MAKING IT COUNT
Chapter Nine
Eggs
March 20, 1914
"I can’t believe it’s still
snowing," Rose mumbled from under the covers. "It seems like it
hasn’t stopped in weeks." Rose sighed and turned on her other side to face
John. "Good morning," she said, her tone suddenly turning cheerful.
"Well, good morning to you, too. Sleep
well?"
"Mmm…yes. I haven’t slept that well in a
long while," she said with a smile.
"That’s good. You know, we do have the
house to ourselves today. It’s the servants’ day off, and Molly took Hope on
her outing. So...that leaves just the two of us. What shall we do?" he
asked with a sly grin.
"I’m sure we’ll think of
something." She kissed him softly, then stood to dress. She had taken up
the habit lately of sleeping in the nude, something Lynn had actually
suggested. Lynn, of all people.
After they had both gotten dressed, they
headed downstairs. "Do you want something for breakfast?" John asked.
"You cook?" Rose asked, surprised.
"Yes, I cook. Does that surprise
you?" he asked.
"Well, yes, actually. So many things I
don’t know about you." Rose wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled.
"And I, you. That’s what makes it so
wonderful," he whispered.
"Whatever made you so smart?"
"Love." He leaned in and pressed
his forehead against hers, touching their noses together. He closed his eyes and
savored the moment. He made sure to enjoy every second he had with Rose. She
was precious to him.
"Are you all right, darling?" Rose
asked, noticing his change in behavior.
"Oh, yes. I’m fine," he replied,
opening his eyes. "I was just thinking. I love you," he whispered
softly.
"I love you, too," she whispered
back.
"Now, how about that breakfast?" He
started walking into the kitchen. Rose stared around for a moment. She had
never been in Molly’s kitchen before. She never had a reason to be.
"What do you want?" John asked
Rose.
"Whatever you have will be fine. I’m
going to go into the dining room to play the piano. Come and get me when you’re
done." She gave him a peck on the lips, then walked through a door to the
adjoined dining room.
John heard her start playing as he cracked
the eggs on the pan. He at least hoped that she liked eggs. He never really saw
her eat them. Then again, David never really made them.
Rose was distracted when she heard a crash
and John’s cursing. She rushed in to see John running his hand under the
faucet. She looked around and saw the pan and eggs laying on the floor by the
stove. She immediately knew what happened. Without a word, she gathered some
ice into a thin cloth and turned off the gas.
"Here," she said softly, "let
me see."
"I’m fine," he said sternly. Rose
had never heard him take that tone with her.
"Let me see," she persisted.
Finally, he gave in and he held out his hand.
He had burnt three of his fingers on his right hand. Rose placed the ice on the
burn and John winced, shutting his eyes.
Rose led him into the downstairs bathroom.
She opened the medicine chest and found the ointment she was looking for. She
spread it over John’s hand gently.
"That should make it feel a little
better." She looked into his eyes...they weren’t angry, but they weren’t
happy either.
"Why don’t you go sit down in the living
room? I’ll make breakfast."
"All right," he said with a flat
voice. He turned away from Rose and started walking away from her. Rose sighed
heavily.
"Men," she mumbled to herself.
Rose ventured back into the kitchen, where
she began to clean up the mess on the floor. After doing just that, she lit the
burner and replaced the pan again. After the eggs were done, she scraped them
onto two plates and walked into the informal dining area.
"John!" she called out. After a few
moments of no reply, she called again. "John!"
"I’m coming!" he yelled back.
He walked in and Rose just stared at him
angrily as he sat down and began to eat without her.
Rose suddenly decided she wasn’t hungry; she
walked out of the room without so much as a word. She walked up to their room
and locked the door behind her. She sat in the rocking chair and stared out the
window as if in a trance. The snow fell silently to the ground. The world
around her was covered in a blanket of angelic white. What beauty, Rose
thought to herself.
"Rose?" she heard from outside the
door.
After a short pause, she answered in a tone
that matched his previous. "What?"
"I...I’m sorry. Will you please open the
door?"
Rose stood and walked to the door. She turned
the lock angrily, then sat back in her rocking chair, returning her gaze
outside.
John walked in with his head hung low.
"Rose, I...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like that. I’m just used to
keeping to myself in situations like that." He tried to explain but to no
avail.
"I’m your fiancée, John. I think I
deserve a little better than that. I love you, and I’m going to help you
whenever you need help. And I would hope you do the same for me. But that won’t
work if you’re going to get angry over a stupid little incident like
that."
"I know, and I’m sorry," he said
sincerely. "It’s just an automatic reaction, I guess. But I’m going to
try, Rose. I really am." He looked at her, hoping she would understand.
She at last looked up at him, and saw he had
tears glassing his eyes over. "I know a lot about not wanting to accept
help...in different ways and forms. I understand, but please, John, don’t push
me away." She pleaded with her voice and her eyes.
"I won’t. I promise. Now, please, come
and have breakfast with me. It’s getting cold." He held out his left hand.
Rose stood and took his hand in hers, still not smiling just yet.
After they had finished taking breakfast,
Rose cleaned the dishes and put them away. She walked into the living room
where she saw John placing a few dry logs in the fireplace.
"The fire was getting low," he
explained. She sat on the couch and waited for him to join her.
John turned out all the lights in the room
and turned on the phonograph machine. It played a nice, soft tune. "Come
here," John said, extending his hand.
"What?"
"Dance with me."
"What? Here?"
"Yes. Why not?" John’s hand was
still placed before her. She reluctantly stood and took his hand. He placed his
other hand on the small of her back as she placed her hand on his shoulder. Her
head hung low as he led her around the living room floor.
"What’s wrong, Rose?" he asked
slowly.
"Nothing," she said with a sigh.
"I just...don’t feel right." John stopped dancing and lifted her
chin.
"Do you want to go lie down?"
"No, no. I’m not sick, I just...don’t
feel right. Do you know what I mean?" She placed her hand over her heart,
and her eyes pleaded for him to understand.
"Yes, I think I do. And it’s my
fault." John sighed sadly.
"No. I’ve just had a lot to think about
lately…with the wedding and all. Trust me, it’s nothing you did."
"But the way I acted, I--"
Rose placed her finger over John’s lips to
silence him. True, it was partially his fault, but Rose wasn’t going to let him
know that.
"Just keep on dancing. Okay?" Rose
asked sweetly. He nodded his head and put his hands back in place.
"No, like this." She put both his
hands on the small of her back. Then, she put her arms around his neck, resting
her head on his chest. She closed her eyes and became engulfed in the moment.
She felt his warm body surrounding her with love. She could hear his soft
heartbeat, beating in time with hers.
She sighed softly. "I love you,
John," she whispered.
"I love you, too. Are you feeling any
better, now?"
"A bit." She sighed again.
"Just being here with you will always make me feel better."
"I’ll always be here for you.
Always."
"I know," she said honestly.
"I know."