TITANIC ROSE
Chapter Fifteen
"Oh, Myrtle, it's wonderful of you to
come!" Rose exclaimed, as she opened the door. Myrtle stood outside, her
hands shoved inside her fur muff. She shuddered and walked inside.
The snow blew into the door a little, leaving
a small puddle on the floor. Rose took Myrtle's coat and hung it on the rack.
Flurries flaked off and added to the puddle.
"What brings you here today?" Rose
asked, motioning for her to sit down in the parlor.
"Just to talk. I am feeling much better
now, and I haven't seen you in a while because of my illness." She sat in
the comfortable blue chair, the one Rose and Thomas often snuggled in on the
cold winter nights. With the fire crackling, it was a very cozy room.
"Oh, well, I'm glad you feel better. And
I have wonderful news," Rose said, sitting opposite her friend.
"Thomas and I are going to have a child."
"That's terrific!" Myrtle cried,
jumping in her seat. "I have wonderful news, too!"
"You and--"
"We're having a baby!" Myrtle
answered, clapping her hands. "That's why I was a little sick. I guess
some of us get it worse than others. Isn't this the best news? Our children can
play together! Oh, I am so excited!"
"Would you like a cup of coffee?"
Rose asked, suddenly remembering it was past lunchtime. "Or something to
eat? I was about to make lunch when you came. I'd enjoy the company."
"I'd love to stay," was Myrtle's
response as she leaned back in the chair. "My, this chair is comfy. I wish
I had one in my house. I'd sit in it all night and just curl up by the
fire."
"We do every night. It really makes this
house a home," Rose said from the kitchen door.
"Do you want some help?" Myrtle
asked, as she walked into the kitchen. "I can make very good chicken
soup."
"Oh, I'd like that. That's what we need
to hit the spot. Us mothers need to be cared for, too." Rose smiled at the
thought of being called a mother someday. Jacquelyn would never have a chance
to call Rose a mother.
They prepared quite a feast for lunch and
dined in the dining room. It was a celebration, really, of life and children.
Thomas had been happy, and they had celebrated as well, but this was somehow
different.
"Rose, I'm not feeling so well,"
Myrtle said, after they had finished eating. "I hate to have to cut our
lunch short, but I think I'd better start home."
"All right, Myrtle," Rose said,
helping her friend with her coat. "Be careful. It's freezing
outside."
"Thank you for lunch, Rose. Be sure to
stop by sometime."
"I will," Rose called to her as she
left. The snow poured into the house again, and Rose slammed the door shut.
Then she watched to make sure Myrtle made her way down the embankment safely.
So far, it had been a wonderful day. If only she had known.
*****
"Rose," came Thomas' weak voice as
he entered the front door.
"Thomas?" Rose asked, as she placed
the last of the clean pots in the cupboard. "Is something wrong? Oh, my
God!" she shrieked, as she saw the blood-soaked shirt covering Thomas'
chest.
Thomas held his hand to his face, his lip
split and his nose bleeding. His eye was black-and-blue, and his legs wobbled a
bit.
"Oh, sit down." Rose forced him
into a chair. "Thomas, what happened? Thomas? Thomas!"
Her husband sat unconscious before her. She
was helpless. What was she going to do? Quickly, she ran a piece of old cloth
under the faucet, making sure the water was cold. Then she washed his face
clean, hoping the wounds would heal nicely.
When Thomas awoke, Rose had moved him to the
couch in the parlor and removed his shirt, replacing it with a new one. She sat
staring into the fire, a cup of coffee in her hand.
"Rose?" he asked meekly.
"Oh, Thomas," Rose started. She put
her coffee on the table and leaned over to hug him. "I was so scared. What
happened? Tell me, what happened?"
"It's all a blur," Thomas answered,
feeling a bump on his forehead. Rose had placed a cold towel on it, in hopes of
making the swelling go down. "Some man was outside. He said his name was
John something. It started with a w. Then he just flat out punched me."
"Wait," Rose said, hurrying to the
window. The night was placid, except for a few snowflakes here and there. But
that was expected in the middle of winter.
She breathed a sigh of relief that John
wasn't there, and calmly returned to the couch. "I don't know anyone named
John, dear. I'm sorry. I wish I'd have met you outside like I usually do."
"And what could you have done?"
Thomas chuckled. "Fight him off with a stick?"
"I could have helped," Rose stated.
"I didn't mean to say you
couldn't," Thomas said seriously, realizing he had just hurt his wife's
feelings. He stroked her hair. It fell lusciously onto her shoulders. "I
just meant I didn't want you to end up like this."
"I'm just glad you're all right."
Rose kissed his cheek and hugged him close. "I don't know what I would
have done if you never woke up."
"So, how's the mommy-to-be?" Thomas
asked as she leaned back, sitting on his lap in front of the warm fire. He
placed a hand on her stomach.
"You won't feel it kicking yet,
Thomas." Rose giggled. "I've been pregnant a few weeks only."
"I just can't wait. I'm much too
impatient."
"No kidding," Rose said as he bent
over, kissing her neck. She wrapped her arms around him backwards, letting him
continue to kiss her. The room grew hotter as she turned around to meet his
kiss.
They lay down together on the couch, in the
common spoon position. Rose was tired and wanted to fall asleep in his arms.
"I love you, Rose," Thomas told her, as he touched her left breast.
He kissed her again.
"I love you, too, Thomas." Rose
smiled as she fell asleep.
*****
Rose threw the pillows on the couch, fixing
up the room a bit from sleeping there last night. Thomas was already at work,
feeling better since the encounter with John the previous day. She had wanted
him to stay home and recuperate, but he wanted to go and earn his money.
As she folded the fluffy blanket, she also
looked outside the window. What she saw almost made her faint. John was
standing at the opposite end of the yard, right by the path leading to the
lake.
Rose tossed the blanket down in a rage and
headed straight for the door. Without a coat, she still didn't feel a chill as
the anger boiled deep inside her.
"How dare you hit my husband!" Rose
shook a finger in front of his face as he glanced at her face.
"How dare you lie to me," John
answered, gulping his liquor. He twisted the cap back on and stood facing her,
his body twisting, he was so tall. "You told me the most outrageous of
lies."
"I had to," Rose said. "To
protect myself and my baby. Please don't bring up the past."
"Can't handle it?"
"I can handle it just fine, thank
you," Rose replied. She crossed her arms and directed her icy stare into
the snowy ground. "Please leave us. You have no need to be here. We have
no need of you."
"I won't leave until you come back to
me," John stepped closer, pressing his lips to hers. It was so filled with
passion, Rose almost thought it reminded her of Jack. But she pushed him to the
ground.
"Go away from here!" Rose ordered.
"Leave us be, you bastard! I hate you!"
"Fine," John said, breathing deeply
and wiping something from his chin. "I'll go for now. But I will come back
for you later."
He sauntered down the road, so full of
confidence and egotism it made Rose sick. How could he be so sure about them?
It made her detest the sight of him more. She ran into the house and bolted the
door, hoping she would never have to see his face again.