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.

Chapter Seventy-Two
Stories