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."

Chapter Ten
Stories