FALLING STARS
Chapter Five
December 24, 1912
Rose sighed irritably as she leaned down and
pulled a sheet of cookies from the oven. The hot metal burned through the thin
potholder, and she swore under her breath, dropping the cookie sheet on the
cutting board. Rose put her burnt fingers in her mouth and kicked the oven door
shut.
Glaring at the offending cookie sheet, Rose
took a spatula and scraped the cookies off it and onto a plate. It was the
first time she had ever attempted to bake cookies, and she had already thrown
away one badly burned batch. Eyeing the cookie sheet, she decided that she’d
had enough of baking cookies, and gingerly carried it over to be washed. She
just hoped that Jack appreciated her efforts.
As she cleaned up the kitchen, Rose yawned
tiredly. She longed for a nap, but whenever she lay down to sleep, the baby
woke up and started kicking. The kicking wasn’t really that hard, but with her
other worries and anxieties, it was just enough to keep her awake.
The baby was due in three or four weeks, and
Rose was worried about the birth. A part of her couldn’t wait for the baby to
be born, to be able to hold it and care for it, but another part was worried.
She was still concerned that something might be wrong with the baby, despite
its constant kicking and the fact that she hadn’t had any complications. Her
mother had borne one child after her, and everything had progressed
normally--up until the baby’s birth. Rose wasn’t sure what had happened, but
there had never been any newborn’s cry, and later her father had told her that
her little brother had died. The odds of the same thing happening to her were
low--the majority of babies were born just fine and grew up that way too, but
she still worried.
Added to those worries was the townspeople’s
continued ostracism of her. Her marriage to Jack had raised their opinions only
slightly, and she often felt lonely and isolated in the small house. She had
visited occasionally with Mrs. Allen, but she was usually busy running her
restaurant, and Rose had few friends.
Jack had suggested that she befriend Louise,
who had dropped by several times, but Rose was still suspicious of his
ex-girlfriend’s motives. Inside, she knew that she was being silly, that Jack
didn’t want anyone but her, but Louise’s presence still annoyed her. She wasn’t
at all certain that Louise had dropped by to see her, or that she was just
being friendly. Jack had never shown any sign of being interested in Louise,
but Rose still didn’t trust her.
Rose glanced at the clock; it was almost five
and Jack would be home soon. Putting the last of the clean dishes away, she
rummaged through the icebox, looking for something for dinner. She crouched
down, peering farther into the icebox, wishing that she had bought more than
just the food for their Christmas dinner tomorrow, but unwilling to endure the
stares of the townspeople any more than she had to.
Rose finally emerged with eggs, bacon,
cheese, and a cabbage. Rising with difficulty, she plopped the food on the
counter and pulled a can of green beans and half a loaf of bread from a
cupboard shelf. It wasn’t going to be the most conventional dinner, but it was
all she had the energy for right now. Pulling out a knife, she began to chop
the cabbage.
Around 5:30, she heard voices outside the
front and set her work aside to greet them. She recognized Jack’s voice, and
his laughter, but she wasn’t quite sure who the other voice belonged to; only
that it was high-pitched and female.
Rose opened the front door, and was greeted
with the sight of Jack and Louise standing just outside the front gate,
laughing over something. A sudden, irrational surge of jealousy washed over
her, as she watched her husband laughing with the pretty, slender brunette.
Rose suddenly felt very fat and ungainly, and she was about to go back into the
house when Jack saw her standing there.
Waving good-bye to Louise, he headed up the
front steps to greet Rose, only to have her abruptly walk inside and slam the door
in his face. Surprised and annoyed, he followed her inside.
Rose was already back in the kitchen,
attacking the concoction she had started with a spatula. When Jack walked up to
her, she turned her back, refusing to look at him.
"Rose, what’s going on?" he asked
her, putting his hand on her shoulder.
Rose shrugged his hand off and turned
abruptly, spattering grease across the wall with her spatula. "What were
you doing with her?" she demanded.
Jack sighed. "We were talking."
"And laughing."
"She said something funny. So
what?"
"What was so funny?"
"She had a story about a dog trying to
run across the icy porch and falling off. That’s all."
"I’ll bet." Rose scowled angrily.
"What was she doing here?"
"She lives just a block away, you know,
and she went to the market, like a lot of people, to buy food for tomorrow.
This house is along her way. I’m assuming you went shopping today, too."
"That has nothing to do with anything
and you know it! Why were you being so friendly with her?"
"Because we’re old friends." Jack
was trying to be calm and rational, but Rose was making it very difficult.
"She wants you back."
"No, she doesn’t. Things were over
before I even left, and that was over five years ago. I don’t know why you’re
acting so jealous of her--"
"I’m not jealous!"
"You’re sure acting like you are!"
"Fine. You think I’m jealous? Maybe it’s
because you think I have something to be jealous about."
"Rose, you know--"
"I don’t know anything, Jack. All I know
is that you were out there with her, laughing like you were having the time of
your life, while I slaved here over this stove!"
"You want me to help cook? I’ll help
cook. Just tell me what you need me to do."
Rose threw down the spatula. "You can
finish making dinner by yourself. You can eat by yourself, too. Or you can
invite your old girlfriend over. It’s all the same to me." She stalked out
of the kitchen with as much grace as she could, walking into the bedroom and
slamming the door.
Jack moved the pan off the stove so it
wouldn’t burn before following Rose. He tried to open the bedroom door, but she
had propped it shut with a chair.
"Rose, open the door!"
"No!"
"Dammit, Rose..."
"Don’t swear at me, Jack. You’re the one
at fault here."
"I’m the one at fault?"
"Oh, that’s right. Your old girlfriend
is to blame, too." Rose’s voice was laden with sarcasm.
"I don’t even know what you’re talking
about!"
"The hell you don’t! Think about it for
a minute."
"Rose, open the goddamned door!"
There was a shuffling sound, and the sound of
furniture being moved. Then the door flew open. Rose stood there with an
armload of pillows and blankets. She threw them at him, then slammed the door
again.
"Go find your own place to sleep!"
she snapped, as she pushed the chair back under the doorknob. "That nice
little house about a block from here should do!"
"Rose!"
She didn’t listen. Stalking over to the bed,
she kicked off her shoes and lay down, not even bothering to undress first. She
was hungry, and tired, and already regretting her part in their fight, but she
wasn’t about to come out and apologize. She’d had her fill of Jack’s old
girlfriend, and if he preferred Louise’s company to hers, that was his
prerogative.
Rose knew that she was being irrational, but
she didn’t care. She was worn out, tired of being gossiped about, worried about
the baby, and she felt more ungainly every day. Jack and Louise had just
happened to show up when she was ready to explode, and Jack had taken the brunt
of her irritation.
She heard Jack moving around in the kitchen,
and smelled the food, but she refused to go out and talk to him. She was still
irritated by Louise’s appearance at her front gate, and she wasn’t ready to
apologize to Jack for blowing up at him.
Rose finally changed her clothes, and crawled
under the covers, but sleep was a long time in coming.