ROSEDALE IN APRIL
Chapter Two

From Rosedale Plantation, it was a long, arduous journey by carriage into the nearest town of Jefferson. Rose was uncharacteristically silent, deep in pensive thought. Forgoing the parasol that had been violently thrown into the opposite seat, her bonnet-less, bright copper head was laid back on the seat staring up into the cloudless, azure sky at heavens knew what. Closing her jade eyes against the beaming Texas sun, she let out her breath in a loud heaving sigh. Now what in blue blazes was swirling around in that highly spirited mind of hers…frustration, perhaps? Evidently, she was bothered and depressed for Lizzie noticed it from the moment they had hopped into the landau…her half-sister’s usual exuberance and vivaciousness were totally absent as they rode in absolute quiet. The horse-drawn carriage was steadily bumping along bouncing their delicate bottoms until they could barely hold their bladders. Suddenly, a bone-rattling jar prompted Lizzie’s introverted companion into a further state of extreme agitation and irritability.

"Damn it, Sam! Do you have to hit every God damn hole in the blasted road?"

"Miss Rose!" Lizzie shockingly admonished, her dark brown eyes as round as saucers.

"Oh, pardon me, Sam…Lizzie. I’m just not quite myself today for some reason. Sorry to take my sour mood out on both of you…shit!"

"Wassa matter, Miss Rose. You don’t look none too happy ‘bout goin’ to get fit for yo’ weddin’ dress…I hears last night yous and Massah Sturlin’ done had another row. He done gone an’ hit you, Miss Rose?"

"Oh, Lizzie…stop calling that infernal cad Master in my presence. He’s not your master, you know. Unfortunately, he just happens to be our damnable father!"

"Miss Rose…he still my massah in the white man’s world. He’s yo’ massah, too, in a way. Ain’t he?"

"Yes, he’s my master, too, dear sister. I hate his fucking…excuse me…guts!"

"Oh, Miss Rose, he sho’ nuf brings out the worst in ya!"

Lizzie ruefully shook her dark head at the unladylike vulgarities that always seem to slip out of her sister’s openly honest mouth whenever the Colonel was ever mentioned. But Lizzie noticed it had gotten decidedly worse in the last couple of tumultuous years…ever since Mistress Sable mysteriously fell down those stairs that she had been going up and down her entire life. Of course, Lizzie had her dark suspicions about the truth of that awful tragedy, but dared not ever voice them…to anyone.

"How’d you ever guess?" Rose wryly responded.

Nevertheless, Rose had to crookedly smile at her best friend’s albeit half-sister’s innate perception. She could tell Lizzie anything in confidence and knew her secret would never go any further. She didn’t know what she’d ever done throughout the years without her calming, loving presence in her life. Even more so, since her Mama’s death.

"What’cha git into it about this time? He makin’ you get hitched to that rich Yankee gent?"

"God, Lizzie…the man makes me literally sick at my stomach. The few times I’ve been around him, I could hardly wait to get away from him! And the thought of actually…you know…doing that with him makes me want to retch! Besides, I see something in Caledon Henley…cruelty, greed, selfishness…If he ever gets the chance to get his dirty hands on Rosedale…we’ll all suffer, I can just feel it!"

"Yes’sum…I does, too. We all does fo’ that matter. Our no account Paw done got you over a barrel or sumpin?"

"Or something is right. If I don’t marry Henley, I lose Rosedale…not only that…but something far worse…he’s threatened to…well, never mind!"

"Well, that’s bad enough, Miss Rose! I’za pray for a miracle to hap’in. We’s sho’ nuf gonna need one!"

Half smiling and frowning at the same time, Rose looked at her gorgeous, dear half-sister. Lizzie embodied all the best things in life. Kind, considerate, pure at heart, and gentle to a fault. She of all people didn’t deserve the hateful racial prejudice that constantly came from the ignorant, cold-hearted bigots that unfortunately included most narrow-minded folks in society…both North and South. And then she began to delve deeper into reflective thought, prejudice didn’t only recognize the boundaries of race…it also extended into one’s own race…for instance, social class. And if one expounded even further on another level…gender class. Although it was just a matter of time before the barbaric practice of slavery was abolished, sadly, Rose knew some forms of prejudice and intolerance would never die. Yes, many forms of prejudice ran deep and rampant everywhere one looked…and regrettably, it would probably always survive even if she lived to be a hundred.

"I sho’nuf glad I’z no rich white lady," Lizzie unexpectedly declared. At Rose’s raised questioning brow, Lizzie haltingly continued. "Cause I’z can marry who I want…and me’s and Charles. Well, Miss Rose, he done gone and ask’d me last night to be his wife! And I is…that is ifn the massah don’t sells me or Charles off to another white family!"

Still giddy with exhilaration at finally being asked to become Charles’ wife, Lizzie innocently and shyly began giggling, completely unaware of the choking turmoil that was boiling in Rose’s twisting heart.

Poor Liz just didn’t realize how close to the truth that possibility had gotten last night! Good God in heaven…Rose was going to be forced to marry Cal. There was no getting around it! She just couldn’t even begin to imagine the horrendous nightmare of Lizzie being hauled away in shackles from Rosedale screaming…sobbing…kicking…pleading while she and Charles could only stand back and helplessly watch and weep. And the worst of the matter was, Rose would be unable to do a damn thing to stop it! Unless…she married the Major. Her stomach began churning and she thought she was going to lose her breakfast! A violent shudder shook Rose’s entire body while her face paled as white as cotton. Quickly averting watery emerald eyes, she inhaled a deep calming breath trying to fight off the griping terror of what had to be done. Consequently, Rose knew she would bear her cross in silence…for in truth, she must be the sacrificial lamb for those she loved at Rosedale…the ones that never had the freedom of choice. Guiltily, she realized it was a small price to pay considering the horrendous alternatives that the Colonel promised. It was the only palatable solution!

Clenching her fists in the folds of her mint green skirt, Rose felt helplessly trapped by two supposed enemies, yet two conspiring allies whose mutual goals were to make her life a living hell on earth. At that instant, she didn’t know which man she hated more…a Confederate Colonel or a Union Army Major. Rose’s heart was slowly cracking as each minute brought her closer to the tragic end of an era…her beloved freedom. Biting the inside of her tongue to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs, she inwardly cried, Damn the man…may a bullet find its way into that cowardice, evil heart of his!

Inside the seamstress’ shop, Rose disinterestedly perused the stacks and piles of bolts upon bolts of various materials and ribbons appropriately intended for a young bride’s wedding gown. There were white and ivory silks, satins, tulles, and laces. Everything a betrothed girl could ever want or need for her supposed special day. Notwithstanding, nothing came close to fitting her dark mood…except maybe for mourning black! Out of the corner of her eye, Rose glimpsed Lizzie ogling a delicate, white lace veil in animated wishful fascination. Determinedly, she strolled over and gingerly lifted the stunning headpiece from its stand and appreciatively inspected it as if Rose herself was also in complete awe of the dainty, lacy bridal accessory.

"It’s absolutely gorgeous, isn’t it, Liz? Mrs. Johnston, could you wrap this up for us? I think this’ll do just fine!"

"It is lovely, dear. It’ll be perfect to highlight that gorgeous red hair of yours!" Mrs. Johnston, the proprietress, agreed.

"Um…" Rose secretly glimpsed at Lizzie’s dreamy countenance and could just barely detect the slightest hint of envy. Of course, Lizzie didn’t have any idea in that sweet, guileless mind of hers what Rose’s true intentions were. Dear Liz, she was just too perfect and angelic for her own damn good.

"Dammit, Liz…I wish I could be more like you!"

"Whatever do you mean, Miss Rose?" Lizzie was completely baffled and astounded at her sister’s off the wall complimentary remark.

"Oh," waving her hand in dismissal, "never mind…"

As Rose continued her slow, weary inspections of the dozens of fabrics, her bored, dull eyes languidly moved across the room to suddenly rest upon a pre-stitched dress hanging against the far back wall. Her peridot eyes widened in stark appreciation and hypnotically, she began to haltingly glide towards it as if she was in an overpowering trance. Staring at the most beautiful dress she had ever lain eyes on, Rose hesitantly extended her hand out to feel its texture…soft velvet with tiny sparkling beads sewn into the bodice. It boasted a matching wrap made out of sheer tulle netting. Crooking her head to the side, she tried to imagine it on her own body. It would be extremely tight and form fitting, accentuating her tiny waistline. It bespoke of a style that completely exposed the shoulders and collarbone. And cut so daringly low that it would showcase an extreme amount of ample cleavage. And thankfully, it wouldn’t allow for any crinolines, petticoats…or even a suffocating corset for that matter. Fitted past her hips, it would only permit the slightest of movements in her stride, to gently pool at her feet. It was perfect!

"Oh…and Mrs. Johnston…I’ll take this dress also!"

Mrs. Johnston glanced up and abruptly stopped boxing the veil while her mouth dropped comically open in surprise and shock.

"Miss DeWitt Bukater…but…but…I don’t think…that dress is for you!"

"What’s the matter with it, Mrs. Johnston? If fits my taste and my mood! What more could a girl ask for in the most special dress she’s ever going to wear?" Rose feigned innocence and ignorance at the woman’s incredulous objections.

Cupping her hand up to her mouth as if she were whispering a deep, dark secret, the couturier confidentially implored, "Miss…that dress…you can’t wear that…it’s just not proper!"

"Why not? It’s what I want!" Rose prettily pouted as if she were a child that had just been denied a piece of candy.

"But…but…Miss DeWitt Bukater…that’s…uh…oh dear…for one of those floozies that work down at Diamond Bessie’s…uh…uh…you know!"

Rose impishly grinned with a devilish twinkle in her magnolia leaf colored eyes.

"Who's Diamond Bessie? Whatever she paid for it…I’ll double the price!"

Rose was so enjoying this playful, deceitful game of sweet, unsuspecting innocence. She hadn’t had this much fun in ages. Ms. Goody Two-Shoes Johnston was stammering and protesting as if one of Bessie’s girls had the plague…or worst! It was all right for the hypocritical old codger to design and sew the prostitutes’ clothes while taking their hard-earned coin. But whenever the old battle-ax was finished with the garments, the girls were snobbishly instructed to enter through the back door to pick them up. They weren’t even allowed to be seen by the public frequenting the fine and upstanding establishment of the haughty, intolerant Mrs. Johnston. Of course, if truth were known, even Mr. Johnston visited Bessie’s girls from time to time. Another form of damnable prejudice in the works! Disgusting! And Rose was whole-heartedly enjoying rubbing her big, crooked, snooty nose in it!

"It’s not the money, Miss DeWitt Bukater! It’s the style and purpose of the dress. I was under the impression you were looking for a wedding dress!"

"I am, Mrs. Johnston!" Rose feigned ignorance.

"Miss DeWitt Bukater…but its color…surely you don’t mean to get married in…"

Rose never let her finish.

"I certainly do! If my father is going to sell me out like a whore, I might as well dress like one! Don’t you agree, Mrs. Johnston?"

The seamstress fainted dead away. Rose could only cackle and shake her head in amusement. Finally, after the proprietress had lain there in a very humiliating position for awhile, Rose turned to Lizzie, who was completely pale in embarrassment and numb in shock herself.

"Lizzie, I guess we better find the ol’ biddy’s smelling salts before somebody else comes in and finds her passed out with her legs…like that! Looks like a position one of Bessie’s girls might practice, huh?"

"Miss Rose…you should be ashamed of yourself!" Lizzie harshly reprimanded.

"Perhaps…but damned if I ain’t!"

While Lizzie was busy administering to Mrs. Johnston, Rose determinedly strolled over and picked up the fancy, sin-tempting dress. Holding the risqué gown up in front of her while intently perusing their reflection in the cheval mirror, Rose mischievously connived out loud, "Lizzie…what do you think? Scarlet and crimson for my wedding day?"

"Miss Rose! Surely not!"

Completely ignoring her, Rose continued talking more to herself than anyone in specific.

"Put my hair up in a twist with Mama’s ruby and diamond hair combs…wear my garnet dangling ear bobs…elbow length gloves of the same color…a bouquet of deep red roses…yes, I think that’ll do just fine!"

Walking over to the still unconscious dressmaker, Rose unceremoniously dropped a handful of silver dollars upon her supine overly large form.

"That ought to do it!" Picking up the package and dress, a sly calculated smile passed over Rose’s visage. Realizing that the old broad was coming to at last, Rose mischievously prodded further.

"Mrs. Johnston, don’t worry about the dress…I’ll stop by Diamond Bessie’s brothel myself and let her know I’ve bought the dress! I’m sure she’ll understand!"

And with that…the seamstress passed completely out…again.

In the carriage, Lizzie was shaking her dark head in exasperation and wonder.

"Miss Rose…why you go do that fo’! Like to caused that ol’ Mrs. Johnston’s heart to stop ticking nots jes’ once but twice! Lawdy, lawdy have mercy!"

"Oh, hush, Liz! The old bitch deserved it! And you know it as well as I do! Besides, I bought you something as a wedding present…and if I’m not badly mistaken, I think you’ll rather like it!"

As Rose excitedly handed the package that contained the lace veil to Lizzie, huge tears began furiously streaming down her awestruck face.

"Oh, Miss Rose…I’z jes’ can’t takes dis…issa too purty and…and…musta cost…a fo’tune!"

"Oh fiddle dee, Lizzie…you’re my sister…and what are sisters for if not to spoil and pamper on their wedding day! Charles is a very lucky man, you know! I think I must have a heart-to-heart chat with that gent! He better treat my best friend like a princess…or else!"

A somber albeit admiring expression passed across Lizzie’s grateful face.

"I loves you my sistah…I’d do anythin’ I could for ye…I’za gonna pray doubly hard for that miracle tonight! She can bet your sweet ass on that!"

This time it was Rose that hysterically laughed in shock and appreciation for Liz’s uncharacteristic cursing byword. Placing a slender hand across her chest, Rose’s mouth comically hung open in complete astonishment trying to catch an even breath.

"Lookey dere, Miss Rose…you is rubbin’ off on me bad! Nanny gonna switch my hide if’n she finds out!"

"Who’s going to tell her, Liz?" Something pulled at Rose’s melting heart. Suddenly, her entire world came down to this special person sitting next to her. Someone that she respected and loved above all others…a kindred spirit of sisterhood and friendship.

"Liz…I want you to know…I couldn’t love a full sister any more than I do you…and will do everything in my power to make your life happier than it is right now! I promise!"

For Rose DeWitt Bukater, there had never been a more peaceful and treasured moment in her short seventeen years than at that precise moment. She knew that specific measure of time would be embedded in her heart forever. And not surprisingly, Lizzie would cherish the tender words and hold on to it, also. Liz leaned across and placed a soft sisterly kiss on the glowing check, which was to her of the dearest, most generous person in the world.

Strangely embarrassed by such adoring affection, Rose impulsively gave the next instructions as if it were as commonplace as taking an evening stroll.

"Oh…Sam…take us to the saloon. I guess for proprieties’ sakes…you better take us around back!"

This time both Sam and Liz began vehemently objecting. Of course, Rose completely ignored them.

"Blah…blah…blah…hush your mouths…both of you! Quit being so hell fired prejudice! I told that old fat butted heifer that I’d go by Bessie’s place and I am…so just stop your talking back and hold your tongues…because I’m going…and that’s that!"

"But Miss Rose…I thought ye was jes’ funnin’ back dere!" Liz worriedly defended.

"Mistress Rose…Massah Sturlin’ gonna flay m’ hide good if hes finds out about dis…and yous too fo’ that madder!" Sam also added with frantic concern and foreboding.

"Oh, all right…you two park the buggy over there under those trees and I’ll walk. That way neither of you will get into any trouble if I’m seen! Just cool your heels for a bit."

"But Miss Rose…"

Ignoring their heated protestations, Rose picked up her skirt and agilely hopped down from the carriage.

"I’ll be back in as quick as a wink…now don’t you two worry like a bunch of old mother hens! I’ll be just fine…really! Ta-ta!"

Slightly out of breath, Rose loudly knocked on the back door of Diamond Bessie’s Saloon and Brothel. It never occurred to her that this was not proper or to be ashamed of her guileless actions. For the proprietress, Diamond Bessie, was in truth a dear old friend of Rose’s past. Marie, which was her given name, had been one of the gypsy children she had grown up with in her childhood and at one point time, had deemed to open up her own business on the banks of the river that ran along the edge of town. Rose laughed under her breath recalling when Marie had first told Rose of her life’s dreams…to start a brothel. The justification that Marie had always insisted upon was that if you had to bed a man…why not get paid something for it. Not only that, Marie had elaborated albeit quite successfully, that this way she could pick and chose her own lovers as a matter of free will. And that point of contention remarkably always sounded quite reasonable to Rose…for it wasn’t her place or business to judge anybody else’s life. And considering the path her life was heading down, to chose one’s own bed partner sounded quite liberating…and rational.

The door was suddenly flung wide and Marie opened her ruby painted mouth in stark surprise.

"Rosa! Good God almighty! Get yourself in here quick before somebody sees you! Damnation girl! You’ll get yourself excommunicated from polite society for being caught here!"

"Oh, Marie…I’ve missed you so!" Rose anxiously rushed into the Madame’s arms and the pair started giggling in complete girlish abandon and camaraderie.

"Look at you…still pretty as a picture! My, oh my! I’m so glad to see you! But, whatever in tarnation are you doing here? Need a job?"

Laughing and shaking her head, "No…not yet, Marie. But I do need one of them hand rolled smokes and a whiskey!"

"Well, come on, girl and let’s get you fixed up! Geez, we gotta lot to talk about!"

Rose and Marie talked for half an hour about old times until finally Rose animatedly relayed the tale in the dress shop about purchasing the red dress out from under Marie. They both guffawed so hard their sides ached at the vivid picture Rose painted of old Mrs. Johnston fainting twice during the visit.

"You’re still a pistol, Rose! Heaven help the man that gets you!"

Abruptly, Rose went absolute quiet. Instinctively, Marie noticed it and knew something terrible was bothering her old friend.

"All right…lay it on the table, Rose. Your ol’ good for nothing Paw trying to dictate your life for you, too?"

Rose could only slightly shrug and took a drag off her cigarette before chasing it down with a gulp of whiskey.

"Thought so…hypocritical, pompous-ass, selfish, glory seeking white men. Selling their daughters off like a bunch of whores to the highest bidder. For twelve pieces of silver. Judases, every last one of them. Even your grandfather, ol’ man DeWitt, ruthlessly sold off Miss Sable, God rest her soul. Made her life a living hell, the sorry bastard!"

"Whatever do you mean, Marie?"

"I shouldn’t have said anything, Rose. Just forget I ever said it."

"No, Marie…tell me!"

"Listen, sweetie…it ain’t my place to tell you nothing. I’ve said too much as it is. Tonight our people will be back in the usual place for their springtime visit. You know the spot. Go tomorrow night after they have time to set up camp. It’s time you had a heart to heart talk with Rafael Bouvier and Madame India. Those two need to be the ones that enlighten your past. Not me, sweetie!"

"Thank you, Marie. I guess I should embrace my past before I can start the future. But honestly, nothing surprises me anymore when it comes to men and their selfishness. Anyway, I best be going. Got some folks waiting on me; and I’ve already kept them worried too long as it is. You take care now…and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!"

"Rose DeWitt Bukater…you are a shameless lil’ hussy. If you need any pointers on how to satisfy a man, you just let Diamond Bessie here show you! Of course, with a body like that…I don’t suspect you’ll have no problem in that area for sure! You got all the right curves to drive a man crazy in lust! The man that gets you…ain’t never going to let you go!"

"Oh…and one more thing before you leave! I’ve got a little gift here to help you over those rough spots in the marriage bed!" Marie saw Rose’s surprise and sought to relieve her. "I’ve heard the news, sweetie. News travels fast in this joint. Poor baby…Major Caledon Henley! A damn dirty Yank, too! Oh well…it could be worse. At least he’s rich and easy on the eye!"

Under her breath yet still loud enough for Marie to hear, Rose doubtfully murmured, "Yea…a real prize, Marie. Wanna trade places?"

Marie threw back her head in laughter and slammed her palms on the table.

"Like I said before, Rose. You’re a pistol! Now open it up for I was pondering on how I was going to get this to you!"

"Marie…it’s just too beautiful…I absolutely love it! Thank you so much for you generosity and thoughtfulness! I’ll treasure it always. But of course, Cal doesn’t deserve to see me in anything this special or sexy!"

"Well save it for a lover then! To hell with Cal…besides, he’ll be going back to his damn war before long and you know what they say…when the cat’s away, the mice will play!"

Chuckling, Rose tilted her head to the side and carefully placed her slender, expressive hands on the black silk and lace negligee. Although it was exquisite and quite lovely, she just couldn’t imagine wearing it for Cal. For that matter, she just couldn’t imagine doing anything with the Yankee! And there it was again…that deep sinking feeling of helplessly falling…falling…falling into a dark cold pit.

Sighing, she closed the box and clasped it under her arm. Stubbing out her cigarette and draining the contents of her glass, Rose bent down to affectionately hug Marie’s neck.

"Gotta run, Marie. Destiny is calling. Be safe and happy, my friend!"

"You, too, Rose. And don’t worry. A miracle is about to happen. We’re due one you know! There’s gonna be a spring full moon out tomorrow night. Gonna be quite a celebration among us gypsies. Drinking, dancing, carousing…and whatever else strikes our fancy. Come down to the swamps and help us whoop it up! Maybe even howl at the full moon! Now don’t forget!"

"Have I ever?"

And for some mysterious reason, as Rose gently closed the door behind her…she was inexplicably light at heart again…and on the morrow a time for past secrets to be unraveled!

Chapter Three
Stories