ALL THE WAY
Chapter Twenty

May 1930

"So, what the hell is this play about, anyway?" Grace Foster asked, saucily, before taking a big swig from her soda. She swallowed, and then set the bottle down in the sand. She, Matthew Langston, and Jillian were sitting out on the beach, up on some rocks away from the popular part of the area. It was an awful day; cloudy, rainy, and cold for May. But the three friends couldn't have cared less. They liked having the time to be with each other outside of school, which was sometimes hard to accomplish because of their different schedules. The topic of their conversation, the play, was part of the annual spring festivities at the Santa Monica Junior High School. The eighth graders always put on a comedy exactly two weeks before graduation. Tonight, in the friends’ case, was the date. It was sort of a tradition to put this event on. And it just so happened that Matthew and Jillian had the leads.

"Grace, we told you, like...twenty thousand times already!" Matthew exploded. He rolled his eyes, and then tossed a piece of wood toward the ocean. It landed about ten yards away on the sand. He scowled at the bad throw.

Jillian reached over and grabbed her best friend's drink, took a few sips, and then spoke. "Nap-o-le-on," she said, slowly and teasingly, leaning on each syllable as if to make sure Grace got it all, "and Jo-se-phine. Matthew is Napoleon, I am Josephine. Is that so hard to get?"

"I got that part," Grace retorted back, taking her soda back from Jillian. "What's the plot?"

"It’s a comedy, and it goes through Napoleon and Josephine's marriage. During the whole thing, these assassin people keep trying to kill the two main characters. Then, at the end, they succeed in playing a part in the divorce and then Napoleon's banishment to Elba," Matthew spoke up. He didn't sound too excited, even though he had been bragging day in and day out about how great the whole thing was.

"That doesn't sound funny in the least. Where is the humor?" Grace asked, a confused look on her face. "It sounds kind of pointless to me."

Jillian grinned. "You just have to watch and see." She brushed some of her hair out of her face and sighed. "You should have been in it, Grace. Even if you were just makeup or something. It's not as fun at rehearsals without you."

"Yeah, well, I have a bit of a personal problem with the director," Grace answered, giving her friends a knowing look.

Matthew and Jillian broke down in laughter. The director happened to be none other then the trio's third grade teacher, the infamous Miss McGill. The woman had to been at least one hundred years old, with no known family. She never got married, never had any sort of decent relationship with anyone. Last they had checked, she was still living alone in a small, broken down house, with about fifty thousand smelly, sick cats. Grace had hated her since the first day of third grade, when she had separated her from Jillian, moving her to the other side of the room.

"We hate her, too," Jillian confessed, once she got her breath back. "But she cast Matthew and me as the leads, so we can't actually hold that much of a grudge against her in public."

Grace laughed as she leaned back against a huge rock. "You've got a point there. Although, we all know Matthew would have gotten it anyway," she teased, reaching over to pinch his cheek.

Matthew frowned and pulled his head away. "Cut it out," he complained, moving closer to Jillian, who was on the other side of him.

Jillian smiled at Matthew. "You have to admit you look like Napoleon," she said, ruffling his hair. He made a noise and then stood up, moving across from the both of the girls. Jillian just grinned at him. He did indeed look like the famous emperor with his dark hair, small body, and large head. Not to mention he was just about the shortest boy in the class. If you put a period costume on him, he looked hauntingly like Napoleon. Jillian, on the other hand, looked nothing like Josephine. Even with her wig and costume on, she was still stockier and had a different face shape. Only her acting skills had gotten her the part. And, she thought, maybe the fact that she had a cultured mannerism, thanks to Rose, and a good relationship with Matthew, which led to good chemistry on stage.

She was still thinking about the similarities and differences when Matthew's sudden outburst broke her thoughts. He jumped up quickly and then cursed heavily, startling the girls.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Grace asked, trying to make a joke. It didn't go over well, though, because Matthew just gave her a blank stare, and then turned toward Jillian.

"We've got to go, or we're going to be late for dress rehearsal," he said point blank, coming over and thrusting his watch in Jillian's face. Her eyes widened, and then she quickly jumped up. She groaned and then reached down to grab her coat.

"Crap," she complained. "Miss McGill is going to kill us. All right, Gracie, we'll see you later. The play starts at seven, but be there early. My parents will be there before six, so find them. Maybe Mom can get you a seat in the front." Rose was in charge of tickets for the play, something she had signed up for. Luke and Michael were working as ushers, and Jack was put in charge of making sure things were in order beforehand. Danielle was just going to hang around until the play started.

"Gotcha," Grace responded, as she stood up. She reached over and hugged the two others, Jillian first and the Matthew. "Good luck, you guys...break a leg!"

Jillian and Matthew both waved, and then started running down the beach, towards the direction of the school. Grace watched them until they were out of sight and then, with a sigh, turned to walk slowly home.

*****

"Rose, we have to go!" Jack, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs, paused for a moment, and when he didn't hear a response, he called again, louder this time.

"Rose?"

"I'm in the kitchen!"

Jack sighed and headed the opposite way of the stairs and towards her voice. There were going to be late if they didn't start to hurry. Rose had to be at the theater at 5:30 to help with tickets, and Jack had to be there a few minutes before to start helping backstage. It was already five o'clock; traffic was going to be an issue if they didn't get moving.

Entering the kitchen, he saw Rose standing by the sink. She was drinking a big glass of water and held a little bottle of multi-vitamins in her hands. She held up a finger, after setting the bottle down, and then threw her head back, swallowing the rest of the water. Finally, she set the glass down and then smiled at Jack.

"Sorry, darling," she said apologetically. She started fussing around, putting all the dirty dishes in the sink and running them under the water. "I go in next week, and Dr. Lennox is going to ask if I took these things," she explained, rolling her eyes at Jack.

Jack reached over and picked up the little brown bottle. He read the prescription, and then turned it over in his hands. "Why do you have to take these anyway?" he asked, shaking the bottle. "You didn't take any with the other kids and they turned out...somewhat okay." He chuckled at his own little joke.

Rose pretended to laugh and then grabbed the bottle from Jack. "At least you make yourself laugh," she mumbled, as she put it back in the medicine cabinet.

Jack rolled his eyes; pregnancy hormones. Rose would be cheerful one minute, and sarcastic and saucy the next. It used to be funny, but now Jack was kind of sick of it. He didn't want to say anything, though. One big fight was enough, and who knew how Rose would react if he brought up her attitude. It was better to leave it be. Sighing, he shook his head, and then cleared his throat. "Ah…we have to go."

"All right. I'm almost ready. I just need my jacket," Rose said, as she quickly put away a few extra dishes. She then smiled at Jack. "Will you find Danielle for me and make sure she's got some sort of coat or sweater...it's still chilly; we don't need her getting a cold."

Jack nodded. "Uh-huh. Where's everyone else?"

Rose thought as she walked over to the table and grabbed her long black jacket from off the back of a chair. She shrugged into it, and then said, "Let's see...Jillian was supposed to be at rehearsal three hours ago. And Michael took Luke down there about twenty minutes ago to make sure everything was set up for when we arrive. As long as they're still where I think they are, we'll find them at the theater." She smiled and chuckled at Jack. "Two months, and there'll be another one to look after."

Jack laughed. "Keeping track of five will be the real challenge." He grinned and then turned towards the direction of the stairs. "Danielle?" There was no response, and so Jack called again, louder this time.

"Jack, honey, don't yell at her like that," Rose absentmindedly chastised, as she rummaged through her purse for a tube of lipstick. She finally found some and was putting it on as Danielle called back that she was downstairs.

Jack mumbled something that Rose couldn't understand, and then started in the direction of their daughter's voice. She smiled at him; Jack, still her husband, still her best friend. They had gone through so much in their eighteen years together, and who knew what was next. She only knew that with Jack, she could and would make it through everything. She was still thinking about what could possibly come next when he came back upstairs, Danielle following behind. She had her coat on and was sulking.

"What's the matter, Deenie?"

Danielle looked up from her stare at the floor and sighed. "Nothing," she mumbled, as she walked past her parents and towards the front door.

Rose and Jack exchanged a look, and then followed her. On the way out the door, Jack grabbed his wife's hand and gave it a squeeze. Rose smiled at his gesture. Yep, she thought, it’s still the same.

*****

Ruth quietly opened up the theater door before her, and then sneaked inside. She was a few minutes late; the play had already started. The Marshals were at a family dinner in Los Angles with their daughter and her husband and children. They had invited Ruth to go along, but she had declined, not wanting to impose on their family time. Instead, she had decided to attended the play she had seen advertised in the paper.

When she finally found her seat in the fifth row and got situated, she glanced up at the stage and tried to figure out what she had missed. Thankfully, the story was just getting started, so she jumped in right away. She was enjoying herself when something peculiar struck her. The girl on stage, the one playing Josephine, struck her as familiar.

Ruth leaned forward in her seat and looked intently at the girl. And then, she was completely taken aback by the girl's overwhelming resemblance to her late daughter. Her body structure, her face, even the way she spoke, were all shades of Rose. And, even though the girl had a black wig on, she could see that her eyebrows were reddish brown. There were some obvious difference, though, and Ruth saw that it was indeed not Rose. There was just something about her, though, that struck her as haunting.

Ruth sat back in her chair and continued to stare at the girl. She tried to think of the last time she saw her sister, Katherine...it had been years and years ago. In fact, Ruth was pretty sure Rose had no idea she even had an aunt. Katherine had been the black sheep of the family, cast out at age sixteen because she had refused to marry the man her parents chose. Ruth had never really liked her sister, and had never told anyone about her. The whole reason she was even thinking about this now was because of Katherine's daughter Sarah, who had looked very much like Rose. They both had the same color of hair, undoubtedly inherited from Ruth and Katherine's own mother, and had a bit of the same mannerisms. It was possible that this could very well be Sarah's daughter, had Sarah gotten married and all that. But Ruth had no idea if she had or not. The last time she had seen the family was at Rose's funeral. The last she heard, Katherine, her husband Joseph, and Sarah had all died as a result of the 1918 flu. Sarah had been about twenty-three at the time, Ruth figured, so she very well could have left a baby and a husband behind.

It could be the only possibility, she thought, or it could just be an odd coincidence. Either way, anything else was ridiculous to even consider. Rose certainly had produced no children in her life, and this girl could not be her daughter.

Ruth signed in confusion and frustration, which caused several people around her to turn around and make hushing sounds. She mouthed sorry and then tried again to focus on the play. And, although she did eventually get her mind back on track somewhat, the resemblance of the girl to Rose stayed in the back of her head. It was just too striking to forget. And, even after the play ended and she got up to leave, she was thinking about it. She had to get to the bottom of it all.

Once outside, she picked up a program that someone had dropped on the lawn. She had arrived too late to get one earlier. Walking quickly, she began searching through the names in the cast list. They were listed alphabetically by the character’s first name, so once she found the Josephine Bonaparte she ran her hand over to the right of the column. She was just about to read the name when she ran into something that stopped her in her tracks.

"Pardon me," she mumbled, without looking up at first. She tried to find the name again, but then got distracted because the person whom she had run into had not moved. She finally looked up, and then, in sheer shock, gasped out loud.

Chapter Twenty-One
Stories