ROSE'S PAST
Chapter Four

Rose shuffled through the papers.

She had be swift. If her mother found her in here, there would be hell to pay.

She had to find it. She HAD to.

"Have you found it yet, Rose?" Trudy asked from outside the door.

"Not yet. No." She grunted and pulled another drawer open. She flipped through the papers.

Ruth was selling everything of Joseph's. She said that it instilled too great a pain in her heart to have all his memories lying about.

No, Rose thought to herself as she slammed that drawer shut, there has been an emptiness instilled in your purse and so you are selling everything of HIS so that you might keep everything of YOURS.

Rose wiped the tear forming in her eye away.

She opened another drawer and repeated her actions. Finally, there it was! She snatched it up.

"Finally! I found it!" Rose exclaimed, dancing out of the room. She handed the small drawing to her cousin, and Trudy looked it over and giggled, but her giggle was quickly stifled by Rose's disapproving look.

"What was this?"

"I gave this to Father on his fortieth birthday." Rose looked at it and another tear formed in her eye. It had truly shown how much she loved him.

But now he was gone.

"Are you all right, Rose?" Trudy asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I'm fine," Rose said quickly.

"Rose!" Ruth's voice rang out from the parlor. She was returning from yet another shopping spree. Rose quickly folded the drawing and concealed it, carefully placing it in the sash of her pale yellow day dress.

"Damn! Hurry, lock the door, Trudy!" Rose whispered hurriedly. Trudy fumbled with the small silver key. Rose could hear her mother's shoes clicking as she made her way up the stairs. Her heart raced. Trudy finally slid the key in the lock and turned it. She shoved the key in the pocket of her apron just as Ruth turned the corner and began making her way towards the two of them.

"What are you doing, Rose?" she inquired, looking at the girls' flushed faces.

"Nothing, Mother," Rose replied innocently, placing her hand over her stomach. Trudy stood back silently.

Ruth eyed her daughter and maid suspiciously. "Is your school work done, Rose?"

"Yes, Mother," Rose answered, not moving her hand. She could feel a corner of the paper sticking out from behind the sash.

"Is something wrong with your stomach, dear?" Ruth asked.

Dear, Rose though wryly, I certainly wish you would act upon your words.

"Not at all. I just...I’m a bit hungry."

"Then for God's sake, Rose, go down and get something from the cook! You look ridiculous."

"All right, Mother," Rose responded. She glanced at Trudy, then made her way down to the kitchen where she plopped down in a chair.

The corset bit her side as she tried to slump. She quickly straightened her back to sit erect in the hard wooden chair.

Rose withdrew the picture.

"What's that, Rosie?" the cook asked, peering over her shoulder.

"It's what I gave Daddy for his fortieth birthday, Myrtle," Rose responded.

"Oh," Myrtle said, backing away, sensing the coldness is Rose's voice. She frowned as Rose sat perfectly straight in the chair, her head bent, looking at the picture. "Why'd you come down here to the kitchen, child?"

"I told Mother I was hungry."

"Are you?"

"No. It was a lie. I had stuck this in my sash and it was slipping out," Rose responded bluntly.

So cold, Rosie. You're so cold now, Myrtle thought to herself as she stirred the soup that would be that night's supper.

Rose looked up at her, a pained look crossing her face. She almost looked as if she had heard the cook's thoughts. "I'm sorry, Myrtle. I know that I've been...rather...distant." Rose stood and gently kissed Myrtle's cheek. The two gazed at each other for a few short moments, then Rose, drawing in hand, rushed up to her room and placed the drawing in a crimson velvet jewelry box.

*****

That night at dinnertime, Rose remained in her room. This had become her habit in the last few months. It did not disturb Ruth at all, but it deeply worried the servants. Myrtle had developed her own habit of taking the evening meal up to Rose’s room. When she knocked, Rose admitted her silently, unsmiling.

"You’d best have at this while it’s hot. Nothing worse than cold soup." Rose remained silent, and Myrtle groped for something to say. At last, she decided to voice what was truly troubling her. Still, she hesitated as she began.

"Rosie...I can’t understand why you’re acting this way, hardly talking to anyone. I know you miss your father, more than any of us can even imagine. I wish he were still here, too. He wouldn’t want you to be acting this way, now would he?"

Rose shook her head slightly.

"Then will you please try to stop being like this? I know how unhappy you are; I’ll be here if you need me. You’re still so young, so healthy. I’m afraid of what will happen if you go on this way very long. It’s been too long now."

"That isn’t for you to say!" Rose turned to the cook, her eyes full of fury. "I will not allow you to tell me how to grieve! You say you know how unhappy I am. You have no idea, not really. You can’t, he wasn’t your father. He was mine." By this last sentence, Rose’s tone was very soft.

"I know that, dear," Myrtle whispered as she sat on the bed. "I'm not trying to tell you how to behave, really. I'm just so worried, I don't know how to help you."

"Just your being here helps. I know you want to make things easier for me, and I'm sorry I..."

"No, don't apologize, you have a right to be angry, you have to let it out somehow. Honestly, I was glad to see you react, at least. Is there something else? You still seem upset."

"It's not you. I was just thinking...the person I'm angry with is...is Daddy."

"Rosie, I can see you feel ashamed. I told you, you have a right to be angry, even with him. Because he left you here, with that so-called mother of yours."

"He didn't want to go, but nothing could prevent it. He loved me more than anyone, the last word I ever heard him speak was my name. How can it be all right to be angry with him? Even though he did leave me with Mother, I shouldn’t..."

"Rose, you loved him so much, that is why you’re angry with him. Because he left you. You know he couldn’t help it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be angry. The way you are feeling will pass."

"I hope so." Rose looked up from her nearly finished dinner. "Did Mother mention if there are any plans tonight? I would rather go to bed."

"So early, dear? Are you feeling ill?"

"No, just tired. Otherwise I’m fine. Really."

"All right. I’ll ask Betsy to come up when I take these things to the kitchen. You sleep well, I’ll see you in the morning." Myrtle stood, and before taking Rose’s dishes away, kissed her on the forehead. Then, she gathered the things and left.

Later that evening, just as Rose was drifting off to sleep down the hall, Ruth went into Joseph’s room, making as little noise as possible. She didn’t know why she felt compelled to enter the room at all. It wasn’t to ease her grief...she had none. Something caused her to go into the room nonetheless. She was dismayed by what she saw.

Someone had been in the room before her, there were things obviously out of place. No one was allowed in here! Ruth knew who would go against her wishes. Rose. Ruth shook her head, feeling the anger welling up inside of her. Turning around, she marched out of Joseph’s room, locked the door again, and headed for her daughter’s instead.

She entered Rose’s room and went to her bedside. She was about to shake her awake, when she saw Rose was holding something in her hand, even as she slept. Ruth supposed this was what Rose had taken from the other room. Carefully, she took it out of Rose’s hand. When she saw what it was, she was utterly surprised.

Hadn’t she told Rose to get rid of this, years ago? Then again, it wasn’t surprising Rose had gone against her wishes, she certainly did it often enough. What did surprise her was that Joseph had managed to keep this, for years, without her ever knowing. But naturally he had found a way; he prized anything Rose had ever given him.

Ruth looked down at her sleeping daughter and sighed. She never did understand my objection to this little drawing, and I didn’t explain, Ruth thought to herself. Rose has never known that I wish she could love me the way she still loves her father, even now. I haven’t earned her love. I don’t even know how.

Ruth was brought out of her thoughts when her daughter spoke. "Mother, what is it? Is something..." Rose trailed off as she saw her mother was holding the drawing.

Rose cast her eyes down, sure she knew what was coming. "You got this from your father’s room, didn’t you Rose?"

"Yes, I did. I know you said that room was supposed to stay locked now, but I...I had to find that. Please, don’t take it away from me now."

"I won’t. " Rose looked up, plainly surprised. "I was going to, but I understand why you want it. There is something I want to tell you, Rose."

Ruth sat down on the bed, and Rose resisted the urge to move away from her. "What is it, Mother?"

"Rose, when you drew this years ago, why did you think I told you to get rid of it?"

"You told me it wasn’t good enough, that I should have bought something instead. Wasn’t...wasn’t that the real reason?"

"No." Ruth’s voice began to quiver, despite her best efforts to control it. "My reason was that I wondered why this was only of you and your father. I knew it was for his birthday, of course, but we are a family. Or were. I couldn’t help but wonder why..." No, that wasn’t how she wanted to say it. She began again. "I wondered what I could do, that eventually would bring you to love me as you loved him. As you still love him. I don’t know what that is, it’s to late to change anything now."

"Mother, I do love you. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to tell you, it’s just...I thought it was YOU who didn’t love ME." Having never admitted this before, Rose was very nervous doing so. She looked on, amazed, as tears sprang to her mother’s eyes.

"Rose, do you really believe that?"

"Yes. Everyone has told me you do. Except you."

"I do love you, Rose. All these years I should have told you, but I didn’t know how. I never imagined saying the words was so simple."

"I just thought that...that I wasn’t good enough for you to love."

Rose was completely stunned when her mother drew her into an embrace. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then, in a whisper, "No matter what happens, Rose, always remember that I do love you, and I know you love me."

"I will, you have my word." This hug was awkward for Rose, but instead of wanting to pull away, she wanted to stay like that forever. Safe and loved, right there in her mother’s arms.

*****

Rose sat on the edge of her bed, now unable to sleep. Her lamp was lit. The flames danced on the walls, casting odd shadows about the room. She gently touched the picture again.

What had just happened with her mother still puzzled her. What had happened inside Ruth to have her do that? Yes, she had said that the reason she had wanted Rose to dispose of the picture was not that it had not been bought, but because it disturbed her. But still...

"Rose," she heard Betsy say softly, following a gentle knock on the door.

"Come in, Betsy," she answered, slipping the picture into her desk drawer.

"Why are you still up, hon? It's past midnight."

"I know. Something happened...with Mother." She looked up at Betsy. "She came in and...she told me some things...it wasn't like her. She told me that she loved me. And she hugged me. I was so--I wanted to stay in her embrace forever, Betsy, but it...I don't know. It just wasn't like her. She found the picture I gave Daddy and she told me the reason she had wanted me to get rid of it wasn't because it hadn't been bought, but because it only had Daddy and me in it. She told me that she loves me and she's only wanted me to love her like I loved Daddy. But Betsy, I couldn't help but think, the entire time it was happening, that this wasn't MY mother. She was someone else. That it was a dream. Because the mother I have is too cold and bitter to ever say those things."

Tears were now streaming down her face. Betsy sat down beside Rose, taking her into her arms and cradling her like a child.

Unseen to both of them, Ruth moved away from beside the open door, anger and pain filling every inch of her body.

Chapter Five
Stories