JACK'S ROSE
Chapter Thirty-Five

 

"Hey there!" Andrew called, rushing after him. William turned. He looked at the young man questioningly.

"Yes?" William asked, stopping. The man struggled to get past all the people congesting the sidewalk.

"Andrew Gibson. My wife..." He heaved a great breath. "Is Susan. Rose's friend." Another breath.

"All right, then. I'm William Calvert," he said, extending his hand.

"I know." He paused, and then continued, "Where are you going? You know your way around the city?"

"Not really. Yesterday on the trolley I noticed a little shop that I wanted to go look at. There was a comb I thought Rose would..." He stopped.

Andrew chuckled. "Are you ever going to propose to her?"

William now chuckled, but not an amused chuckle. It was more of a simply exhausted sound. "Yes. God knows how much I want to, but I'm afraid—"

"She'll say no. I know exactly what you mean. I was scared to death to propose to Susan, but that look in her eye...they know. They can tell when you're about to propose. They know something is going to happen. And that sparkle in her eye is what gave me the confidence that made me go on with it. Just look for that twinkle." They stopped walking. "This the store?"

William turned and looked through the window. "How'd you know?"

"Instinct." He smiled. "I bought Susan's ring here."

*****

Rose smiled down at Nathan as he reached up to accept the bag the man was handing him.

"That'll be thirteen cents," the man said, looking at Rose. She fished out a dime and three pennies from her handbag and gave them to the man.

"So, Nathan, you're set for a while, then?" she asked, as they left the candy store. He looked up at her and smiled, shaking his head. He ate the candy as they walked down the street, his eyes peering into the shop windows. A city was obviously like a dream world to a small town boy.

Rose smiled as she thought of Jack on his first trip into a city.

Thinking of him no longer brought pain to her.

"Oh, Rosie!" Nathan suddenly exclaimed, letting her hand go and running up to one of the shop's windows. He pointed in it, jumping up and down. "Please, oh please!" he pleaded with her desperately. Rose laughed.

"All right, Nathan. Come on," she said, motioning for him to follow her. She led him through the door and into the shop.

He gazed about in wonder at all the treasures. There were sketchpads, portfolios, pens, pencils, ink wells, quills, ink bottles, all different sorts of papers, and paints. An artist's heaven. And Nathan certainly was—like his father—an artist. He had a portfolio of his drawings that he carried with him constantly. He was, in every likelihood, his father.

"Can I help you?" the man behind the counter asked. Rose looked up at him and smiled.

"Yes." She was going to be completely broke by the day's end, but she didn't care. "Nathan, what would you like?"

"Everything," he whispered in awe. Both the man and Rose laughed. Nathan looked at them indignantly, then turned to Rose. "I need some paper."

"Well, what kind, young man?" the man asked. Nathan looked over at him.

"I draw with charcoal," he told him proudly.

"Hmm. Then I would suppose you need some of this," he said, walking to a shelf. "How much do you need?"

"A few sheets," Nathan answered, trying to act "grown-up." Rose smiled.

"Say twenty," Rose answered for Nathan.

"Ten cents," the man said, beginning to count out the paper.

"Is there anything else you need, Nathan? Any pencils or anything?"

"We've got some great charcoal pencils over here. Different hardnesses, I guess it's called, too. Soft," he said, picking one up, "medium, hard."

Rose laughed. It was all too much for her.

"Medium," Nathan said, confidently.

"Right. One medium charcoal pencil, five cents, and twenty sheets of paper, ten cents. Your bill is a grand total of fifteen cents," he said, scribbling down the totals on a receipt. Rose handed him the money and he handed Nathan the bag.

Rose and Nathan turned to leave, but the man's voice stopped them at the door. "Hey, Miss Dawson, great show last Friday. I'll be there tonight to see ya again."

Rose blushed. "Thank you, sir." And she and Nathan hurried out the door.

"Can we watch tonight, Aunt Rose?" Nathan asked, taking her hand again.

"Of course, Nathan. But they're long. Are you sure you can stay awake that long?" she asked happily as they started down the sidewalk once more.

"I'm a big boy! I can stay up!"

"You certainly are a big boy! I suppose I can't say no, then. You can have front row seats. That way you can see the orchestra, too."

"Goody!" Nathan said, popping the rest of his candy into his mouth. Rose laughed.

"Well, look who's here," they heard someone say. Rose turned.

"Hello, Andrew, William." Rose paused, then smiled slyly. "What are you doing with him, Andrew? Taking him out to the bars, I suppose?" Rose teased.

"Yeah. We just got back from Mike's. Can't you smell it?" Andrew bantered back. Rose laughed.

"Well, I certainly hope you didn't show him too much there at Mike's. I have a feeling those girls are more than waitresses."

Both William and Nathan stood silently, both confused.

Rose and Andrew laughed.

"It looks like you did some shopping, Will," Rose said, changing the subject. "What'd ya get?"

"Nothing," he said, drawing away.

"Then you're carrying a bag around for nothing, I suppose."

"Mmm hmm."

"William, please let me see!" Rose pleaded, looking at him.

"You'll see soon enough, nosy one," William said, shoving the bag behind his back. "Now, shoo."

"Shoo?"

"Shoo, fly, shoo!" Nathan echoed.

"So, I'm a fly now, am I, Nathan?" Rose asked, pretending to be hurt. She looked away.

"No! Aunt Rosie, you're a...a...a rose!" he said in all the seven-year-old charm a child could have. Rose laughed and smiled at him.

"Thank you, Nathan. Well, boys, we should be heading back. I've got a show tonight."

"You certainly do. And we'll be there," Andrew said, starting down the sidewalk again. "Ta-ta!"

"See you later, little man," William said, waving to Nathan. "Bye, Rose."

She nodded and then took Nathan's hand and started back toward the theater.

Chapter Thirty-Six
Stories