letter to Zoe, but Lucia wondered if maybe Mya did it because Willow wouldn't admit her problem.

“There's not enough time to vet someone new, and I won't have just anybody come in here to work with the plants.” Willow leaned forward in her chair and her voice lowered. “If I have to tell my existing clients I can't provide next year's perfume supply, that'll be it, won't it?”

“We have some in reserve,” Robert said.

“But not enough,” Willow replied. Robert nodded his head as if he knew she would say that. “I'd have to ration it, and what a nightmare that would be. We'd lose customer confidence in our product.”

Lucia held her breath, expecting her mother to explode like she had at home, but instead Willow sat still.

“What happens now?” Lucia asked.

Robert said, “I can go ahead and test another few acres today. Or thin-wash what we have on reserve.”

Willow said, “This isn't good.” She repeated this phrase like she hadn't heard Robert, and Lucia grew even more concerned that her mother was losing her mind. “We can't waste any.”

“Or maybe you can wait a few days,” Lucia said.

“What for?” Willow said.

Lucia moved to the edge of her seat; she needed confidence for this one. “For someone else to check the plants, and I think—”

“No,” Willow said, interrupting. “Absolutely not. No strangers.”

“But he's been around them before,” Lucia said, and the room became very quiet.

Her mother's face looked like a child's as she tried to guess the riddle. She said, “Ben?”

Lucia nodded.

“He's home now, that's true,” Robert said.

“You saw him?” Willow asked her daughter.

“I ran into him earlier today at the market,” Lucia told her.

“I should've told you,” Willow said. “Didn't think you'd be here long enough to see him.”

This wasn't the time to discuss why a warning would've been nice. “You know he's qualified.”

“I could call him,” Robert said. “I know he's busy with his farming and taking care of his mama, but it can't hurt to ask him.”

“Mrs. White?” Lucia couldn't restrain the surprise and concern in her voice. He hadn't mentioned anything about his mother when she saw him.

“She's sick,” Willow said, and Robert nodded.

“With what?”

“Lung cancer, I believe,” Willow said. “I should know for sure but I don't.”

“That's what it is,” Robert agreed.

That explained why Ben was home. If Ben lost his mother, he'd have no one left. An orphan in his thirties. His father had died a few years back, and Willow had called to tell Lucia—one of the rare snippets of Quartz Hollow news that Lucia cared to hear about.

“Go ahead and call him, Robert, but be discreet,” Willow said.

“He's coming over for dinner tomorrow night, and I'm sure he'd take a look then.” The traits Lucia remembered most about Ben were his eagerness to take care of her family and his curiosity about the
Gardenia potentiae
plants. They were what had inspired him to study phytology in the first place.

Willow shot her a look.

“What?”

“You didn't mention it, that's all.”

“It's just to catch up.” The more Lucia tried to convince herself of the innocent nature of the dinner, the more her body tingled at the idea of him.

Willow raised one eyebrow. “Call Bennie for me, Robert.”

“Will do.”

“Mom.”

“What?”

Poor Robert's head kept turning back and forth, like a referee's at a volleyball match.

“He's all grown up, remember?” Lucia said.

“I bet his mother still calls him Bennie.”

With that, Lucia refused to look at her mother again. Willow had wanted Ben to be her son-in-law. She had even planned to finance his education and appoint him the resident plant pathologist in the family. She had wanted Lucia to stay in Quartz Hollow, birth daughters with Ben, and live happily ever after.

Willow stood and said, “Thank you, Robert. We'll see what
Ben
says and I'll let you know about the next step. Postpone the harvest for two days until further notice.”

“I'm sorry to bother you about one more thing, Ms. Lenore,” Robert said as he walked them out. “But do I still pay the extra guys for those days?”

“Of course. Please don't let them go just yet.”

Her mother stepped out of the building, and Robert gently held Lucia's arm and whispered, “I'm so glad you're home,” and gave her a quick hug before letting her go, just like a father might. Because Lucia couldn't remember her own father, who had left before she was born, she often imagined Robert—good, dependable Robert—as her father. He had a brood of five kids and a wife he clearly adored. To be one of those five kids, with a dad who loved her—that's what Lucia had always wanted. Willow was a powerful woman and a good mother most of the time, and she deserved someone to love her like Robert loved his wife.

At the very least, Lucia thought her mother could afford a man like him. Lucia knew they were rich, though their wealth never looked like the ostentatious affluence she saw on television, and as a result she never felt uncomfortable using that term to describe her family. Her mother kept them rich, like her mother before her and Great-Grandmother Serena. Who wouldn't respect mothers like those? And it seemed natural for her mother to deserve a man like Robert with his huge, muscular forearms and buzz cut and smoothly shaven face—a man who opened the door, used his manners, and rescued your car when you ran it off the road; a man who didn't care if you couldn't drive very well. But a man like Robert never came for her mother. Lucia thought she'd found one for herself, but now she sat side by side with Willow in the small cab of this old truck, and they were both alone and dealing with a business matter.

As it always was, so it always would be. Except Lucia didn't want this to be her life, and her mother couldn't possibly want it either. Willow also didn't want a failing memory, but it had struck her. How could any woman control these maladies?

H
AND HOLDING, CHECK
. Popcorn munching, check. Coke sharing, check. Mya went to dinner and a movie, and for Luke that made it all feel official. Mya Lenore had a boyfriend. The theater in town only showed one movie at a time, and the movies were always a year old, sometimes older. Luke insisted on catching the nine
P
.
M
. showing of a film that featured one of Zoe Bennett's first cameos in a summer action movie. Not exactly original, but still, as much as Mya didn't want to admit it, Zoe and her red hair and plump lips demanded attention.

Without much effort or practice or many nights spent pining away for something to happen, Zoe had climbed the talent ladder until the people above her had no idea where she came from, including Lenore Incorporated. But Luke was oblivious. He was simply attracted to Zoe Bennett and had no real idea why. Mya had gifted Zoe this opportunity. A half-million-per-fluid-ounce gift, but a gift nonetheless. Mya had seen a spark in Zoe, and it reminded her of herself. That had been her first mistake.

At one point in the movie Zoe, who notoriously shot all her own action sequences, stood on a tightrope between two Colorado mountains with her enemy approaching from one side. A bullet zoomed toward her chest just as the rope, which she'd set on fire, burned through and sent them both falling. Mya wanted so badly for Zoe to plunge into the river below and perish. Even if it was a fictional moment, it would've made Mya feel better. Alas, her sidekick and soon-to-be lover sailed through the air and caught her before releasing his parachute at the last minute.

The movie dragged on for another hour and a half after that, and it was almost midnight before Mya checked for her phone, only to discover she'd left it at the cabin. Once she arrived home she discovered her voice mail and text message inboxes filled with commands from her mother to come home immediately. It didn't matter. By the time she found her phone, her mother and Lucia had already informed her about the plants. She never did get laid, which seemed like the only possible perk of a date. Not even a make-out session. Just a boyfriend, that's what she got, without the sex. Somehow that seemed exactly right for how her life was going.

Mya sat with her legs crossed on a tree stump the next morning and stared out at the field of flowers. Seven dragonflies sailed overhead, but the deer hadn't come all morning. Nothing seemed particularly wrong with the flowers. They were a little smaller but not drastically so. Maybe it was just a fluke, some misstep with the heat. They'd hired new people last month. From what she could see, she had no idea what else might've happened.

She looked to the pink morning clouds above, and they formed the shape of a giant hand reaching down with an open palm, fingers outstretched; she heard a rustle in the tall grass behind her and turned around. Lucia's black hair whipped in the wind, and she carried two white mugs of coffee. Mya took the mug from her hand and said, “Thanks.” The sun had just begun to peek over the edge of the forest, a lilac hue from the sunrise beaming from behind the clouds.

“See anything?” Lucia said, staring at some point above Mya's head.

She glanced up but nothing was there. “No.”

“But Robert's sure.” Lucia approached a flower and touched a petal.

How could her mother not have an emergency plan for this kind of problem, one that could wipe out the entire business in one season? How many clients would they lose altogether? Would anything remain for Mya? She bit her lower lip. The one and only time she'd agreed to go on a date with Luke, this happened, and Willow had taken Lucia to an emergency meeting in her place.

Lucia stared at her, but just slightly above her head, as if static electricity had caused her hair to stand up straight. Mya looked up and still saw nothing. This tic of Lucia's annoyed her. Mya said, “What's your issue?” Instinctively she patted the top of her head, and then Lucia did the strangest thing: she placed her hand above Mya's head, waving it all around as if trying to catch a firefly. Mya jerked her head back and said, “What's wrong? Is it a dragonfly or something?”

“No,” Lucia said with a tone that made Mya very uneasy, like she was mourning a dead kitten. “It's just . . .”

“What?” Mya looked up again.

Lucia scratched behind one ear and said, “Ever since we were in the workroom with that deer musk . . . ,” and then Lucia took a deep breath and sped up. “Ever since then I see the darkest cloud just above your head, like a deep bruise, and it's freaking me out. I hoped it would be gone by the time I saw you this morning but it's still there.”

“Right now?”

Lucia nodded and tucked her hair behind her tiny ears.

“Did you tell Mom?”

“No,” Lucia said. “I thought maybe I was hallucinating. I hoped so anyway.”

“But you've never had visions.”

“Why would I make it up?” Lucia said. “I have a horrible feeling in my body every time I see it, like I could puke.” She reached out again like she was trying to grip it, but she brought back her hand as empty as before.

Mya bit her fingernail. She wasn't a habitual nail biter, just a nervous chewer. She said, “You have to tell Mom.”

“But she's asleep.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“I'll tell her when she wakes up.”

“No, you'll tell her now,” Mya said, and took Lucia by the hand.

She jerked away. “Stop telling me what to do.”

Lucia wanted to fight at a time like this? What was wrong with her? If some scary image only Mya could see hung above Lucia's head, she would've told her at first sight. Lucia had waited an
entire day
before mentioning it, and now Lucia wanted to complain about Mya's bossing her. Lucia had always had the most ridiculous expectations: acting, New York City, Jonah. Just look at how far those had gotten her. Mya wanted so badly to shout all of this at her, but it would only make matters worse. Instead, Mya took Lucia by the hand again and said, “Please.”

“Please?” Lucia echoed as if she couldn't believe it.

Mya nodded.

“Fine,” Lucia said. “Let's go.”

It really was a magic word. If only Mya had employed it more when they were younger.

WILLOW'S HAIR WAS WRAPPED IN
the white knitted cap she always wore at night, some relic of their grandmother's. Willow didn't
need
to wear it, but Mya believed she did it to be close to her mother. The morning sunlight filtering in through the curtains cut a triangle on Willow's cheek and she looked rather peaceful. Mya wondered how often Willow had gazed at them this very same way when they were babies. A few times Mya remembered waking up and seeing her mother standing in the doorframe gazing at her. Neither Mya nor Lucia wanted to be the first to disturb her. Mya poked her mother's shoulder and then looked for Lucia to do the same. Lucia blew her breath on Willow's face, and their mother grimaced and opened one eye like a cat. Mya looked over to Lucia and said, “Brush your teeth.”