“But are you sorry for that?”
“I …”
I hesitate, thinking about that question. I feel guilty, yes, but I can’t get Sol’s voice out of my head, giving me all the reasons the fire was necessary. I did it for him, for this family, for Rose. I did it to keep them safe. And so I can stay here. So I won’t be cast out again. Am I sorry for that?
“I don’t know,” I finally say.
Shepushes her hair out of her face and looks up at me again. “The Iris I thought I knew wouldn’t have burned that building. But … maybe I don’t know you.”
“I don’t think I know me, either.”
It isn’t until I hear the words leave my lips that I know they are true. The weight of them, the awkward realization of what that means, settles heavily on my shoulders. I move slowly, sluggishly, over to my mattress and sink down among the quilts.
She watches me from her place by the window. Not moving. Not speaking. Again, just waiting. Forcing me to fill the silence.
“I … I do feel bad about the grocery store,” I say again. “But I also feel guilty about feeling bad, because Sol said it was the right thing to do, for all of us. Foryou. But then I keep imagining Mr. Brophy’s face when he sees the store’s damage, or him not having the money to survive, and … it haunts me. I just wish he’d never called in that wellness check. Or that I’d never screwed up and been caught stealing. Then none of us would be in this mess.”
Rose comes over to the mattress and lowers herself to sit cross-legged, facing me.
I pull one of the quilts onto my lap, fiddling with a familiar loose stitch as I speak. “I don’t know what to do, Rose. I don’t want to let Sol and the other girls down. I need them. I was alonebefore them. But I … I don’t want you to be mad at me, either. You’ve kind of become my best friend. I’m so scared you’re going to leave me, too.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Iris,” she says, reaching over to put her hand on mine, keeping me from making the loose stitch worse. “I thought about it. When I was in town today, I thought about not coming back. But I couldn’t.” She sighs. “I am mad at you—what you did was awful, and I hate that Sol asked you to do it. But I … I get it. I’d like to believe I’d have the backbone to say no if I was in your place. But I know that’s easier said than done when Sol has the power over us all.”
I wince. My instinct is to defend Sol—my savior, my sun—but the first crack has formed in the glass over his portrait in my mind. The imperfections are starting to show. But I still see so much good, too. So much beauty in the life and the future he’s promised us all, in the home he’s given us. He’s shown me a kindness I’ve only ever known from one other adult in my life.
“So what now?”
Rose bites her lip. “I’m not sure. I just know that I’m not ready to leave.”
I nod slowly. Honestly, I’m relieved to hear it. “Okay.”
We sit there, staring at each other, her warm hand over mine,for a long moment. I imagine us like a perfect snapshot. The iconic final frame of a movie. I wish I could press pause and keep us right here forever, before anything or anyone can test this tentative peace between us.
“Rose?” Sol’s voice comes from downstairs. “Rose? Are you coming down for your Growth Session?”
Rose groans as she pulls her hand away from mine. “God, I want to just say no.”
“Don’t,” I tell her. Both because part of me hopes the two of them can reconcile—that Rose will start to see the good in Sol again and be able to get past the arson so that I can keep adoring them both—and because I’m afraid that if she doesn’t leave right now, I might reach for her hand again. “Go. I’ll see you after.”
“Ugh. Fine.” She stands up and starts toward the attic door. She stops and looks over her shoulder at me. “But let’s talk more later, all right?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
Then she’s gone.
I fall back onto the mattress. There’s still a cold storm of guilt and shame and worry swirling in my chest. But for now, Rose isn’t going anywhere. She’s upset with me, but it seems like, eventually, we’ll be okay. And that’s something I can cling to.
IRIS
Springseems to come to the hollow overnight. One day frost spread across the glass over the attic window, and the next wildflowers are popping up along the dirt path, their blooms reaching up to grasp for those limited hours of sunlight the Cumberland Mountains can provide.
Sol loves spring. He walks around the cabin singing old country songs every morning and playing his guitar on the porch in the evenings. He has us all working on this year’s garden, planting new seeds and tending to the soil. That, on top of all the other chores, is a lot of work, but we do it for him, for the praise. There is no better feeling than having Sol tell you he’s proud of you.
At least, that’s what I thought before. Now, though, every smile, every kind word, comes with a dousing of shame—like ice-cold water dumped on my head. It’s a reminder that I’ve betrayedhim by telling Rose about the trials, that I’ve lied to him, and that I don’t deserve his love or appreciation.
I’m not the only one getting a lot of Sol’s attention, though. He’s started calling Rose in for extra Growth Sessions, sometimes two or even three meetings a week.
“It’s not fair,” I hear Violet hiss at Lily one night when Rose has followed Sol down the hall to his room. They’re in the living room, sorting the laundry while I clean up after dinner in the kitchen. “She’s taking up so much of his time.”
