May 15, 2004
Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin
Her face streaked with tears, Rose ran through the streets of Chippewa Falls. People stared at her, but she paid them no heed. She had to get away.
Away. Just like she had a year and a half earlier—but there would be no one to stop her this time.
Unconsciously, Rose headed back in the direction of the bar where the band was scheduled to perform, although she had no intention of getting up in front of anyone tonight.
When she reached it, she pushed her way inside, still ignoring the stares of the patrons and her fellow band members. Someone offered to buy her a drink, but she ignored that, too, running past everyone and into the ladies’ room.
Leaning against a wall, Rose tried to regain control of herself, then slid down the wall to the floor, her shoulders heaving with sobs. She hated herself, hated her life. Why was she alive when Jack was dead? Why hadn’t she tried harder to save him? If she had tried, he might still be alive, and she would be somewhere else, not singing in a smelly bar and trying to convince herself that she was doing something with her life. She didn’t deserve to be alive.
"Rose?"
Rose cringed, curling up tighter and burying her face in her arms as Daffodil came into the restroom, looking at her with concern.
"Rose, are you okay? What’s wrong?"
"Nothing. I’m fine," Rose whimpered, her hands clutching her ankles like a lifeline.
Daffodil moved closer, sitting close to her. "Rose, come on. What’s wrong?"
Rose just cried harder, putting her head on Daffodil’s shoulder when her friend moved to comfort her. "Go away."
"No. What’s going on, Rose? Did you get into trouble of some sort?"
Rose sniffed, leaning her head back against the wall. "I killed Jack."
"Wasn’t that your boyfriend who died last year?"
"Yes."
"You said that you had nothing to do with his death."
"I didn’t pull the trigger, but I’m just as responsible as…as the man who murdered him. If I’d stayed away from him…it wouldn’t have happened. If I’d realized how badly he was hurt…I might have been able to save him. I didn’t think about what I was doing. I only thought about myself. And now he’s dead, and my life is pointless. I shouldn’t even be alive!"
"That’s crazy talk, Rose." Daffodil knelt in front of her, forcing Rose to look at her. "You have every right and reason to be alive. Bad things happen sometimes, but you have to keep on going. That’s the way life is. You can’t always tell where something’s going to lead. If we could look ahead and see all the bad, we’d never do anything, and we’d miss all the good in life, too."
Rose shook her head vehemently, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. Daffodil handed her a wad of toilet paper. "You don’t understand."
"I do understand, Rose. Remember when I told you about my sister, and what happened to her? I felt horribly guilty after that, like it was my fault that she’s in that wheelchair. I still think about it. Now, from what little you’ve told me about Jack, I think he would be proud of you. Look at all that you’ve done, and all that you’re doing. Your life is worthwhile."
Rose shook her head. "You don’t know how it was. It was just after the earthquake, and there were all these aftershocks…Jack had been framed for the theft of my engagement ring, and I went down and broke him out of jail before the flames reached it. A lot of the town burned that night, you know. Once we were away from the flames, we thought that we were safe—and then we met…the man who killed him. There was an argument, and Jack and I walked away…and then he was shot in the back. We managed to take shelter between two damaged buildings—but they collapsed when we were trying to escape. I was so afraid of having the debris cave in and kill us that I didn’t try to escape then—it was morning before I dug my way out. If only I’d done it sooner, he might have lived." She wiped her eyes, going on. "I tried to save him—I even used my dress to try to stop the bleeding from the gunshot wound—but it didn’t work. He bled to death."
"You did all that you could."
"I could have done more. If only I’d tried to dig us out while there was still time…"
"You both could have died."
"That would have been better."
"No, it wouldn’t have. Rose…listen to me. You’re alive, and you’re supposed to be alive. Nothing happens without a reason. I’m sure of it. You have a lot of living to do, and he wouldn’t want you to give up."
Rose raised tear-filled eyes to look at Daffodil. "Before he died, he made me promise to not give up, to go on. He said that I was going to live a long time, and have kids and everything."
"And do you really want to break your promise to him?"
"I should never have made that promise."
"But he wanted you to, and it wasn’t exactly unreasonable."
Rose looked Daffodil in the eye, her mouth set. "His cousin said it’s my fault he died."
Daffodil looked a little startled at her words, but quickly recovered. "His cousin?"
"Emmaline Dawson. I met her down by the creek. She was sketching me, and said that I looked familiar. Jack had sent her a picture with me in it, you see. I found out who she was, and I told her that he had died. She wanted to know how…and I told her. Then she said that it was my fault."
"Rose, people say things like that when they’re upset."
"She meant it, and she was right."
"She wasn’t right. Rose, look at me." Rose took a deep, shuddering breath, finally meeting Daffodil’s eyes. "Rose, you didn’t kill him. It was a horrible thing that happened, yes, but you didn’t do it. Someone else did—your ex-fiancé, I think you said after I first found you laying at the base of that cliff. He killed Jack, Rose—not you. If you had tried to save him, you might have died, too." She put her arms around Rose, helping her to her feet. "We can talk about this later if you want, but right now we have a show to put on."
"I’m not going out there, Daffodil. Not like this."
"You were out there like that earlier."
"That was different. I don’t want to get up in front of people—I might cry. You go ahead. I’m sitting this one out."
"You’re our star singer."
"Not tonight, I’m not. I can’t go on. Send Tim in my place."
"Tim is sleeping off some cold medicine."
"Then you go."
Daffodil hesitated. "Uh…thanks for the confidence, but I don’t sing well enough."
"Well enough for a bunch of drunks!"
"Rose, come on. You need to go out there. It’ll give you something else to concentrate on. You can use those emotions, too. Sing some of your sad, melancholy songs. Audiences always love those."
"I can’t."
"You can." Daffodil dug into her bag. "Come on. Fix your makeup and get out there. It’s so dark that no one will notice how red your eyes are."
"I could say I was drunk," Rose joked weakly, but her mouth trembled.
"You’ll be fine, Rose." Daffodil hugged her. "You’ll be fine."
Rose took a deep breath. "I’ll try."
*****
Still tense and unsure if she was doing the right thing, Rose stepped up to the microphone set up in a dark corner of the bar. Daffodil, Jim, and Angel had kept the audience entertained while she got ready, keeping up a steady comedy routine and singing a couple of songs. A few people quieted as they noticed Rose approach.
"Good evening," she began. "I’m sure that some of you heard that we were coming, and some of you may have even heard us before. I’m here with a new song tonight—one I haven’t sung onstage before, at any rate."
There was a smattering of applause. Lifting the guitar she carried, Rose strummed a few notes, then began.
Can you hear that lonesome whippoorwill?
He sounds too blue to fly
The midnight train is winding low
And I’m so lonesome I could cry.
I’ve never seen a night so long
When time goes crawling by
The moon just went behind a cloud
To hide its face and cry.
Did you ever see a robin weep
When leaves began to die?
That means she’s lost the will to live
And I’m so lonesome I could cry.
The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I’m so lonesome I could cry.
Almost everyone was listening by the time she finished the song. When the last notes had died away, a few men lifted their beers to her, and tears filled her eyes. Blinking them back, she began a song that she and Daffodil had sung together almost a year ago when they had hitched a ride to Reno, Nevada.
Done laid around, done stayed around
This old town too long
Summer’s almost gone
Winter’s coming on
Done laid around, done stayed around
This old town too long
And I feel like I wanna travel on.
A chilly wind will soon begin
I’ll be on my way
Going home to stay
Going home to stay
A chilly wind will soon begin
I’ll be on my way
And I feel like I wanna travel on.
Done laid around, done stayed around
This old town too long
Summer’s almost gone
Winter’s coming on
Done laid around, done stayed around
This old town too long
And I feel like I wanna travel on.
There’s a lonesome freight at 6:08
Coming through the town
I’ll be homeward bound
I’ll be homeward bound
There’s a lonesome freight at 6:08
Coming through the town
And I feel like I wanna travel on.
Done laid around, done stayed around
This old town too long
Summer’s almost gone
Winter’s coming on
Done laid around, done stayed around
This old town too long
And I feel like I wanna travel on.
The rest of the performance passed in a blur for Rose. She sang more songs, all of them meaning something to her, but none so meaningful as the first, and in spite of her resolve, tears ran down her face more than once as she sang out her emotions, revealing how she felt as she never had before.
*****
The bar was closing and the band was preparing to leave for the night when Rose heard someone call to her from the doorway. Looking up, she saw Emmaline.
Surprised, Rose walked over to her. The bartender was giving them a dirty look, clearly not wanting the teenager inside the bar, so she slipped outside with her, standing in front of the blinking neon sign.
"What do you want?" Rose’s voice was harsher than she intended.
"I’m sorry," Emmaline told her.
"For what?"
"For accusing you of killing Jack. I think he loved you. He didn’t say it so me in so many words…but I could tell. And you loved him, too."
"Yes, I did."
Emmaline went on. "I told my dad that Jack had died—and he was glad. That stupid asshole was glad. He’d hated Jack for years, especially after he spent some time in juvenile hall. Dad thought that he was the scum of the earth, and that he should have died a long time before."
"He wasn’t the scum of the earth." Rose shook her head. "He was a good, decent person. He may have had some trouble in his past, but he overcame it. He was there for me…when I needed him the most. I only wish that I could have done as much for him as he did for me."
"He e-mailed me about you several times—and he didn’t have to say it for me to know that he loved you. You made him happier than he’d been in a long time."
"But I couldn’t save his life."
"You tried, though. If you’d wanted him dead—you wouldn’t have tried."
"No." Rose turned away. "I wouldn’t have."
"I—I brought you the sketch that I made this afternoon. I made another one, too, from the picture that he sent me. I had it saved in my computer. I sketched just the two of you. I thought you might like it."
Hands shaking, Rose took the drawings from the girl. Though Emmaline wasn’t yet as skilled as Jack had been, the pictures were good, especially the one drawn from the wedding photo. She and Jack stood together, smiling broadly at the camera. Tears came to her eyes as she looked at it, wondering if they would have posed for their own wedding photo, had he lived.
"They’re beautiful," she told Emmaline. "You’re as talented as he was."
Emmaline shook her head. "Not yet—but maybe someday. He and I both learned from our grandfather."
"He must have been very talented, too."
"He was." Emmaline paused. "Rose…would you like to see where his parents are buried? We could get some flowers, put them there in honor of them and of Jack."
Rose’s fingers tightened on the edges of the drawings. "Sure. I’d like that. Maybe tomorrow? We’ll be here another day."
"Would morning be okay? Around ten, maybe?"
"Sure. Where would you like me to meet you?"
"At the creek. We can walk from there."
Rose nodded, her eyes sad. "I’ll meet you there." She looked up as the other members of the band came outside. "It’s getting late…"
Emmaline nodded. "I’d better go home before my dad finds out I’m not there. I’ll take you to the cemetery tomorrow. They’ve got a nice gravesite—well kept up."
Rose nodded again, carefully holding the drawings. "Thank you."
Emmaline nodded, then turned and ran down the street and around a corner. Rose fell into step with the other members of the band, still holding the drawings close. In spite of being surrounded by people, she had never felt so alone.