A LADY NAMED ROSE
Chapter Fifty-Two
Marie carefully removed Sir's and Josephine's
shoes and covered them with a wool blanket. The two huddled side by side on a
rug before the fireplace in the guest cottage and didn't stir. At the moment,
Marie and Rose were the only other people in the house, Marie having dispatched
Richard to the main house to let his mother know Josephine was spending the
night at the cottage. India was still struggling to help Lucy get outfitted for
the ball.
Rose was going to spend the night here, as
the mansion was filled with out-of-town guests and a new maid occupied her old
attic room. As soon as Richard left she'd described the episode with Cecilia,
careful to leave out any mention that the child claimed she could communicate
with someone Rose knew was dead.
"I want to believe she'll outgrow this
phase. It's not healthy," she said.
Marie was quiet for a moment, lining up the
children's shoes in a neat little row. "My mother would say it's not just
a phase," she finally spoke. "Back in Haiti many folk believe that
the spirits of the dead walk among the living. They say some of us can see and
talk with them—especially those who are dying themselves, and little children,
because their hearts and minds are so open."
This wasn't what Rose expected at all. She'd
actually hoped the levelheaded nurse would put a stop to Cecilia's fantasies.
"You're saying she sees dead people?"
"I'm not saying that at all. I'm just
telling you what other folks say." Marie looked at Sir as she talked,
avoiding Rose's eyes. "There was one time, though...I shouldn't tell you
this."
"I'm listening."
"All right. But don't you breathe a word
of this to the Scotts, you hear?"
Rose nodded.
"About a year ago, Mrs. Scott came to me
all upset. Seems Cecilia told her she'd talked to her grandfather. He told her
to 'tell Vicky to stop drinking so much.' Vicky was–"
"–his pet name for his daughter,"
Rose finished for her.
"You see why we can't tell the Scotts? That
woman's got too much on her mind without thinking her baby daughter's lost
hers." She looked again at Sir, and then at Josie. "This one here
just about killed herself today climbing a tree. Trying to keep up with the
boys." She chuckled, but her face was somber. "Couple of years from
now, they won't be playing together no more. Her parents'll probably want to
turn my nephew into a servant just like they did his sister."
Rose knew all too well the complexities and
unhappy realities of life in a wealthy household. She silently thanked the gods
that she was on her own...and remembered her roommate situation. There was no
way she could continue sharing an apartment with Diana. Marie's mother ran a
rooming house on 142nd St.; this was as good a time as any to
inquire if there were any rooms for let.
Marie didn't take Rose's request seriously.
"She lives pretty far uptown. And her other tenants are men."
"It's quite all right. There are trains
I can take–" She stopped at Marie's look of uncertainty. "Did I say
something wrong?"
"Oh, no...well, a young lady of your
upbringing...I just thought you wouldn't feel comfortable living with colored
folk."
Rose was puzzled. "Well, to tell the
truth I don't know any besides you and your family, and I feel very comfortable
with you."
Marie just shook her head, smiling; Rose was
beginning to wonder when she'd be let in on the joke when Marie said, "My
mother had a boarder who moved out on her with no notice. You'd have the whole
top floor to yourself."
Soon Marie grew sleepy awaiting India's
return and dozed off sitting up on the sofa. Rose went in search of a blanket
to cover her and discovered one in a stack of linens on a bedroom shelf. It had
been sloppily folded and she struggled awkwardly to pull it down, but she succeeded,
after yanking a few sheets and pillowcases to the floor—and a small black
notebook with a well-worn cover.
It had fallen open and landed face-down,
scattering loose sheets of paper about the floor. Rose scrambled around,
checking for page numbers so she could re-assemble the papers in the proper
order, but there were none, only dates at the top of each sheet and several
paragraphs in neat, compact handwriting.
It was a diary. Rose, overcome with
curiosity, couldn't keep herself from reading. India skipped a lot of dates but
everything she wrote spoke volumes...
15 October 1917
I'm so tired I can't keep my eyes open.
But I got to finish my homework assignments. Miss Macon says if I keep up my
marks I might could go to college next year and become a teacher like her, or
maybe even a nurse like Aunt Marie. I didn't tell her I want to be a writer.
I can't wait to get away from here. I hate
this place and these people.
27 October 1917
We went to Vassar today, me, Lucy, Missus
Scott and Mr. Randolph. The Missus wants Lucy to go to Vassar next year, but
all Lucy really wanted to do was go shopping, and make me carry her bags, even
though Mr. Randolph was there. Lucy don't care where she goes to school so long
as she meets up with some rich man that's gon set her up in his fancy house and
have maids wait on her hand and foot. She even had the nerve to ask me did I
want to keep working for her after she gets married! I told her no, and she
acted like I insulted her. I ain't gon be nobody's maid the rest of my life,
especially not hers. I hate that little witch.
19 November 1917
I just found out Bill won't be home for
Thanksgiving. Missus Scott says he probably got too much studying to do, but I
know where he'll be that whole weekend. Playing piano over to the juke joint.
He don't want to come here with them fighting all the time. None of them can
stand it in that house, not even daddy's girl Lucy. She's always talking about
how she's gon run away with her man. They don't know about him, though they
been stepping out since last summer.
I think I want to slip out of here myself
Thanksgiving and go see Bill play at Smokey's. But Auntie probably won't let me
go. I don't want to be here, got to eat in the kitchen like I'm trash. Bill
gets real mad about that. Sometimes he brings his plate in there with us. Mr.
Scott sure don't like that! He says the servants got to eat separate, and
that's that. But Arnolde told me that nurse they had before Aunt Marie didn't
eat in the kitchen. And Rose eats in the dining room with the family when she
comes here. They won't let her sit with us. Or maybe she think she's too good.
Bill likes her a lot, so do Auntie and Sir. I don't trust her myself. She puts
on airs, like maybe she ain't so poor as she claims to be.
24 November 1917
Well, I didn't get to go to Smokey's. When
Aunt Marie's man was leaving, I lay down in the back of his car thinking he'd
drive all the way back to New York without knowing I was there. But that damn
dog kept barking at the car and Auntie found me, of course. And she hollered at
me till I thought I was going deaf.
She knows about Bill, for sure. I told her
I was going to see my friends. She wouldn't hear of me going to a juke joint.
But she knows about him playing the piano there because some of Auntie's
friends go there to dance. She won't tell, she figures he's a grown man and he
can do what he wants. But she don't like to see me with him. Auntie's got eyes
in the back of her head when it comes to me and Sir and she knows when
something's up that she won't like. And when she sees how Bill looks at me her
lips get all tight and she finds me some chores to do. I got to hide this book
so she can't read it...
Suddenly there was a glimmer of lantern light
outside the window. Rose quickly drew the curtains and squatted between the two
narrow beds, shoving the pages of the journal back into some semblance of
order. India would know someone had read it, but she'd suspect her aunt or
brother. And, much as she hated for one of them to take the blame, Rose would
let her make that mistake, considering how India felt about her.
Hearing footsteps on the pathway, Rose
scurried into the living room with the blanket, threw it over Marie and
switched off the lamp on an end table before rushing back to the bedroom and
dousing the light in that room. Reading India's private musings had made her
paranoid; she didn't want to leave the impression that they were spying on her.
She had climbed into Sir's bed when the
cottage's front door opened. She had a clear view and was careful to lie very
still, lest India was able to see her. She needn't have worried. India had a
visitor. She and Bill lingered in the doorway, risking discovery, and whispered
together for a few moments; Rose couldn't make out what was being said. Then,
to her amazement, Bill leaned in close and wrapped India in an intimate embrace
which lasted nearly a full minute. India kissed him back with fierce passion.