Gate of Rose and Vine: Book One

By Katrina Goforth

What would you do if you found yourself in another world? Nine-year-old Nora Clark must figure it out when she discovers a world of talking animals that look like plants in this visually rich story about the power of vulnerability, honesty, and friendship.

In Terrafauna, a world of vibrantly petaled plantimals and stunning

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katrina Goforth
• Release date: Mar 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9798218142872

Book preview

Prologue

Someone I love told me I should write this story, and because she loves me, too, I think she means I should not forget. Forget that this happened, forget that it is true, or forget that the truth, no matter how hard to hear or believe doesn’t change.

My life changed forever the summer I turned nine, and that is what this story is about. Most of it I know by heart because I lived it, but other parts I didn’t learn until later when my friends told me what they went through. I’ve added their stories, too, so as much of the truth can be told as possible.

My name is Nora Clark, and this is my story.

Nora Clark

One

I squished my toes into the grass until my nails found the compacted dirt, that stuff that’s too hard to dig up because it hasn’t gotten wet in a while. I dug my toenail against it willing it to budge. But it wouldn’t. It hadn’t rained in weeks and the grass was already turning brown. The summer I turned nine was a hot one.

Mama’s garden shovel would break it, but it was in the shed. The shed that was on fire.

Fire. F-I-R-E. Easy. Give me something harder.

Summer had just started. No more social studies lessons, spelling tests, or math homework. I had three whole months to do whatever I wanted. At least, that’s what I thought.

But that June night, standing in my neighbor’s yard, hiding behind their mailbox, swinging my favorite teddy bear as if he didn’t have black ears and singed fur, my plans meant nothing. I had ruined them.

Across the street, my house glowed orange and red against the black sky. It should’ve been a clear night with a big, full moon and fireflies dancing in the grass. There wasn’t even one single star. They must’ve been hiding from the smoke.

Smoke. S-M-O-K-E. The /e/ is silent. That’s how they get you.

People, our neighbors, stood around in their driveways or on their porches gawking at it. They held their hands over their faces and fumbled with their buttons. They were still wearing their pajamas and bathrobes. Mama would never have been seen outside like that. She wouldn’t let me, either. I swung my teddy bear and he hit me in the wrist.

Little kids, some of them I knew and some of them I didn’t, rubbed at their eyes and hid behind their parents. Mrs. Williams down the street held on to her son, Leo, like he might catch fire all the way from over there, but he was too busy talking to notice anything around him. He was probably asking for a snack. He was always asking for a snack. Mr. Williams came out of their house and said something to his wife. She looked over at me resting against the mailbox and looked away as if she had done something she shouldn’t.

Nervous. N-E-R-V-O-U-S. 

Then there were eyes watching me. Daddy’s eyes. He stood on the curb with his arms around Mama. With the burning house behind him, he glowed, and I couldn’t see his face in the darkness. He turned toward me when a woman walked up to him with a blanket and wrapped it around Mama. Mrs. Williams held her and let her cry. The blanket covered Mama’s burned bathrobe and her dirty slippers, blackened with smoke and asphalt.

Mr. Williams still held a phone to his ear. Other parents hurried their children back inside their not-burning houses. Eyes peaked from between curtains and blinds.

Daddy put his arms around me, and he didn’t smell like Daddy. He smelled like a campfire we once built together off in the woods. And sweat.

Everything is going to be okay, he said.

My stomach twisted. I could’ve thrown up in the grass right then, right there.

How could everything be okay? How could it ever be okay again?

We’re all safe, Daddy said. Nothing else matters.

My whole body burned under his arms. I squeezed myself out of his hug and pushed away to cool off. A breeze blew the smell of burning wood through the air.

You’re safe, he said. I don’t care about anything else.

I stared into his eyes.

He knows. Guilty. G-U-I-L-T-Y. Why?

Nora? Are you okay? he said.

Sirens blared from not too far away, then flashing red and blue lights lit up the street.

He doesn’t know. How could he know? I don’t even know. Not really.

I felt my stomach leap into my chest. It pressed against me until I gasped for air. I doubled over searching for fresh air to breathe but it was all smoke, smoke, smoke. Flames and smoke and falling wood.

Who am I kidding, I know.

My stomach flipped. My back and shoulders caved in on my chest like a crumbling wall. Like gymnasts tumbling over each other, my thoughts flew through my mind and spilled down my spine. One thought stuck, growing bigger and bigger, the big, black letters filling every part of my brain until it was all that was left.

It’s all my fault. F-A-U-L-T.

He’ll never forgive you. How could he?

A loud popping sound rang through the night, and someone screamed. A crash shook the ground. I flung myself forward and fell into something, the grass? No. I didn’t fall that far. The mailbox? No. It didn’t hurt that much. Fingers wrapped around my wrist. Daddy.

My feet caught on a twig and some loose rocks. Daddy’s arms buckled. I couldn’t hold myself up. My legs didn’t work. Why didn’t my legs work? His arm slipped and I fell into the grass.

The sirens grew louder.

On my back in the grass, I saw my Daddy drop to his knees. In the firelight, I saw his face covered in soot and ash, and a red patch on his cheek. Was that blood on his hands? Behind him, the outline of our house, engulfed in flames.

E-N-G-U-L-F-E-D.

Then, darkness.

Two

Who does that? Who agrees to take a child away from her parents? She said yes so fast. Too fast.

Here are the facts I knew about my Aunt Lily before Mama and Daddy abandoned me with her for the summer: 1) she’s twenty-nine, so she’s old, not as old as Mama and Daddy, but nearly; 2) she’s not married, so maybe she’s not that nice or not that pretty; and 3) she doesn’t have any kids, so maybe she’ll hate me.

And maybe she should.

I also knew that she is Daddy’s only sibling. She’s the youngest, and Daddy is five years older. She’s not around much because she’s always in school, and I don’t think Daddy has ever asked her for help because he didn’t really seem to know what to say. He stuttered and mumbled like he didn’t know the answer.

But I heard her through the phone.

She said yes immediately.

Y-E-S. I could spell that one in kindergarten.

I knew this about Daddy: 1) he spent a lot of time on the phone now; 2) he and Mama tried not to talk about the F-I-R-E in front of me; and 3) he did not know. I was sure about that.

It’ll only be for a little while – until we get things settled. A motel is no place for a little girl, Daddy said.

I sat on the bed in the motel room that was no place for a little girl, watching cable television for the first time in my life. Who knew there were commercials?

His voice cracked. I pretended not to notice.

I pretended not to notice when Mama argued with him after supper on the sidewalk outside our room. I turned the volume up so they wouldn’t know I knew.

I pretended not to notice when she cried in the front seat as Daddy drove down the highway to meet Aunt Lily. I stared out the window and counted the mile markers.

I pretended not to notice when Daddy choked out the words, We’re here.

He pulled into a gas station parking lot next to another car.

Daddy opened the trunk and pulled out my suitcase. We found it in a thrift store for five dollars. I shoved my few things into it and packed the bear down into the bottom where I didn’t have to see his burned-up face. But he was there.

Aunt Lily stepped out of her car. She wasn’t that old. She had kind of long, brown hair that curled a little, and she was tall, like Daddy. She wore a blue dress with short sleeves and tennis shoes with flowers on them. She had Daddy’s brown eyes, and she sort of smiled at me. I guess she was not that bad looking.

I think she tried to say something to me, but I pretended not to notice.

She doesn’t have much, Daddy said. I hope she won’t be too much of a burden.

Aunt Lily wrinkled her forehead.

No such thing, she said.

Lily Clark, you’re a saint, he said. I mean it, Sis.

Aunt Lily sort of half smiled.

Not even close, she said. Whenever you’re ready, Nora, we’ll go. Take your time.

She opened her car door, and it closed behind her.

Mama sat in our car still crying. She had already said goodbye. I could scream and kick and cause a scene, but what good would it do? I’d still have to go with Aunt Lily.

Can I give you a hug? Daddy asked.

He never pushed or expected