JOHN AND ROSE
Chapter Fifty-Six
November 10, 1931
Cedar Rapids, Iowa
Rose sat up straighter in her
seat as the train pulled into the station in Cedar Rapids. Mary, who was
sitting beside her, gave her a reassuring look as Rose peered out the window, wondering
who, if anyone, would be waiting for them.
When they disembarked the train a
few minutes later, each carrying a small child, Rose saw that Christopher was
waiting for them, eyeing the men working at the station warily as though afraid
he would get into trouble. She half-smiled, guessing that he had been riding
the rails and was afraid of getting caught.
Her smile faded when she saw the
grim look on her son’s face as he came towards them. "Hi, Mom. Hi,
Mary," he greeted them, but he had none of his usual enthusiasm. His
younger sister and brother stared at him, Jane reaching out to him when she
finally remembered who he was. Peter ducked his head and clung to his mother,
having no memory of his older brother.
"Christopher, I’m so glad
you’re home." Rose leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek, her
arms too full to hug him.
"Yeah…I guess I came home
just in time…I wasn’t expecting this to happen."
"How is she?" Mary
asked, handing her bags to her stepbrother.
Christopher looked surprised for
a moment, then uncomfortable. "I guess Uncle John’s telegram didn’t get to
you."
Rose shook her head, a lump
rising in her throat as she guessed what had happened. "It must have
missed us…we left only an hour after he called."
"Mom…Grandma Ruth died about
2:30 yesterday morning."
Rose gasped, a strangled sound
that frightened the baby in her arms. She turned her attention to soothing
Peter as he began to whimper, taking a moment to try to compose herself.
Mother is gone, she thought, lowering her head to hide
the tears that had suddenly filled her eyes. If only I hadn’t put her out of
the house, she might still be alive. If only I had come home when I finished
the picture, I would have at least gotten a chance to see her. Now she’s gone,
and I never had a chance to say I’m sorry. I never got a chance to say
good-bye.
She looked up as Mary took a
squalling Peter from her. Christopher dug through his pockets, finally handing
her a clean handkerchief. Gratefully, she took it from him and wiped her eyes,
only then realizing that she was sobbing.
Christopher wrapped an arm around
her, then took her bags.
"Come on, Mom. Let’s go
home."
*****
The house was silent when they
arrived. Christopher had informed them that Nadia was on her way and would
probably arrive early the next morning.
Rose thought that John would
probably be at work, but to her surprise, he was sitting at the table in the
kitchen, going over some paperwork. He looked up when she came in, then quickly
went back to what he was doing.
"So, you did decide to come
home. I wasn’t sure you would."
"Of course I did, John. She
was my mother…and it was time to come home, anyway."
"I take it Christopher told
you that she passed away?"
"Yes, he did." Rose
lowered her eyes. "John, I’m sorry. If only I’d come home sooner…"
"But you didn’t."
"I didn’t know."
He finally looked at her, pushing
the papers away. "You knew her health was poor even before you put her out
of the house."
"I never thought it would
come to this."
"You claim to have so much
compassion for others, and yet you put an old woman—your own mother—out
on the street because she did something you disagreed with."
"That’s unfair and you know
it! She almost cost two people their lives! And she wasn’t on the street—she
had friends she could go to, and you gave her a job!"
"Which was too much for
her."
"I’m not the one who offered
her a job that she couldn’t handle."
"No…you only made it so that
she had no choice. I tried to get her to go on relief, Rose. I even offered her
money, but she wouldn’t take it. She had a lot of pride, and she wasn’t going
to take charity—mine or the government’s."
"I find that hard to
believe, considering how happy she was to live with us whenever she could—and
how happy she was to try to marry me off to a rich man when I was barely
seventeen."
"Did it ever occur to you
that people can learn from their mistakes, that they can change? You’re still
angry and bitter over things that happened almost twenty years ago. And don’t
try to tell me that she intended to do Sam and Nadia harm by not speaking up
about what she overheard. None of us paid attention to the warnings. If even
one of us had, things might have been very different. But you insisted upon
blaming your mother because of something that happened decades ago."
"I never meant for any of
this to happen. She was my mother, John. I was angry, but I never wished for
her death."
"Whether you wished for it
or not, she’s gone. But if you hadn’t decided to hold a grudge over something
that happened a long time ago—something you’ve never explained to me—she might
still be alive. You never bothered to stop and think that she might not have
meant any harm in keeping what was essentially gossip to herself. You judged
her without thinking, just as you accused her of judging others."
Rose sank into a chair, tears
spilling down her cheeks. "It isn’t my fault. I can’t tell the
future."
"Neither could she, nor
anyone else."
"That’s exactly it…but now
you seem to be blaming me."
"You couldn’t even be
bothered to come home when you finished your film."
"I came as soon as you
called me!"
"She was worried about you.
Did you know that? She was afraid that you would stay in California, that you
would do something to destroy our marriage…and then regret it."
"Is that why you’re treating
me this way? Do you want a divorce?"
"Do you?"
Rose started to answer, then
stopped, realizing that she didn’t know what she wanted. "When is the
funeral?" she asked.
He stared at her for a moment,
knowing that she was avoiding his question. "It’s on Thursday, November
twelfth."
"Why was she working on a
Sunday, anyway? Aren’t you usually closed on Sundays?"
"There have been more orders
coming in, so I kept the mill open on Sunday to fill them. I paid people twice
their usual wages to work that day. She wanted to come in, so I let her."
"So, she was
overworked."
"It was her decision!"
They glared at each other, Rose
trying not to break down. "I wonder why she felt the need to work on her
day off. Maybe you didn’t pay her enough to live on."
"I paid her the same as
anyone else in her position. It was enough for other people—perhaps she felt
the need for more after living in comfort for so many years."
"Goddammit, John! It’s not
my fault!"
"I didn’t say it was."
"You’ve been saying it ever
since I came in here." Rose bit her lip, refusing to break down as she
wanted to.
"I think you feel like it’s
your fault."
"Maybe I do, but you don’t
have to agree with me! Look at you, sitting there and working on your paperwork
like nothing happened. She was just your mother-in-law—someone you often wished
would find a place of her own."
"Yes, I would have liked a
little more time with my wife and children and less of her interference. But
she was still family. And this paperwork, Rose? This is for her funeral."
Rose paled. "John, I…"
He sighed. "Rose, I’m sorry.
I think we got off on the wrong foot. You’re right. It’s not your fault. Her
health was poor even before she left…this probably would have happened
anyway." He reached for her hand, but she drew it away, shaking her head.
"Rose?"
"No, John, you were right in
the first place. If I hadn’t put her out of the house, she might be alive now.
Even if she wasn’t, she would have been comfortable in her last few months of
life. She would still have had her family around her."
"I saw her often, and
Christopher got back here just before…"
"I should have been here. I
was wrong to put her out, wrong to run off to California and make up excuses
not to come home. I was her daughter…and then I wasn’t there for her." She
got to her feet, her hands clenched so tightly her fingernails dug into her
skin.
"Rose…" John stood,
reaching towards her in an attempt to comfort her, but she brushed past him.
"No. Please, just leave me
alone right now. I abandoned my mother in her last days, and I don’t deserve
any comfort." She looked back at him, her eyes red and swollen. "And
if it’s a divorce you want, I won’t fight you. I know I behaved
abominably."
"Rose, I don’t—"
"Not now, John. I can’t
think right now. Maybe later, after everything’s said and done…then we can
discuss it. But right now, I just want to be alone."
With that, she walked out of the
kitchen, leaving him to his thoughts.