Jack was holding her hat when Matilda reached the other side of the park. She was running so fast, she had trouble stopping. She doubled over, clutching her aching sides. Her lungs were on fire. Her corset dug into the tender flesh covering her ribs. "Th-thank you," she managed to gasp. Her face was blood red and beads of sweat covered her forehead.
"It's nothing," Jack said. He bent down. "Are you all right?"
She nodded. "I'm fine. I—I just wasn't thinking." Suddenly, she was all too aware of her position. She snapped back to her full height. Have you forgotten yourself completely? And then her aunt's voice joined in. Really, Matilda, what is wrong with you? Throwing yourself at a strange man like a common—word whispered so quietly even Una herself couldn't hear it. She reached for the hat. "I'm terribly sorry for your trouble."
He waved away her apology. "Don't worry about it," he said with a smile.
Matilda felt her cheeks growing hot again. There was something about him, something captivating—
"Matilda!" Una's voice clanged in her ears like a bell.
Matilda grabbed the hat out of Jack's hands. "Thank you again," she said quickly, before rushing toward the top of the hill where Una and Celia were waiting.
"What were you thinking?" Una scolded. "What possessed you to run off like a—a—" The only words she could think of were simply too vulgar to say.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Una." Matilda jammed the hat back on her head. "I don't know what I was thinking. It won't happen again."
"If you used hat pins like a sensible girl, this wouldn't have happened."
Matilda nodded. "Yes, Aunt Una."
Matilda watched as Una and Celia began to walk away and Celia began a two hour discussion of why Una was right. She knew it would be a matter of moments before they noticed she wasn't following, but she couldn't help herself. Holding her hat down with both hands, she turned around. She wanted one last look at the man whose smile made her blush, silly as it sounded. You'll never see him again. And for all you know, he's one of those shiftless drifters who would just as soon— Her eyes found Jack before she could finish the thought. He was sitting under a tree next to a woman. Matilda swallowed a gasp. Rose!
Her mind raced for the rest of the day. She didn't hear anything her aunt said. She replied to everything with a yes or how interesting.
Finally, Una, fed up with a portion of her audience's mind being elsewhere, sent her to bed. "You need a rest," she said. "All that running couldn't have been good for you."
In bed, and free to think without interruption, Matilda examined the events of the day. Had it really been Rose? It was her. I'm sure it was. But then that meant… That man was the one she ran away with. She sat bolt upright. That was the man she left Cal for!
She convinced Una to let her walk in the park alone the next day—of course, alone meant with a maid, but all it took to convince Bridget to walk one way while she walked another was a few dollars. She was determined to find Rose again. It didn't make sense. She didn't know what she would do or say when she found them. She just knew she had to.
They were by the lake this time. Rose was lounging on a blanket, barefoot, her red curls blowing in the breeze. She was laughing. Jack was sitting a few feet away, his portfolio across his lap. He's the man I saw sketching! Matilda thought. So, he was some sort of artist. Rose's choice was now either even more foolish or more romantic; she couldn't decide which.
She wasn't sure how long she had been watching them when Rose looked over and caught her eye. Her first instinct was to run, but she was frozen, unable to move a muscle. Rose's brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before a smile spread across her face. Matilda couldn't believe her eyes when she raised her hand and waved her over.
"I'm sorry for staring," Matilda said. Don't recognize me. Don't recognize me.
For whatever reason, Rose didn't. "I could stare at Jack here while he's drawing all day," she said. Jack ducked his head.
"Is he—are you any good?"
Jack shrugged. "You could say that."
Rose tousled his hair. "He's wonderful." Jack couldn't suppress a grin. "He's one of the most gifted artists I've ever seen," she added, laying her hand on his.
"May I see?" Matilda asked hesitantly.
Jack held out the portfolio. "Sure." He watched as she flipped through the drawings, noting the way her face changed with each one.
"She's right," Matilda said, handing it back. "You are gifted."
He squeezed Rose's hand. "It's just my beautiful model."
Matilda could have stood there and watched them forever. They were so obviously in love. They almost glowed with it. She really is happy now, she thought with a pang. It didn't seem right, somehow. Not that she wanted Rose to be unhappy. It was just—how could running away with a strange man—a poor strange man, no less—lead to such happiness? It didn't make sense. "Well, I must be going. Thank you for showing me your work. It's lovely."
*****
"That was a bit odd, wasn't it?" Rose asked as they walked home.
"Hmm?" Jack was watching an argument unfold between the people ahead of them. "Oh. You mean that girl? Yeah, that was a bit unusual, I guess. I've had girls come up and ask what I was drawing before, but never any as well dressed as her." He slipped an arm around Rose's waist. "Well, there was you, of course."
"I don't know why, but there was something familiar about her…I don't know what, though."
"Maybe she reminded you of someone you knew before?" he suggested. "You don't know anyone here, do you?"
"No. The only girls I knew are back in Philadelphia." Her eyes dimmed.
"Do you miss them?" he asked.
She shook her head. "It isn't that. I was just thinking how I can't miss any of them because we were never close. I didn't have any real friends."
He pulled her closer. "You've got me. I'll be your friend."
"You already are." She smiled. "You're my best friend."
He kissed her cheek. "Best friend and husband? I'm honored."
*****
Matilda didn't tell anyone about her discovery. She knew she should. The first thing she should do, she told herself, was march up to her aunt and tell her everything. But she held it in, difficult task though it was.
If I tell her, she'll know I went back on purpose. But all the same, Rose's mother had a right to know where she was. She deserved to know her daughter was safe and sound. And Cal deserved to know, too. She isn't going to marry him anymore, that much is for sure, but still he has a right to know nothing happened to her. Matilda lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He cares for her. They were engaged for months, and then to have her just disappear…