A LADY NAMED ROSE
Chapter Seventy-One
He was thinner, paler. A trace of
five o'clock shadow spread across his jawline. In a word, he looked haggard.
Had he not been eating breakfast
at the Geisels' table, she might not have recognized him, yet it was
unmistakably her late fiancé.
"Rose." He stood, a bit
hesitantly, and made his way toward her.
She took a step back.
"Rose," he repeated,
and smiled, reaching for her hand. She expected his to be cold, but they were
warmer than her own, and his grip firm. "Darling, I've missed you so
much." She was startled to see his eyes were wet. Hers were quite dry. One
didn't cry real tears in dreams, did one?
"How could you miss
me?" she spoke, her voice remarkably calm. "You're dead."
There was a gasp of astonishment
from the table. Anna's other guest. Rose had nearly forgotten her already. The
woman eyed her haughtily from beneath the brim of her hat, making no move to
introduce herself.
"And whom might you
be?" Rose asked.
"This is--" Anna began,
but Sebastian stepped in.
"This is my mother, Elvira
Kraus."
"Figures!" Rose
snapped. "She's dead, too."
Elvira's eyes widened, and her
face turned the shade of a beet. Sebastian, however, threw back his head and
roared. He drew Rose into a tight embrace, lifting her stiff, unrelenting body
into the air until, at long last, her arms crept around his shoulders.
"Oh, Rose, I'm so bloody glad you haven't changed."
*****
"I have changed," she
insisted.
They were in the parlor. Everyone
else, thankfully, had left them alone.
Sebastian nodded. "I know,
Rose. Anna told me how you took the news of my demise. I'm so very, very
sorry."
"Are you?"
"Rose, look at me." She
wouldn't meet his eyes, so he raised her chin with his fingertips and forced
her. "I couldn't get word to you, or to anyone else in the States. I was
badly wounded. I may as well have been dead."
She winced; he apologized again.
She didn't bother reminding him that it had been nearly three years since she'd
last heard from him.
His version of the events of the
last three years was thus--while stationed in France near the German border, he
learned via a French officer who'd served in the same unit as his mother's
lover that she was alive and had escaped to the vacation home of a childhood
friend in Switzerland. He petitioned the Army for a furlough so that he could
travel to see her. Permission was months in coming. Out of frustration, he
decided to take an unscheduled leave of absence, and managed to get word to
this friend in Germany that he would meet her and her husband at the
French/Swiss border. It wasn't until the day of the meet that he discovered
that his message had been intercepted.
German soldiers captured Sebastian
and threw him into a prisoner of war camp. He knew none of the other prisoners
and was unable to contact anyone on the outside. For the next eight months, his
life was a constant hell of repeated interrogations, beatings, and torture. He
wouldn't elaborate, except to say his captors probably knew their side was
losing and were acting out of desperation. By the time he was released, the
fighting was coming to an end, but he didn't have the presence of mind to
return to his regiment, or even to remember where they were. Fortunately, he
still had the address of his mother's friend, and with the help of a fellow
prisoner he'd befriended, he arranged to meet her once again. He and his mother
were reunited at the friend's chateau in the Swiss Alps.
It took him another several
months to fully recover, and then he realized that he had a new problem.
"You were a deserter,"
Rose observed.
"Very astute, as
always." Sebastian smiled, but there was no humor in it. "I couldn't
very well return home. I'd be thrown into another prison."
"You could have told the
Army that you'd been caught."
"Caught in the act of
deserting."
She was quiet for a moment, then
said, "Sebastian, no one knew any of this."
"I know," he sighed.
"We were isolated. There were no phones where we lived, and I was too
paranoid to write any letters. I finally asked Elvira to send a telegram to my
Aunt Annabelle. She wrote me saying that you'd disappeared. I'd lost contact
with the Geisels. Once my mother felt it was safe to move back to Germany, I
decided to go with her."
"But you found the
Geisels."
"Thanks again to Elvira. She
looked up some of her old theater acquaintances and they'd gotten word that
Fritz wasn't well. That was just a month ago. We booked passage for New York as
soon as possible and spent Christmas with Aunt Annabelle." He paused, and
a pained expression crossed his face briefly. "The next day we phoned the
Geisels to tell them we were on our way."
"That's what Anna meant when
she said she tried to tell me," Rose said. "She's known for a
week."
"She had other things on her
mind. If it makes you feel any better, she didn't have a chance to tell anyone
else, either. Hans found out this morning when she sent him to the train
station to pick us up."
He'd finished his tale, and now
he wanted to know about her. But it would take days to explain how she ended up
meeting the Calverts in Wisconsin, much less her budding relationship with
Anderson. She excused herself, saying she was tired and needed time alone to
sort everything out. Sebastian's eyes burned a hole in her back as she mounted
the stairs.
At least she could be satisfied
that she'd heard the whole story, or so she thought.
After locking herself in her room
and pacing the floor for several minutes, she came to the conclusion that she
had to prevent Anderson from attending the funeral. She didn't know what she'd
use as an excuse, but she couldn't allow him and Sebastian to meet. However,
when she phoned his residence, there was no answer. She remembered belatedly
that he had mentioned something about checking on his mother's house, and she
was prevented from calling again later by Angelica.
There was a light in her friend's
eyes and a spring in her step that had been missing for months. She'd even dug
her Christmas evening dress, a rather frivolous and expensive purchase, out of
the garment bag she'd stored it in and ironed it to wear to dinner that
evening.
Rose was horrified. "Do you
think that's appropriate?"
"It's violet, Rose, close enough
to black. Anyway, Papa would hate for us to be so somber."
"I think he would
understand, given the circumstances." Rose didn't add that it wasn't the
color, but the plunging neckline that some might find objectionable.
As she expected, Angelica wore the
dress anyhow. Everyone at the table pretended not to notice, save Elvira, who
at least had the good graces to spare any comment. Conversation was stilted.
Elvira and Sebastian spoke of Fritz's theater friends in Germany, people whom
no one at the table knew, and of their cross-country journey by train.
Sebastian noted that he'd seen
the Daimler Benz in the drive. "Anna tells me that you drove it here from
New York," he said to Rose. "Impressive. Who rode with you?"
"Well, I--ah--"
"You drove that automobile
all that way? Are you out of your mind, girl?" Elvira demanded. "It
is dangerous enough on the road, let alone with a woman driving."
"Oh, Elvira, Rose is a very
safe driver," Sebastian scoffed. "Except for one little incident with
a garage door." He winked at Rose across the table.
Elvira huffed and barely spoke
for the rest of the meal.
When the dishes had been cleared,
Catherine suggested a game of poker; most were only too happy to join in. While
Angelica shuffled a deck of cards and Sebastian and Hans lit cigars, Elvira
contented herself by bouncing Li'l Max on her knee.
"Rose, you in?"
Catherine asked.
She shook her head and bade them
good night, saying she was sleepy. Hurrying upstairs, she tried once more to
phone Anderson. This time, he answered.
"Where have you been?"
He didn't respond right away. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I
don't know what's gotten into me. I suppose it's the funeral."
"It's to be expected.
Listen, I went back to Helene's today. She gave me a business card for this
producer she knows. She said she'd told you about him."
The party seemed a thousand years
past now. "Anderson--" she managed.
"Yes?"
She couldn't speak all of a
sudden. From downstairs came laughter, Sebastian's above all the other voices.
Such an odd sound, one she'd have to accustom herself to all over again.
"I'll see you
tomorrow," she finally squeaked.
"Sure thing. Get some rest,
sweetheart."
*****
St. Joseph's was a small Catholic
chapel where the Geisels worshipped just often enough to hold Angelica's wedding
and Li'l Max's christening there. Few of the congregants knew them very well
and Fritz's memorial service would be sparsely attended.
Sebastian wanted to drive his old
car, and Rose relented after catching a glimpse of his mother's face; that one
glance told her she was already on shaky ground with this woman and had better
watch her step. There was no use marring an already gloomy day with an argument
over something so trivial. The three of them rode in silence, trailing the
chauffeured car that carried Anna, her children, and Catherine. Max and his
parents awaited them outside of the church. His mother had offered to watch the
baby, but Angelica flatly refused and left him in the care of the housekeeper.
She apparently hadn't shared with
them the miracle of Sebastian's return. Three sets of jaws dropped when they
saw him behind the wheel of the Benz. Sebastian, undaunted, walked right up to
Max and offered a hand. "Max, my boy, good to see you. Fine son you
have."
Max looked at Rose. She ducked
into the chapel before anyone could say another word.
Anderson wasn't there yet. Rose
took a moment to pay her respects at the casket, and caught sight of an
enormous floral arrangement on the altar. Upon closer inspection she learned
that it was from Buster Keaton. Beside it was a smaller, but no less attractive
display; this one, to her surprise, came from the Mastersons.
"I hope I'm missed this much
when I'm gone." Anderson moved to her side and nodded at Buster's flowers.
An organist began to play softly.
Out of the corner of an eye, Rose spotted Sebastian walking up the aisle, his
mother on his arm. She grabbed Anderson by the arm and practically dragged him
to a pew. Catherine, bless her, sat beside them, and after viewing Fritz in
repose, Sebastian and Elvira slid into the bench behind them. Rose didn't turn
around once during the entire service.
As the coffin was closed, Rose
leaned over and whispered to Catherine so softly she couldn't be heard over
Anna and Angelica's sobs. "You can ride to the cemetery with Sebastian.
I'm going with Anderson."
Catherine squeezed her hand.
"Good luck, honey."
Outside, a crowd of curious
passers-by had gathered to stare at the carriage, drawn by two black plumed
horses, which would bear Fritz's casket to Forest Lawn Cemetery. Rose gave a
quick greeting to the priest and fled down the steps to the street, where
Anderson's car awaited. He followed, calling her name.
"Hey, slow down. What's the
rush?"
She had one hand on the passenger
side door handle, one foot on the sideboard, when he caught up with her.
"Wait, let me get that." He reached for her shoulder, and it was then
that he noticed her cheeks were damp.
"Oh, Rose, I'm sorry."
He gently spun her around and pulled her close. "He had a good life, a
good long life."
She was facing the church, and
could see Sebastian, his eyes wandering even as he engaged in conversation with
Angelica and Max, but he didn't see her. On the other hand, Elvira, who stood
stiffly off to one side, had spotted her. Their eyes locked. Rose looked away
from the woman's accusing glare and turned her back. "Can we go?
Please?"
"Rose, we have to wait for
everyone else," he objected, but he got in the car, and they waited in
silence for the procession to begin. She continued the charade at the gravesite;
while the priest read the 23rd Psalm and sprinkled a handful of dirt on the
coffin, she held Anderson's hand and dreaded the end of the burial service.
Afterwards, as Anderson lingered to give his sympathies to Anna, Rose realized
she wouldn't get away before Sebastian cornered her and wanted to know who
Anderson was. He'd finally managed to tear himself away from his mother and was
approaching her now...
Catherine intercepted him just in
time. Rose broke away from the other mourners and retreated to the safety of
Anderson's car. She was seated by the time he got there. He climbed into the
front seat beside her, and waited.
Finally, Rose said, "I have
to tell you something."
"That man, the one with
Catherine. You have a history with him."
She nodded. "How did--"
"How did I know? Maybe it's
the way he keeps ogling you. Or the way you've been tripping over your own feet
to get away from him."
"He's more than just an old
flame." She stared down at her gloved hands, entwined in a tight little
ball in her lap. "Three years ago he was my fiancé."
"Your what?"
"My fiancé, Sebastian. He
just got into town yesterday. He and his mother came to see Fritz, but they
were too late."
"You said your fiancé was
dead, Rose. Killed in the war, am I right?"
"He was only missing in
action," she tried to explain, but still she saw the skepticism on
Anderson's face, even as she described her own shock and denial from the day
before.
"So what does he plan to do
now? He can't stay in the country. The authorities are bound to find out."
"How?" Her voice had
taken on a pleading tone. "Are you going to report him?"
"Of course not. Do you
really believe I'd stoop to that?" He didn't wait for an answer, only
cranked the engine to life as those still gathered around the grave began to
drift to their cars. They didn't speak all the way back to the boarding house,
and he left the engine running as he helped her out.
"Aren't you going to stay
for the repast?" she asked, fighting a rising sense of panic.
"No, I have some work to
do," was his answer. His eyes flickered to the street, where the Daimler
Benz approached. "That's very kind of you, to allow someone you haven't
seen in years to drive your car."
"Anderson, wait--"
"Oh, before I forget."
He withdrew a card from inside his jacket pocket and handed it to her.
"Helene's producer friend."
The Benz turned into the drive,
just as the car bearing the Geisels pulled to a stop behind Anderson's car.
Sebastian stepped out of what was once his auto and watched Rose and Anderson,
puzzled.
"Don't go," she tried
one last time.
"I think you need to sort
things out," was his curt reply, and he was back in the driver's seat
before she could stop him. She wondered when she'd see him again.