JOHN AND ROSE
Chapter Seven

Rose sat up, still holding Mary. Now that she was safe, Mary relaxed, holding her sore feet and crying quietly. She had never been so frightened and humiliated in her life.

"Mary, what happened? What are you doing out here?"

"I don't know!" Mary wailed, crying openly now. "Mr. Ross promised to put me in movies and make me a big star. Then he took me out to one of the warehouses and started taking pictures of me. Everything seemed okay at first, but then he started taking some...risque...pictures of me, and then he wanted to take a picture of me wearing this thing." She gestured to the torn corset. "And he wanted me to lie on this bed he had. I didn't want to, so I said so. He yanked this thing down, and then tore it when I pulled it back up. I accused him of not being a real director. He said that he was, and that all I would ever amount to was a porn queen. He wanted 'payment' for taking me to California..."

Rose had a fair idea of what kind of "payment" Ross had wanted. Helping Mary to her feet, she led her back in the direction of the car, stopping to pick up the coverlet the girl had dropped.

"Mary, did he get his 'payment'?" Rose held her breath, fearing the answer.

"No," Mary sniffed, wrapping the coverlet around herself. "He'd given me some high-heeled shoes to wear, and I kicked him in the stomach with one of them and got up. I grabbed this blanket and ran for the door. I think he'd intended to lock me in, but the lock was old and rusty, so he couldn't. And anyway, he wasn't very smart–he tried to grab me again, so I stomped on his foot. The heel broke off in his foot, and I ran out the door and got away. I couldn't keep wearing the shoes, though, so I took them off." She wiped her eyes, smiling a little. "I bet he'll limp for longer than me, even if I did step in some thorns and wander around all afternoon with no shoes on."

They had reached the car. Rose opened the passenger side door and let Mary in.

"I'll call the doctor to look at your feet when we get to the house," she promised Mary, starting the car and moving into the street. She didn't want to stay in this neighborhood at night any longer than she had to.

"No, no, no. I don't need any doctor, Aunt Rose. He'll want to know what happened, and then he'll laugh at me. I feel stupid enough already."

"I don't think he'll laugh at you, Mary. Dr. Peters is used to unusual house calls. Just last month, I had to call him to see Christopher, who, in his effort to show off for some girls, leaped a high fence and fell straight into a cactus."

Mary giggled in spite of herself. "I bet those girls were impressed then."

"I don't think 'impressed' is quite the word for it. They laughed, of course. Christopher tried to act like it didn't hurt, but when he got home he complained no end. Dr. Peters had the pleasant task of pulling cactus thorns out of his backside."

Mary giggled again, imagining Christopher's predicament then. "That's almost as bad as bruised feet."

"Worse. He could hardly sit down the next day." Rose paused, turning a corner as she headed back into the main part of the city. "Mary, he won't laugh, and he won't tell everyone about how you hurt your feet. He sees teenagers doing crazy things every day."

"Well...all right. But can I have some clothes to put on first?"

"Of course, Mary. You don't need to go around in that awful corset. I remember a time when I had to wear one. I hated them, and stopped when I got the chance."

"It digs into my skin."

"That's because you don't have a chemise. When I wore corsets, they were just so tight it was hard to breathe, and I didn't dare slouch. When we get home, I'll lend you some of my clothes. They'll be a little big, but better than that."

"Can I have something to eat, too? I haven't eaten since this morning."

"Sure. Food and clothes, coming right up. And if Christopher teases you, you have my permission to smack him."

"He doesn't...I mean, does he know anything about this?"

Rose nodded. "Your father called the night you disappeared. Nadia had informed him of where she thought you were going. I went to meet your train today, but it was early."

"I thought it was lucky that you weren't there to meet me. I figured you'd send me right back to Cedar Rapids."

"And risk having you get off the train at the first stop and come back here? No, I was planning to wait until your father and Nadia got here. They took a train the morning after you left, but it wasn't an express train, so I'm not sure when they'll get here." She slowed the car, turning into a wealthy residential area. "Why did you keep wandering around the warehouse district instead of coming back into the city?"

Mary hung her head, embarrassed. "I got lost."

Rose nodded sympathetically. "It's easy to get lost there. One of the pictures I was in was partly filmed there. Several actors–and the producer–got turned around in those streets, and other people had to go and find them."

"The producer got lost? That is bad." She thought for a moment. "How did you find me?"

Rose pulled into the driveway of her home, turning off the car. Mary got out, limping up to the front door.

"I asked everyone at the depot if they'd seen you. No one had, except for a wino. He pointed out which way you'd gone–toward the warehouse district. I drove around, looking for you, for several hours. It's hard to find one girl in this city. I was lucky that I saw you when I did–otherwise, you would have spent the night on the street. That's not good, especially for someone not used to big cities."

"I used to live in New York."

"But not on the streets." Rose unlocked the front door, letting them in. "Christopher!" she called, looking for her son. Recently, Christopher had developed a bad habit of sneaking off with his friends when she was away, a trait she suspected he had inherited from both her and Jack. Of course, even though she'd tried to sneak out as a young teenager didn't mean she wanted her son to do the same thing.

"Hey, Mom..." Christopher ran into the living room, then stopped when he saw Mary. His eyes widened.

Mary looked down, noticing that the coverlet had slipped down, giving the adolescent a good view of her half-exposed body. Scowling at him, she pulled the coverlet back up. He would undoubtedly tease her about this for weeks to come.

"Boy, somebody sure did try to discover you," he commented, still staring at her.

"Shut up, you little brat." Mary gave him a fierce look, which didn't faze Christopher in the least.

Rose's words, however, did. "Christopher, that's enough. I don't want to hear about you telling your friends about this–or anybody else. Got it?" She gave him a stern look.

"Yeah, Mom. I got it," he mumbled. Then, remembering why he'd been waiting for her, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a now rather crumpled piece of paper. "You got a telegram."

Rose took the paper, reading it quickly. Turning to Mary, she told her, "You'll be able to go home soon. This is from your father. He and Nadia should be here in the morning."

Mary's face showed her dismay. She had hoped for a couple of days to regain her dignity before facing her father and sister.

"Dad is going to kill me," she mumbled. "He'll never let me out of the house again. Why did Nadia have to tell him, anyway?" She forgot that a short time before, she'd been grateful for the fact that Nadia was a worrier who had undoubtedly told their father where she had gone.

"I bet he'll let you learn from your mistakes, like Mom does," Christopher told her in a surprisingly comforting voice. Then, as if remembering that he needed to tease her, he grinned and added, "I bet you won't do that again."

Mary just gave him a withering look.

*****

John and Nadia arrived late the next morning, looking tired and rumpled from the long train trip. It didn't quell their relief, however, at finding Mary safe and sound.

Nadia ran straight to her sister and hugged her. "Thank God you're okay! I was afraid you'd gotten yourself killed or something by that phony director."

"He was a real director," Mary defended, not wanting Nadia to think her a complete idiot. "He just wasn't the right kind."

"What kind was he?" John asked suspiciously. The man had used aliases and had had his business cards printed in Cedar Rapids, none of which made him look genuine.

"Well...uh...um..."

"What kind?" John asked again. Mary was an expert at talking around a subject without ever giving a direct answer.

Mary ducked her head, suddenly finding the carpet very interesting. "A dirty movies director," Mary finally mumbled, shuffling her feet.

"Dirty movies?!"

"Dad!" Nadia pleaded. "She didn't know."

Mumbling something about the stupidity of teenagers, John sat down on the couch, motioning for his daughters to sit next to him. Rose came into the room then, sitting down in an easy chair near the couch.

"Mary, what were you thinking?!" John's voice was restrained, but Mary could tell that he was very upset with her.

"I wanted to be an actress. I thought this was my big chance." Mary looked at him pleadingly. "Mr. Ross seemed sincere."

"Which is why he called himself John Adams when he bought the train tickets out of Cedar Rapids."

"John Adams?"

"You didn't know that?"

"No." She put her head in her hands. "I am so dumb!" she wailed.

"You sure are," Nadia agreed.

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"That's enough!" John and Rose shouted at the girls in unison. The teenagers stopped bickering, glaring at each other.

"Dad, I wanted to be an actress. I thought I'd been discovered. He seemed so nice, at least until we got here."

"Did he hurt you?" In spite of John's anger at his daughter, he was still concerned that harm had come to her.

"No. I got away from him before he could hurt me." Quickly, she repeated the story to her father and sister, leaving out a few of the more personal parts. Somehow, it was easier to talk about such things to Aunt Rose than to her father.

"Well, at least you're all right." John sighed, hugging his daughter. "But you're still in trouble. After we get back to Cedar Rapids, you're grounded. You won't be going anywhere except school and church, unless I'm along, until Thanksgiving. And you're going to let your hair grow back out, at least until you turn eighteen."

"Dad! I won't be eighteen for a year and a half!"

"Would you like me to add more?" he asked her, looking at her seriously.

"No!" Mary told him quickly, grateful that she'd gotten off this easily. She'd expected worse.

"Mary," Rose spoke up.

Mary looked at her. "Yes?" She half-expected some punishment while she was in Los Angeles, too.

"Remember how I told you that if you want to try to be in pictures after you turn eighteen and finish high school, I would introduce you to some people?"

"Yeah." She hung her head, assuming that Aunt Rose would no longer want to help her.

"Have you learned now why you should have waited?"

"Yeah, but Mr. Ross seemed to know so much..."

"When you're eighteen, if you still want to be in pictures, I'll help you. Until then, don't go running off with some slick gentleman who claims to be able to give you everything. There's an old quote from Shakespeare that's as true now as it was three hundred years ago–'The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman.' Be careful."

"Did you ever meet any men like that?"

Rose nodded, remembering. "When I was about your age, I became engaged to a man who promised me the world. He was very wealthy, very well-respected. I thought he was the ideal gentleman–until I got to know him. Then I saw his true colors."

"Was that Christopher's father?"

Rose shook her head. "No...Christopher's father was...someone else–a better man than the one I was engaged to."

Mary and Nadia stared at her, wide-eyed. This was the sort of thing that they weren't supposed to talk about, the sort of thing that people gossiped about. "Who was Christopher's father?" they asked, both deliciously scandalized.

Rose smiled. "Mr. Dawson."

"You mean Mr. Dawson wasn't the man you were engaged to? You were engaged more than once?" Nadia asked, a bit shocked.

"I...married Mr. Dawson after the end of the first engagement," Rose told them, remembering how she had taken off her engagement ring when Jack had drawn her–and then never put it on again. She glanced at John, who was listening to her explanation with a half smile. He knew more than the girls did about what had really happened, being old enough to remember the Titanic, but he didn't know the whole story. Rose had never told the full story to anyone.

"How romantic," Mary breathed, thinking of it. "And your husband died?"

"Yes." Rose lowered her eyes, remembering letting go of Jack's frozen hand and watching him sink into the water.

"So how come you never got married again?" Nadia wanted to know.

"I guess I just never met the right man," Rose told her, shrugging. "I've made my own life, Nadia. I don't need a husband. If I meet the right man, I'll marry again, but only if I know he's the right one."

"Me, too," Mary added. "We women can take of ourselves. I'm going to be an actress–a real actress–no matter what Mr. Ross thinks."

"I'm going to have a career, too," Nadia said. "I don't what yet, but I will. And I'm going to marry an educated man." Her parents would have been shocked at these ideas, but Nadia had grown up a well-to-do American, with far more opportunities than her parents had ever dreamed of.

"When will you be going back to Cedar Rapids?" Rose wanted to know.

"In two days," John told her. "I've already bought the tickets–including one for Mary. I'd hoped she'd be found."

"Well, I have to get over to the studio," Rose told them, standing. "I've already messed up one day of filming. I don't need to mess up another. The picture is almost finished, though, so it should only be a week or so more. I'll be back in the evening, so we can go somewhere–if it's all right with you." She looked at John.

"I suppose. As long as we're here, we might as well enjoy it. Mary's grounding can wait until we get home."

Mary perked up considerably at this. "Can we go to Santa Monica? That was where we went the last time we were here."

Rose nodded. "I suppose we could. It's different at night, but..."

"But I'll bet it's still fun."

"It is." Rose had gone to the pier several times over the years, sometimes alone and sometimes with Christopher, but she had always enjoyed it, always feeling close to Jack when she was there.

Glancing at the clock, she headed for the door. Halfway there, she turned back to them. "Mary, could you show your dad and Nadia to their rooms?" She raised a hand to silence John's protest. "I have plenty of room, and it's hardly a scandal to have you here with three young chaperones." She stopped, thinking. "Also, please keep an eye out for Christopher–sometimes he and his friends come here for lunch. And the housekeeper should be here in the early afternoon, so don't be concerned when she comes in. She has her own key. Help yourself to food from the kitchen–I went shopping early this morning, so there's plenty. I'll be back around 6:30." She picked up her purse and hurried away, heading for her car.

Mary looked at her father and sister, a little nervous now that Aunt Rose was no longer there to serve as a buffer between them, but they didn't seem to be too upset with her anymore.

"Uh...your rooms are up here. I picked them out for you this morning."

She headed for the stairs, limping, with the others following close behind.

Chapter Eight
Stories