Marie’s side of the closet, the empty hangers swung together with a hollow metallic ticking as
Rose hung up her sweater.
It was as if Marie had died. Rose shivered and, only half-aware of what she was doing, made
the sign of the cross.
Then, crouching on the floor, she peeled back a frayed edge of the mustard-brown carpeting
that had come untacked. Underneath was a loose floorboard. She found the metal nail file she
kept in the bottom dresser drawer, and pried up the loose board with it. Underneath was a space
just big enough for an old metal Band-Aid box. Her secret place. No one else knew about it. Not
Marie. Not even Brian.
Rose opened the Band-Aid box, and shook out a lump of gray cotton. Slowly, she unwrapped
it, revealing the glittering treasure hidden within.
A ruby earring, gleaming in her hand like a frozen drop of blood.
The memory came rushing back. Seven years ago—had it been that long? She saw it in her
mind as clearly as if it were happening now. The elegant lady in the mink coat. Rose had seen her
standing just outside the schoolyard fence one day. She didn’t look like any of the mothers. More
like a queen. Or a mysterious movie star, in that beautiful mink coat, and a hat with a little veil
that dipped over her eyes.
Then she’d realized those mysterious eyes underneath the veil were staring at her. At first Rose
had been sure she was wrong. She’d even glanced back over her shoulder to see if there was
someone behind her. But, no, the lady was looking straight at her. Her eyes big and somehow
wet-looking, like the clear green marbles in her collection, the ones that were worth ten cat’s
eyes.
Rose cautiously drew a little closer. Sad and lost, that’s how the lady looked. But it didn’t
make any sense. Why should she be? Someone dressed as beautiful as that had to be rich, and
rich people [63] never had worries like the grown-ups Rose knew. It was a cold day, and the lady
seemed to shiver, drawing her mink coat more tightly about her. Ruby earrings twinkled in her
ears. What could she want?
As Rose came through the gate amid the noisy, jostling throng of classmates, the woman took
several jerky steps forward, crying out in a thin strangled voice, “Wait!”
Startled, Rose paused, remembering that she’d been told by Nonnie and the Sisters, not once
but at least fifty times, never ever to talk to strangers. But somehow she couldn’t run away. Her
saddle shoes felt as if they were stuck onto the sidewalk. Her arms and legs frozen in place.
Rose waited, as if hypnotized by that beautiful, somehow haunted face, its fragile bones jutting
from pale creamy skin. Soft hair, the color of autumn leaves, floated over her fur collar. Rose was
reminded of a snowflake that would melt if she touched it. The woman’s flowerlike mouth
trembled. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She seemed on the verge of speaking, but she pulled back
abruptly as if she’d changed her mind.
Instead, she reached up with a gloved hand—it had been trembling, Rose remembered—and
unscrewed the ruby from her right ear.
As Rose stood there, too shocked to protest, the lady pressed the tiny earring, icy cold, into her
palm. Then she had run off, high heels clattering on the frozen sidewalk, ducking into a long
sleek limousine that waited at the curb, disappearing as if in a puff of smoke.
Rose had been sure of it. The lady was her Guardian Angel. Everyone had one, Sister Perpetua
said. But Rose hadn’t believed it was true for her ... until that day.
And now she had the earring to prove it.
Rose held it up to the light, a ruby in the shape of a teardrop dangling from a tiny gold and
diamond stud. Even in the dim room, it blazed with a light of its own, causing Rose to suck her
breath in with wonder even though she’d looked at it a hundred times. Yes, magic. Heaven-sent
magic.
And she needed its magic now, more than ever.
“Don’t leave me, Bri,” she whispered, clenching it tightly
Rose hung up her sweater.
It was as if Marie had died. Rose shivered and, only half-aware of what she was doing, made
the sign of the cross.
Then, crouching on the floor, she peeled back a frayed edge of the mustard-brown carpeting
that had come untacked. Underneath was a loose floorboard. She found the metal nail file she
kept in the bottom dresser drawer, and pried up the loose board with it. Underneath was a space
just big enough for an old metal Band-Aid box. Her secret place. No one else knew about it. Not
Marie. Not even Brian.
Rose opened the Band-Aid box, and shook out a lump of gray cotton. Slowly, she unwrapped
it, revealing the glittering treasure hidden within.
A ruby earring, gleaming in her hand like a frozen drop of blood.
The memory came rushing back. Seven years ago—had it been that long? She saw it in her
mind as clearly as if it were happening now. The elegant lady in the mink coat. Rose had seen her
standing just outside the schoolyard fence one day. She didn’t look like any of the mothers. More
like a queen. Or a mysterious movie star, in that beautiful mink coat, and a hat with a little veil
that dipped over her eyes.
Then she’d realized those mysterious eyes underneath the veil were staring at her. At first Rose
had been sure she was wrong. She’d even glanced back over her shoulder to see if there was
someone behind her. But, no, the lady was looking straight at her. Her eyes big and somehow
wet-looking, like the clear green marbles in her collection, the ones that were worth ten cat’s
eyes.
Rose cautiously drew a little closer. Sad and lost, that’s how the lady looked. But it didn’t
make any sense. Why should she be? Someone dressed as beautiful as that had to be rich, and
rich people [63] never had worries like the grown-ups Rose knew. It was a cold day, and the lady
seemed to shiver, drawing her mink coat more tightly about her. Ruby earrings twinkled in her
ears. What could she want?
As Rose came through the gate amid the noisy, jostling throng of classmates, the woman took
several jerky steps forward, crying out in a thin strangled voice, “Wait!”
Startled, Rose paused, remembering that she’d been told by Nonnie and the Sisters, not once
but at least fifty times, never ever to talk to strangers. But somehow she couldn’t run away. Her
saddle shoes felt as if they were stuck onto the sidewalk. Her arms and legs frozen in place.
Rose waited, as if hypnotized by that beautiful, somehow haunted face, its fragile bones jutting
from pale creamy skin. Soft hair, the color of autumn leaves, floated over her fur collar. Rose was
reminded of a snowflake that would melt if she touched it. The woman’s flowerlike mouth
trembled. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She seemed on the verge of speaking, but she pulled back
abruptly as if she’d changed her mind.
Instead, she reached up with a gloved hand—it had been trembling, Rose remembered—and
unscrewed the ruby from her right ear.
As Rose stood there, too shocked to protest, the lady pressed the tiny earring, icy cold, into her
palm. Then she had run off, high heels clattering on the frozen sidewalk, ducking into a long
sleek limousine that waited at the curb, disappearing as if in a puff of smoke.
Rose had been sure of it. The lady was her Guardian Angel. Everyone had one, Sister Perpetua
said. But Rose hadn’t believed it was true for her ... until that day.
And now she had the earring to prove it.
Rose held it up to the light, a ruby in the shape of a teardrop dangling from a tiny gold and
diamond stud. Even in the dim room, it blazed with a light of its own, causing Rose to suck her
breath in with wonder even though she’d looked at it a hundred times. Yes, magic. Heaven-sent
magic.
And she needed its magic now, more than ever.
“Don’t leave me, Bri,” she whispered, clenching it tightly
Similar Books
