The women around her were talking in their usual polite tones about their usual polite topics, but Ruth didn't hear any of it. It had been over a month since Rose's disappearance, and despite her best efforts to keep up the appearance that everything was just fine, the cracks were beginning to show. She hadn't touched her tea, and it had been so long since she'd participated in the conversation a few of the other women had forgotten she was even there.
"I can't believe she came," whispered Sarah Sutherland, one of the women who were still aware of her presence.
Eleanor Stebbins covered her hand with her mouth. Leaning slightly toward Sarah, she replied, "Neither can I. With what's happened to her daughter, I'm surprised she's going out at all."
"What do you mean? She's just been sent away because of her lungs," Matilda Cushman whispered.
"Is that what you were told?" Sarah asked.
"What do you mean?" Matilda asked, giving them both confused looks.
"Dear, her daughter—" Eleanor lowered her voice as much as she could and still be heard, "Her daughter ran away."
Matilda's eyes widened; she stifled a gasp.
Sarah nodded. "She did. With a man."
"With whom?"
"No one knows," Eleanor said.
"I heard he was some drifter, someone she met in Europe," Sarah said.
Matilda couldn't believe her ears. With a man? Rose? "But why? She was engaged to—"
Eleanor shook her head. Sarah clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "That doesn't seem to have mattered," she said.
Matilda's mind was still teeming with questions long after she left. She kept trying to forget what Sarah and Eleanor had said, but it was impossible. Why would she do such a thing? What could she have been thinking?
"She'll regret it," Sarah had said.
"If she hasn't already," Eleanor added.
She had nodded in agreement. Yes, of course Rose would regret running away; how could she not? And yet…what if she isn't? Matilda furtively looked around; none of the people at dinner seemed to have heard her thought. What if she's happy?
*****
Had Rose been in the position to confirm or deny Matilda's musings, she would have answered, "I'm happier than I ever knew I could be," but she wasn't. However, she was in the position to answer Jack's question about her happiness, and that's exactly what she said before she threw her arms around him. "How can you even ask?"
"How can I know if I don't ask?" he teased.
"You would see it," she said solemnly.
Nodding, he cupped her cheek. She smiled, loving the way his hand felt. "I'd see you," he said. "I'll always see you."
Her heart began to beat faster. She fought the urge to kiss him. There were too many people around them, too many respectable matrons and too many small town businessmen bustling by. They would all stop and stare, wondering what kind of woman grabbed a man by the front of his shirt and kissed him until her lungs were about to burst. Not a very ladylike one, she thought, a laugh escaping.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing." She smiled up at him. "Weren't we on our way somewhere?"
In the month since their great escape, they had gone through three towns before finding one they liked. Rose hadn't wanted to stay in Pennsylvania, but Jack pointed out that it might be better to hide in plain sight for awhile. "Not that's he's coming anywhere near you," he added. And so they settled in Monroe, chosen as much for the lake on the edge of town as for its size. It was what Jack described as a big small town, a description he stuck to no matter how much Rose laughed at him.
"But that doesn't make any sense," she said. "If it isn't big and it isn't small, isn't it a medium?"
He shook his head. "That doesn't make sense either. Who ever heard of a medium town?"
"Who ever heard of a first class girl marrying a wandering artist?"
He grinned happily. "Got me there," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist. They had stayed in the second town long enough to secure a marriage license and find a judge willing to marry them, but as soon as the ceremony was over they were standing on the side of the road, thumbs out. A part of Jack wondered if he shouldn't be insisting they find a more reliable—and safer—way to travel, but one look at Rose's face silenced his doubts. She faced the road stretching out ahead, her curls flying back in the wind, a look of serene joy in her eyes, her lips curled up in a small smile. There was a lightness in her body he hadn't seen before, not even when they danced together. We’ll do this a few more times, he decided.
And now, over a month later, they were walking hand in hand along the edge of the lake. "So, are you happy?" Rose asked.
"How can you even ask?"
"You asked me," she pointed out. "Not ten minutes ago, I might add."
Chuckling, he pulled her closer. She giggled and let herself crash into him. "Hey, what are you trying to do, push me into the lake?" he asked.
A mischievous glint came into her eyes. "Maybe..." She pressed her hands against his chest.
"Rose," he said, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. "You wouldn't."
She took a step forward, forcing him to take a step back. "Maybe," she said again.
"Rose, I mean it. Don't." He took hold of her arms. "I'll pull you in with me."
"You wouldn't!"
"Sure about that?"
They stared at each other for a moment. "I wouldn't have pushed you in," she said finally.
"And I wouldn't have pulled you in," he said. He slipped his hands up to her shoulders. With a quick twist of her body she slipped out of his grasp. She turned and broke into a run. "Where're you going?" he asked, puzzled.
"Come find out!" she called over her shoulder.
He shook his head. "It's too hot!"
"Jack!"
"No!" He laughed. "Nuh-uh."
"Jack, come on!"
"Fine!"
He chased her around the lake. Every few seconds she would toss a glance over her shoulder. "I thought you would be able to run faster than that," she teased.
"I told you it's too hot!" he called back.
"You—" A sickening crack filled Rose's ears. Her words morphed into a yelp of surprise and pain. Suddenly, the ground was flying at her. She pressed the back of her hands to her chest, palms flat, just a split second before she crashed into the ground.
"Rose!" Jack threw himself down next to her. Her right leg was bent at an unnatural angle. She was breathing heavily. Her left arm was bleeding. Tears glistened in her eyes. "Oh, honey, are you okay?" He laid a hand on her shoulder. She nodded. He reached under her arms and gently pulled her into a sitting position. "Let's take a look at that leg," he said. She winced as he lightly ran a finger over her already swollen ankle. "Sorry." There was a dark bruise starting on her foot that ran all the way up her shin. "Let's get you back home."
"All right," she said softly. She held out her arms as he bent down. He lifted her up, being careful not to bump her injured leg. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "It will ruin your shirt."
"What will?"
"The blood. My leg's bleeding."
He glanced down; there was already a large stain forming on the front of his shirt. "Doesn't matter. It's just a shirt."
"You only have three."
"Yeah, well, I only have one of you." He kissed her. "And I'd rather have that, so let's go fix that leg."