JOHN AND ROSE
Chapter Twenty-Two

July 29, 1927

Rose waltzed in the front door of the Calvert home, humming to herself. Everything was wonderful.

She had spent the two days since returning home from her honeymoon looking for a suitable place to set up as a movie studio, and had finally found just the spot on the outskirts of town, an old farm with a barn and several outbuildings, as well as two hundred acres of open land, some of it planted in trees, and with a creek running across it. It wasn’t the bright, sunny land of Hollywood, but it would do for an independent moving picture studio. She had purchased it early that afternoon, signing the papers that made it hers. The next step was to order equipment and find actors and a story to film.

Later in the afternoon, she had gone to see the doctor about the symptoms that had been plaguing her since the trip home. Much to her satisfaction, and relief, she had been right about the cause. Now all she had to do was tell her family.

*****

Rose cooked dinner herself that night, a feast of chicken, potato salad, fresh fruits and vegetables, and a peach pie. She even took a bottle of bootleg wine from the stash that John kept carefully hidden in a corner of the basement. Since it was a beautiful summer evening, she set a table outside for a picnic.

It was 7:30 before the whole family was home and ready for dinner. Christopher and Mary had been out with friends, Nadia had been spending a pleasant summer afternoon in the town library, and John had had a meeting after work. Rose was patient, though. Her news wasn’t going anywhere.

When everyone was finally seated a served, Rose tapped on her glass to get everyone’s attention. When Christopher and Mary had finally stopped bickering, she sat up straighter and set her fork down.

"I have an announcement to make," she told everyone, her eyes bright.

"Did you find a place for a movie studio?" Mary asked eagerly, knowing how Rose had been searching.

"Yes, I did, and I paid for it this afternoon. It’s a farm just outside of town with several good-sized outbuildings that can be made into sets. But that wasn’t what I was going to announce."

"What is it, then?" John asked. He suspected that he already knew, but he wanted to hear Rose say it.

Rose took a deep breath. "I’m going to have another baby."

"You are?" Nadia squealed, delighted at the thought.

"Aren’t you two too old to have babies?" Mary asked, not so sure she liked this idea.

"Mo-om," Christopher whined, embarrassed by the news. He couldn’t believe his mother and stepfather still wanted to do what it took to make babies.

"Yes, we’re having another baby," Rose confirmed. "And we are not too old."

"But Dad’s forty years old," Mary said. "When you get to be that old, uh…well…"

"Oh, shut up, Mary," Nadia told her. "Men can become fathers even when they’re really old, and Mom is only thirty-two."

"Thank you, Nadia," John responded wryly, not sure he liked being called really old.

"Why do you want to have another baby?" Christopher asked. "Aren’t we enough for you?"

"Christopher, we love all of you very much. That doesn’t mean we don’t want another child to love, too."

"But we’re almost grown up. Why don’t you just wait for grandchildren?"

"Because we want more children of our own, right now."

"Come on, Christopher," Mary told him. "We’ll have a little brother or sister who’s related to all of us."

"Related to both of you," Nadia corrected. "Not to me."

"Related to you, too, Nadia," John told her. "You’re as much my daughter as Mary is."

"But not by blood."

"Nevertheless…"

"What do you think of having a new baby, Dad?" Mary asked.

"It’s sooner than I expected it to happen, Mary—it took longer to have you—but I’m happy about it. Your mother and I talked about this just after we were married, and agreed that we wanted to have another child." He turned to Rose. "When is it due?"

"In mid-March, or thereabouts. It take long at all."

Christopher stared at his plate, turning bright red. "You shouldn’t do that," he told his mother, scraping his fork along his plate.

"Stop it, Christopher. There’s nothing wrong with having a baby."

"You always acted like you were so moral back home in California, and now you move out here and have a baby first thing."

"Christopher…there’s different standards for single women and married women. I’m married now."

He continued to stare at his plate. "Were you really married to my father?"

Mary and Nadia gasped at the question, shocked that he would ask such a thing. John leaned forward across the table.

"Christopher, show your mother some respect," he told him sternly.

"Whatever makes you ask that?" Rose wanted to know.

Christopher just shrugged, refusing to answer.

"Yes, Christopher, I was married to your father. It didn’t last long—he died in an accident soon after we were married, but you are legitimate." It was a lie, of course, but he didn’t need to know that. In her heart, Rose had been married to Jack, and there was no need to dredge up subjects that belonged in the past.

"You’re sure?"

"Yes, I’m sure."

"Okay." He didn’t look like he really believed her, though. Rose wondered if her mother or John had accidentally let something slip. No one else knew what had really happened, and neither of them knew everything.

"Mom?" Mary asked.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Are you still going to start your own movie studio, even though you’re having a new baby? I can help with the studio," she added hopefully.

"Of course I’m still starting it. It may take a little longer, but I’m still going to try. I would be glad for your help, though. You know this area better than I do."

"I can help, too," Nadia offered. "I came up with an idea for a script while you were gone."

"I’ll be glad to hear about it. Did you write any of it down?"

"Some of it. I’ll show you after dinner, okay?"

"Mom?" Christopher spoke up.

"Yes?"

"I’m sorry I was rude." He hung his head, tapping his fork against his now-empty plate. "I could help, too. I was in a moving picture before."

"Yes, I remember that. We’ll see what happens, okay? I thank you all for your help, but we’ll have to wait and see how things go."

"You’ll make it," John told her, smiling at her lovingly. "You’ve got the knowledge and talent, and we’ll back you up every step of the way."

"It may take it longer than I originally planned, with a baby on the way."

John shrugged. "I’ve noticed, as have you, that things frequently don’t go quite according to plan. You’ll work around it. Maybe you can even put the baby in a picture or two."

Rose laughed. "Maybe. Maybe I can appear in a picture as a mother-to-be."

"And I could play your sister," Mary added. "I’ll bet that Nadia could write a script like that."

Nadia nodded. "I could. I don’t want to be an actress, but I could be a good writer."

"We’ll work on that, Nadia. Okay?" Rose asked, starting to collect the dishes for washing.

"Let us do that, Mom," Mary told her, jumping up and taking the plates from Rose’s hand. "After all, you’re in a delicate condition."

Rose laughed at the thought. In a delicate condition, she had been housekeeper and nanny for the Calverts before Christopher was born, and in her current delicate condition, she had traveled all over the Angolan savanna, looking at the wildlife. There was nothing delicate about her condition, but she sat back nonetheless and let the girls clear the table, glaring at Christopher when he tried to avoid doing his share. It wasn’t often that the kids were so eager and willing to work, and she was going to take advantage of it while she could.

Chapter Twenty-Three
Stories