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Rose was trembling. She shook her head, the room blurring as she fought a wave of dizziness. She felt paralyzed, her feet rooted to the ground, and she could not run away; not from this. She felt like a train wreck had just occurred in her mind. She opened her mouth, and whispered, "No." "Yes," said Ruth. "I never told you because you didn't need to know. For all intents and purposes Thomas is your father. He was the father figure in your life. He loved you with all his heart, unconditionally; he loved you jealously because I don't think he ever really got over the fact that I loved James, not him. In spite of what he said. And things were always . . . strained between us. I was heartbroken when he died, Rose, but . . . I was also relieved. I always walked on eggshells around him. Because he did so much for me; and I loved another man in return." "No, no, no." Rose did not want to hear any more. She put her hands over her ears, shaking her head. "No, god, Mother, stop it; you're lying! Daddy is my father; he's my birth father, why are you saying this?" "Because it's true, Rose. It's not a lie. I understand you must be a little shocked -" "A little?" Rose stared at her. "I'm a little shocked? What about a lot? What about devastated? My entire world, everything I've ever known, it's . . . it's nothing but a lie! My father wasn't my father! I never met my father! And you - you are not who I thought you to be, you - you -" "Do you blame me?" Ruth asked, her voice rising again. "Do you blame me for what happened? I fell in love! That was my crime! I wanted to raise you to be different than me, Rose. So you wouldn't make the same mistake that I did. So you wouldn't hurt the way that I have." There was a long pause. "And now look at you. And look at me. It's so ironic." Ruth's words from earlier in the day rang in Rose's head. We're women. Our choices are never easy. Now she knew what choices Ruth had really meant. It was a long time before Rose spoke, but when she did, it was with quiet sincerity, and her eyes were steadfast. "I won't make the same mistake you did, Mother. Because I won't send Jack away . . . like you did with my father." A flash of hurt appeared in Ruth's eyes. But for once she did not retaliate with a biting insult of her own. Her head bowed, and she nodded. She looked like what she was; a beaten, broken woman that life had taken its toll on. Rose did not pity her. As Ruth had said, it had been her own decision. She could have accepted it with grace, but instead she'd acted jealously toward her husband and daughter, stung them with her words and shut them out. She was not strong. She was afraid. For the first time, her mother looked old. Youth - the love and happiness that it caters to - was years past. Rose was all she had. And she had tried to give her only daughter away to a man who was incapable of love. Who would not hesitate to hurt her. "What about Cal?" Ruth asked simply, her head still down. Rose closed her eyes. She was suddenly exhausted. She needed to feel Jack's arms around her. She needed him to tell her that everything would be okay. "I'll talk to him," Rose said. "I'll tell him I cannot marry him. That I won't." "He'll be angry. He'll be furious." "Yes, I know." "Aren't you afraid?" "I'm tired of being afraid. I'm tired of bowing down to him. I'm stronger than he is and he knows it." "When will you tell him?" "Tomorrow. After I get some rest. Although that's unlikely after what I've just been told." Ruth got to her feet. "I'll tell him," she said. Her voice was listless. "I'm the one who forced you into this, Rose. And he won't strike me." "No -" "I'm still your mother, young lady, no matter what else. Don't question me." Ruth lifted her head and strode calmly out of the sitting room. She beckoned to Cal, who was waiting just outside the door. "I'll have a word with you, Mr. Hockley." Cal walked back into the room, stubbing out his cigarette as he gave both of them a dubious glance. "Well?" he said. "Have you decided on her punishment?" Rose looked at him coolly. Ruth stared at the carpet for a moment, gathering her composure, then swept her head up with the same steady, keen gaze that Rose had seen her mother give for as long as she could remember. "No. As a matter of fact I've decided against it." Rose looked at her mother and they shared a brief smile, both knowing what she meant by that. |
