Marigold Heather Manheim (most important books to read .TXT) 📖

whisked her away to save her life and that her mom had died almost right after childbirth. In the photo, while Ruby looked anything but healthy, she certainly wasn’t near death. Davis noticed that she looked healthy enough in the picture, too. She flipped to the next page and saw medical notes. They indicated that both Ruby Davis and baby Davis received the Marigold Injection to apparent success, with progress or declination closely monitored. Davis continued to read until she got to a part that stopped her breath. She picked up the jaunty red vase that now held a wilted and droopy yellow flower, and she tossed it across the room. The vase smashed into what seemed like a million pieces, and the flower lay still on the ground, an unwitting victim in a pool of stagnant, semi-mildew tainted water. Davis calmed herself and reread the paragraph to make sure she had read it correctly. According to the notes, she had spent six weeks with her mother until they had told Ruby Davis that baby Davis had died. Davis read the words over and over.

Davis put the files aside and curled up on the bed. She hoped that Buster would suddenly appear or if not the loving kitty, she wouldn’t mind Brookshire coming by to hold her hand or stroke her hair. However, nobody entered the room, and she fell asleep, trails of tears streaked on her cheeks, and puffy eyes closed tightly.

She wasn’t sure what the sound was at first, but Davis awoke with a start. Then she realized a light rapping on the door, followed by a quiet, almost whispery “Davis…?”

Davis got up and went over to the door and cracked it open. It was Quinn. “Davis, sorry to bother you or wake you. But we had some good news a bit ago, and I thought you might need some good news. Ringo’s sister has rung the ‘doorbell’—so to speak—and he’s on his way to pick her up right now. We’re going to get a little concert together. Tonight, at eight, after dinner. In the common room, next to the dining room. Ringo was in a band with Josie, and we thought they could play a few songs, and the kids will play a few songs they know. We wanted to invite you, but you know, no pressure.” With that, Quinn smiled and gave Davis a quick pat on the shoulder before walking away.

September 15, 2056 – Reunion

That evening, Davis went back and forth in her head, deciding whether she should go to the concert or not. She didn’t feel up to seeing people or meeting the company or attending any event, but she wanted to support the children’s music playing. She also had to come out of her room at some point and make an announcement about her decision. Finally, Davis decided to go, not feeling entirely sold on that choice but figuring, if anything, it wasn’t the fault of the children. The kids were sweet, and she wanted to support them in the music they would play.

Davis did not attend dinner; Quinn was kind enough to bring it to her and take away the lunch tray and dirtied plate and utensils. When Quinn had come by, Davis told her that she would be there for the concert. She then ate, went to the washroom to freshen up, and then headed off to the show.

As Ringo introduced his “sister,” Josie, to Davis, to say Davis was shocked would be the understatement of the year. And as she had been shocked to her core so many times these last few days, it was saying something that she was completely floored. She shook Josie’s hand in greeting, trying not to look vacant. But confusion reigned. Like Ringo, Josie was tall, at least six feet, and slim but had striking features, long wavy black hair, dark brown eyes, and a deep taupe skin tone.

Luckily, Ringo picked up on her confusion and explained the difference in skin tone. “Josie is Black, as you’ve noticed. So, she’s not actually my sister, as you may have guessed. At least, not biologically. But, emotionally, mentally, even spiritually, she is. You don’t always need to be blood-related to someone for them to be family, you know?”

Davis did not know. But she nodded her head silently and told Josie it was a pleasure to meet her. Josie very kindly took Davis’s hand in between both of her hands. They were warm, soft, and comforting. “So very nice to meet you; Ringo has told me a lot about you,” she said with a friendly smile.

Everybody came into the room, giving Davis small pleasantries and smiles, and after she found a seat, Brookshire sat next to her on a softened sizeable brown leather couch that was in the shape of an L. Duffy and Hernandez, it turned out, were in the city and would not be there.

The children took the stage first. Olivia was on Ringo’s drumkit, and Oliver had a guitar strapped around his shoulder. Both of the little kids had tambourines. Davis couldn’t place any of the songs the kids were playing, and none of them sang. But Davis thought that especially Olivia on the drums certainly took after her father. Olivia was energetic and, you could tell, thrilled to be playing. It wasn’t just good energy, though; she played well. Olivia’s playing was smooth with a perfect groove. She was remarkably good at keeping the beat.

After the kids played a few songs, Ringo and Josie took the stage, announcing that it had been several years since they played together. Josie squinted merrily and said they would appreciate the patience as it would only be a short concert of just the ditties they knew best. All the songs were covers from the most popular band in the late 2020s, Complicated Justice. Davis had known this band, sort of a folksy pop-rock band with poetic and frequently political lyric writing. As Davis remembered the quartet, she realized