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condition—you’re too young
for that!”
    “Even
babies can have them. I did as soon as I was born.”
    “Will I get
it?” Jessica asked, the frown deepening.
    Now Lily
knew she had to step in. “No, you won’t,” she said. “Rose was born with a heart
defect—you can’t catch it or anything. She’s had all the best treatment, and
she’s doing great.”
    “I’m just
not supposed to walk home from school,” Rose said. “Or do things like that,
till I have the last surgery. I’m having it this summer, and afterwards I’m
going to be really fine. I’ll be able to run and everything.”
    Just then
the front door of her house opened, and a woman stepped onto the porch. She
hung back, watching for Jessica to get out of the car. Lily waved. The woman
seemed to hesitate—not sure whether to walk over and say hello or not. Lily saw
her marshal herself—literally draw herself up
taller—and she came toward the car.
    Jessica
opened the door to get out. Lily felt Rose’s anxiety as she watched her friend
go. This was the big moment, Lily knew. What would Jessica make of what had
happened? Lily wished she could soothe her daughter, assure her that it didn’t
matter, that Jessica would like her no matter what.
    “Thanks for
giving Jess a ride home,” the woman said.
    “It’s our
pleasure,” Lily said. “I’m Lily Malone, by the way—Rose’s mom.”
    “I’m Marisa
Taylor—Jessica’s mom.”
    The women
smiled, acknowledging that they knew there was much more to both their stories.
Something mischievous flashed in Marisa’s eyes, and Lily thought she saw a
Nanouk Girl in the making. Jessica stood very close to her mother’s side,
staring through the car window at Rose.
    “You like
to garden,” Lily said. “Your window boxes are beautiful.” She
gestured at them—pink, white, blue—geraniums, petunias, blue moon verbena, and
cascading tendrils of ivy—stark against the whitewashed cottage. Some
old, thick-stemmed red roses, carefully pruned and tied to a trellis by the
door, were just starting to bloom, tongues of fire in the afternoon sun.
    “Thanks,”
Marisa said. “Yes, I do enjoy it.”
    “I like
your roses,” Rose said from the back seat.
    “They’re my
favorite flower,” Marisa said. “They have been, ever since I was a little girl.
I love your name.”
    “Thank
you.” Rose smiled.
    “I thought
this would be a different growing season from what I’m used to. But seriously,
my flowers are blooming as if we were in New England—or even farther south.”
    “You’ll
find that we’re on an earlier schedule than the rest of Nova Scotia,” Lily
said. “The Annapolis Current runs just offshore, keeping us much warmer. It’s
amazing, but that’s why your roses are already in bloom. We’re at least three
weeks ahead of Ingonish, and even Halifax.”
    “That
explains it,” Marisa said. Then, crouching down to look through the window, she
added, “When Jessica called to say you’d be giving her a ride home, she said that something had happened to Rose. Is
everything okay?”
    “Rose has a
bad heart—like Grandma,” Jessica said. Her voice sounded thin, as if she’d been
holding it in, and suddenly she started to cry.
    “No,
honey,” Lily said. “What Rose has is different—she was born with heart defects.
She’s got the best doctors, and in July, right after her birthday, they’ll be
replacing an old VSD patch.” Marisa nodded, as if she knew what Lily was
talking about. Lily just kept talking: “We expect it to be her last surgery.
Just wait—she’ll be running races … .”
    “Winning
them,” Rose said.
    Jessica
shuddered and cried harder. Marisa hugged her, and Lily looked on, feeling
helpless. She could feel Rose’s friendship dissolving right then and there.
    “What
happened to your grandma?” Rose asked.
    “She … she
…” Jessica said.
    “She had a
heart attack,” Marisa said.
    “Well, I
won’t have one,” Rose said.
    Once again
Lily and