Skies Like These (11 page)

“That means not very well known,” Jade explained.

“That's not true.”

“It was one of my spelling words last year,” Jade said. “I'm pretty sure that's the definition.”

Angelo let out another scratchy laugh. “Not the definition,” he said. “I was referring to the
obscure
part.
Robinson Crusoe
has influenced more of our modern culture than you know.”

Jade turned the book over in her hands. “Really?”

“Sure,” Angelo said, going back to a steady rocking of his chair. “It was the first novel written about being stranded somewhere. There's a whole group of stories and movies based on it. Think of movies like
Life of Pi
or
Cast Away
or
The Island of Dr. Moreau
. Think of television shows like
Survivor
or
Lost
or even
Gilligan's Island
.”

“Wow,” Jade said.

“People call those kinds of shows robinsonade because their basic concept comes from that book you have right there. Have you ever played the game
Let's say you're stranded on a desert island…?
”

“What three people or books or things would you want with you?”
Jade asked.

“Yep.” Angelo grinned. “It all comes from Crusoe.”

“How do you know that?”

“You'd be amazed how many books I've read since being relegated to this chair.” Angelo gave a pat to the worn arm of his rocker. “And believe me when I say that that
obscure
book you're reading summarizes what everyone wants in life.”

Just then, the screen door squeaked open and Tilly came out carrying a tray of orange juice. “I took the liberty of calling Elise and letting her know you came by for a visit.” She carried the tray to the opposite side of the porch and began pouring the juice into glasses.

Jade leaned in to Angelo, curious. “What does everyone want?”

“Adventure, of course.” The words had barely fallen out when he crouched over and heaved in a jerky breath. His face turned as pink as the crocheted blanket Tilly had draped across his lap. Coughs tumbled out one after another. Tilly ran to his side and began slapping him firmly on the back, right between his broad shoulders. “Fine,” he gasped between coughs. “I'm fine.”

“Don't go scaring me like that, old man,” Tilly said, worry twisted up on her brow.

Angelo's breath steadied. “Who are you calling an old man, old woman?”

Tilly shook her head. “Incorrigible.”

And just like that, Angelo was back to grinning and rocking and lacing his leathered fingers through his beard.

 

21

Only a week after Jade pinned those flyers across Wellington, her aunt came dancing into her bedroom. “Morning Glory,” Aunt Elise sang out as she pulled the maroon-checkered curtains open. “We have big work to do. Big work!”

Jade squinted against the bright sun and looked at the clock on her bed stand: 9:07.

Roy would be expecting her at Farley's. They had been mucking out stalls every day this past week. After their first day, Roy had gone to Farley's earlier and earlier, saying he was infiltrating Farley's world and helping his family in the process. Jade had a hard time understanding how shoveling manure in the scorching summer heat would help Mr. Parker reopen County Hardware. Still, she forced herself to join Roy whenever she could, but never before ten. It was summer vacation, after all.

Aunt Elise stood over the bed. “Guess what kind of phone call I got this morning?”

Jade mumbled something incoherent.

“It was a mother looking to book her daughter's birthday party on my roof.” Aunt Elise couldn't contain herself. “For this Friday night! Can you believe it? There will be five girls, all ten years old, plus the mother. I'll teach and you'll bake. I hope you don't mind but I offered up your services to bake a cake.”

“I've never made a birthday cake before.”

“There has to be a first time for everything and I know you can do it.”

Jade pressed her fist to her eyes and yawned. “Okay. How much did you charge for the cake service?”

Aunt Elise tilted her head to the side. “Here's the thing.”

The moment those words came out, Jade knew it was bad.

“She was so excited about booking the party but said she only had enough money for her and her daughter. Isn't that terrible? Her tenth birthday and she wouldn't have a single friend attend. Anyway,” Aunt Elise prattled on, folding the covers back and helping Jade sit up, “I told her to invite as many as four additional guests and not to worry about the money. That's when I had the idea to have you bake the cake. Isn't that wonderful?”

“But the whole point was to earn money for the Parkers. Six people would have made nearly a hundred dollars, plus you could have easily charged another thirty or so for the food. Why would you tell her not to pay you?”

“You're right. I should have thought it out more. But one event on my roof isn't going to make or break County Hardware.” Her aunt was radiating joy. “I'm going to be an astronomy teacher. Me—a teacher!”

Jade flopped back on her bed. “Even a teacher gets paid.”

“I honestly thought you'd be excited about this.” The words were like delicate pieces of glass floating in the air.

Jade sat back up and put on a smile. “If they tell their friends, it could bring us more customers. Maybe it will be good advertising.”

Aunt Elise raised her hand. “And I swear to be more business savvy from now on.”

Jade wanted to believe her aunt, but doubt laced itself around that promise. “You'll be great,” she said.

“We!” Aunt Elise twirled around the room in a dance. “We will be great together.”

They ate a breakfast of cold cereal and then Aunt Elise pushed a piece of paper across the table toward Jade. “I've got some important errands to take care of this morning,” she said. “Here are a few things you can help out with. Once the list is done, the day is yours.”

“I'm supposed to hang out with Roy. Or maybe I could come with you.” Jade was thinking how nice it would be to have an excuse not to join Roy over at Farley's ranch. “We can get the stuff for the birthday cake on our way home.”

Aunt Elise stood up. “You'd be bored to tears if you came with me. I'll be at the dentist's office with the awful, oppressive smell of plastic and mouthwash and those painfully bright fluorescent lights. No, you take care of feeding the dogs and poop-scooping the kennels.”

“Which is way more fun.”

“Agreed.” Aunt Elise grabbed her braided-rope satchel and headed out the back door.

Jade followed and watched from the doorway as Aunt Elise revved the old Lincoln and headed down the driveway in front of a yapping cluster of dogs.

When the gate was shut behind the car, the dogs turned back to Jade. Astro led the pack, coming up and nudging his head under her elbow for a pet. She ran her fingers along the base of his ears. Short brown fur shed onto her hands in clumps. “You need another good brushing in all this heat,” she said.

Astro licked his teeth noisily and sat down with a
harrumph
. His oversize tongue hung out of his mouth and strings of drool dangled from his chin.

“And a bib,” Jade added.

Astro shook his head, flinging those thick cords of drool through the air and onto her nightshirt.

“Gross,” Jade said, stepping back.

Astro raised his chin and pulled the sides of his mouth back into a satisfied smile.

“You think that's funny?”

Astro lowered his head and smacked a massive paw to the ground. Then he looked up and did that smile thing again.

Jade slowly sidestepped over to the corner of the house. “You're hilarious,” she teased, spinning around to grab the garden hose. She turned the nozzle on, sending a stream of water barreling through the morning air, landing right at Astro's feet.

The dog jumped and danced and, as the blazing sky was her witness, laughed—jaw hanging open, tail wheeling and spinning through the air—unmistakable laughter.

Jade laughed, too. Deep and soulful, toes to fingertips. She whirled the garden hose in waves and spun it in spirals and danced right alongside Astro and the other dogs, who had joined in the water play. She snickered and chortled and hooted and giggled and, finally, she fell down on a small patch of grass lining Aunt Elise's front walk, exhausted.

Astro stood over her, panting. His breath was steamy and spiked with the saltiness of cheap kibble. Then he lay down, like a mountain, gently rolling into her side, and nudged his head up against her shoulder.

The other dogs lapped at the puddles and stretched out in the sunshine.

Jade kept her eyes closed and her smile wide.

Wyoming had turned out to be everything her aunt had promised.

 

22

Jade decided to take a roundabout way to meet Roy at Farley's ranch. She stopped by the YMCA to see if they needed more of her aunt's stargazing-course flyers. Standing there in front of the community bulletin board, surrounded by squawking children and the loud
thumps
of a basketball in the gymnasium, she found the perfect solution to County Hardware's problem:

W
ELLINGTON'S
J
UNIPER
F
ESTIVAL

J
ULY
27

C
OWBOY
P
OETRY
C
ONTEST

G
RAND
P
RIZE:
$2,500

“You dropping off more of those flyers?” Sandy, the YMCA receptionist, was reaching her hand out. “They go like hotcakes. Have you had any calls?”

“We have our first booking,” Jade said.

“Doesn't surprise me a bit. Elise Bennett knows a thing or two about stargazing. I've been doing my best to talk it up as folks come through. Maybe I should come by and get a firsthand peek at what you ladies are doing over there.”

Jade was still mesmerized by the announcement hanging in front of her. “What?” she said. “Oh, sure. You should come by.” She tapped a finger on the flyer. “Is this for anyone?”

Sandy came over from behind the counter. “Sure is,” she said. “We take our cowboy poetry seriously around here but I suppose anyone is welcome to enter.”

“And they pay someone twenty-five hundred dollars for writing a poem?”

“Oh no,” Sandy said. “Not any poem. It has to capture what we love about living out here in the West. I'm telling you, it's a real show.”

Jade's heart started skipping. “Does it have to be one person, or can two work together?”

Sandy peered at the crinkled paper pinned to the corkboard. “Doesn't say. I imagine they'd allow a double entry. Why?”

“I have an idea for the perfect duo.” Jade noticed there were multiple flyers on the same pin. “Can I take one of these?”

“Knock yourself out,” Sandy said, going back behind the counter. “But you don't have much time. The twenty-seventh is the end of next week.”

Jade crammed a flyer into her pocket, thanked Sandy, and took off to find Roy.

*   *   *

When she got to Farley's barn it was just after two o'clock and she noticed how the hay was stacked in perfect rows off to the side, the main aisles were swept clean, and the stable doors were scrubbed, shining like new. “You've been busy today.”

“I had given up on you,” Roy said.

“Aunt Elise gave me a long list of chores and then I went by the YMCA.”

“That's okay,” Roy said. “Guess what? Farley said if I keep up the good work he'll let me move out of the stables and into the fields.”

“To ride and wrangle?” Jade asked with a grin.

“I don't like working for a guy like Farley.” Roy looked earnest. “But if I'm gonna be here checking things out, I might as well make the best of my time.”

Jade wondered who he was trying to convince.

Roy walked to the window overlooking the main horse pasture. The expression on his face said it all. He was dying to sit high in a saddle. Aching to feel the wind on his face and the reins in his hands.

“Have you ever been on a real horse, Roy?”

“When I was four I got to ride one of those ponies that go 'round and 'round in a circle at the state fair. You know, the ones that are too fat and old so they tie them into that contraption and sell rides for two dollars.” He hung his head. “I suppose it doesn't count for much, but I'll never forget that day.”

“How can that be? This is Wyoming. Horses are everywhere. Even the license plates have a picture of that bucking bronco on them. How could you, of all people, go all these years and never get a chance to ride?”

“If you haven't noticed, my parents aren't exactly the riding type.”

Jade took the paper from her pocket and held it out. “Look at what I found on the YMCA's bulletin board.”

“The Juniper Festival,” he said. “We go every year.”

“More than the festival.
This
.” She pointed to the section about the cowboy poetry. “Twenty-five hundred dollars goes to the winner. That's a whole summer of shoveling manure over here.”

“Are you feeling poetic?”

“Your mom is a poet, Roy!”

“My mom writes about political stuff like America's indifference to third-world countries. This”—he shook the paper—“has to be about cowboy life.”

“That's the beauty of it! You know everything there is to know about being a cowboy. You can help her write the winning poem.”

Gears started to turn in Roy's head—Jade could see it. “Maybe,” he said.