Page 32 of The Heir

As the time finally came to close the shop, I rushed out the door and into Mary’s car, dying to know if Shad had left one of the flowers for me again. After Shad left that night, I went to find the fliers I had made with the meanings of all the different roses and their colors, but they were all gone. I wondered if Mary handed them all out, or if maybe the new college hire tossed them. I was irritated.I remembered what orange stood for, and I thought it was for friendship, so I was pretty disappointed when I saw that he chose that color. Not that I did not want to be his friend, but I wanted to be even more.

Sure enough, as I walked to my car, there was an orange rose there on the hood, exactly where the lavender rose had been. My pulse quickened, and my heart raced. I also noticed that tucked into the windshield wiper was a white piece of paper. I unfolded the carefully folded paper, and there, sprawled in a decorative script which I knew to be Shad’s, I read:Fascination.

I turned the paper over to see if there was anything else written there, but there was nothing. I frowned.Well, at least it’s better than friendship? He is fascinated with me? Is that reallya compliment?Like he could be fascinated with me because I am an idiot, because I am an orphan, a horrible math student, or for any number of reasons, right?I shoved the small piece of paper into my pocket, definitely disappointed, and picked up the rose, smelling the sweetness of its scent, letting the petals caress my lips, telling myself that Shad had chosen that specific bloom just for me, and the frown quickly turned into a smile.

Chapter Eleven

My phone alarm buzzed for the third time that morning. Unable to stay in bed any longer or I would be late, I sat up. As I checked my phone, I confirmed that Ryker had texted me the night before and wanted to hang out at his house for a bit after school. I hadn't hung out with just him in what seemed like forever, and I was looking forward to it—as long as he doesn’t talk about my dating life.Things were different with him. We had never been more disconnected from each other before, and I missed him.

“Emma?” Mary called from the hallway.

“Yes, I am up!” I answered, as she opened my door.

“Good morning, Emma. I wanted to let you know that I’m heading to the shop.”

“Okay,” I said as I sat up and pulled the tangled blankets and sheets from around me.

“Also, I noticed you haven't finished going through your parents' things, and I wondered if you were okay, if there was anything you wanted to talk about.” She locked eyes with me—her voice hopeful, her eyes worried. I noticed she was twisting her hands around each other.

I shook my head,no.What is she hinting at?

“No, I’m okay; I guess I kind of forgot because of school,” I replied, finally freeing myself from the blankets’ restraints and climbing out of the bed. I felt like the worst daughter.How could I just forget about all their priceless things like that? Shad shows up, and I blow them off?I stopped myself and looked at Mary as she began to speak.

“No, Emma, that is great. I’m glad you are having a more normal year. I just wondered; that’s all. Take as long as you like.” She smiled, said goodbye, and walked down the hall. I told myself that I had not forgotten about them, just been a little distracted. That thought made my guilt less sharp. I stood up and tried to find something to wear.

Once I found my clothes, which took all of five minutes, I stared at my dresser, where I had placed the box of letters my father had written to my mother. Looking at the clock on my nightstand, I noted that I had an extra ten minutes. I opened the lid of the box and pulled out the next letter. Again, it was old, and the envelope was faded.

My Dearest Ara,

The time we have spent apart, while I have been searching for home, has been horrible. How will I go on? We move from town to town and are still unable to find it. I worry that we may never, and yet, I have such sweet hope in you, in us. I do wish to be home—however, every night, as I stare out into the stars, I realize that I have everything under them, not in them, and I am grateful for it. Ryker thinks we should come back to you soon, and I agree. I hope you and Mary are well.

All my love,

Lamont

Ryker?I flipped the paper over, wondering if a date was posted on the letter somewhere.Perhaps, it is not such an old letter, and yet, why would Ryker be with my father, alone, looking for something? Were they looking for a house to buy? A house where they previously lived? If so, why was it not where it was when they lived in it? And again, why was Ryker there? How could he have been there?There was no mention of me, only of Mary. That made me wonder if I had not yet been born.Then Ryker couldn’t have been there.I stared at the paper in complete and total confusion as the ten minutes I had to spare before school ran out, and I had to leave.

Shad explained the math assignment to me for most of the period, and while I loved how he scooted his chair so close to mine so that they almost touched and that when he leaned over my work I could smell his scent of mint and leather, I also felt like an idiot because math and I seemed to continue our hate of each other, and I hated that Shad saw that weakness of mine. Every time our fingers brushed or our shoulders touched, jolts flowed through my body, and I tried to calm myself down, but I was finding it extremely difficult with that song I had created for Shad blaring in my head, ever on repeat. I really felt like I was losing it. Shad chuckled as if he could sense my internal struggle.

“Here, let me show you.” He took his pencil, sketched out the problem, graphing the equation in just one minute. I leaned back in my chair, frustrated.

“Well, easy for you without the song playing over and over; I can barely think in here,” I said, irritated and tapping my head. Shad looked at me, and I clasped a hand over my mouth.

“Song? Are you listening to music or something?” he asked, confused as he looked at my ears.

I tried to think of something, anything, to say that could explain my stupid words.

“Uh, no, I mean, no music. I just have a song I heard this morning stuck in my head, and I cannot get it out.” I shrugged, giving myself a mental pat on the back for that one. Good job, Emma, I smiled, extremely proud.

“What song?” he asked, moving dangerously close to me. I groaned inwardly. Of course, he would be curious.

“Oh, that is the thing; I cannot remember the name or the words, just the melody and harmony.”

Shad’s eyebrows rose; his lips puckered as if in curious thought. “Hum it,” he requested, pulling away and crossing his arms across his chest. “If, in fact, this song is keeping you from grasping this equation, let me help you.” He looked extremely amused, and it irritated me, because I was tryingnotto look like an idiot, and he seemednotto get the memo.

“Oh, no, really—you don't have to do that. I am not a good singer, and I have no tone, so you wouldn't even know the song; plus, I just think it isn't that important. Not like music isn't important or the song in general—because it is. I mean, it is important to me, but I think that, well—” I closed my mouth, forcing the words to stop.

Shad chuckled, “I love that.”