Rose's Story

by Thomas Kinkade

  “Lead him back to the stalls,” Uncle Ned told her.

  With her right hand, Rose held both reins five inches below the bit, under Star’s chin, as she had been taught.

  “Come on now,” she said softly, “you’re fine, Star.”

  There was no response to her voice. It may be love at first sight for me, Rose thought, but certainly not for him. When she gave the reins a gentle tug and walked forward at his side, the horse followed, but it was clear that each step was unwilling.

  “I know, Star, I understand,” Rose murmured. “I know.”

  She led Star to the stall that Uncle Ned indicated. She was careful to open the door all the way and she pushed aside the latch so that nothing would jab Star in the side.

  Once in the stall, the horse hugged the far wall, as far from her as a large body in a small space would allow.

  “You see what I mean?” Uncle Ned said. “He hates people.”

  “Do you blame him?” Rose asked.

  “You won’t have a relationship with him,” Uncle Ned said. “Not a moment’s pleasure. It won’t be like Summer Glory.”

  “He is beautiful,” Lizabeth said, “but Nellie’s pretty, so why don’t you—”

  “Because Nellie doesn’t need me,” Rose said. “I can’t let him go. Please, Uncle Ned.”

  She felt Kat’s sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

  “Your stablehands won’t have to do a thing. I’ll take care of him, Uncle Ned. I’ll groom him myself, I know how, and—”

  “And muck out the stall and bring in fresh hay and water? That’s a day in, day out job and you’ll be busy with school.”

  “I’ll do it, Uncle Ned.”

  “How can you?” he asked.

  “I’ll help her,” Kat said. “I promise I will.”

  “So will I, whenever I can,” Amanda said.

  After a pause, Lizabeth said, “Me, too. I don’t know about actually mucking out a stall, but I’ll do something.”

  Uncle Ned scratched his head.

  “I promise I’ll keep up with my schoolwork.” Rose stood rigid, both hopeful and worried. “I’ll do everything I’m supposed to do.” She watched his every breath. “Please give Star a chance.”

  “All right, here’s what I’ll do,” Uncle Ned finally said. “I’ll wait until the horse show in North Menasha. That’s on April twenty-eighth. All kinds of buyers come to the auction there. Maybe Star can get into a better situation if you can manage to make him friendlier.”

  It was March nineteenth—that gave her six weeks. “Thank you, Uncle Ned!”

  “Don’t count on it, Rose. I think Midnight Star will break your heart.”

  five

  The four girls walked from Clayton Stables toward Lighthouse Lane along a curving, downhill road. Most of Cape Light was a thin finger of land jutting into the sea, but here, west of the village square, the town widened.

  They went by barns and freshly green pastures. They passed a horse pulling a plow through a field. The brown-black furrows behind him had a rich earthy smell. At Potter’s Orchard, rows and rows of apple trees were budding with delicate new leaves of the softest green.

  “Look at that! It makes me want to get my water-colors,” Kat said. “Maybe I’ll make paper with a border of pale spring leaves.”

  “Kat paints beautiful gift paper,” Lizabeth explained. “It’s sold at the general store and the book-shop on Pelican Street.”

  “And at the bakery,” Kat added. “I like doing it anyway, but I have to earn money to pay back Todd. He lent me five dollars when I really needed it and I still owe him two. He’s the best brother anyone could have!”

  “I wish I had brothers. Or sisters,” Rose said.

  “I wish I was an only child,” Lizabeth said. “There’s my sister, Tracy, who’s a terrible pest and—”

  “You don’t mean that. She’s only four and as cute as can be,” Amanda put in.

  “—and my brother, Christopher,” Lizabeth went on. “He just turned fifteen. He goes to the high school in Cranberry and he thinks that makes him the boss of everybody!”

  “Chris is nice when he’s not being sarcastic,” Kat said. “Brothers and sisters.” Lizabeth sighed. “Don’t you get so tired of taking care of Hannah?”

  “No,” Amanda said. “It’s the least I can do. Wait, I just had an idea! Hannah will be seven soon. That’s old enough for riding, isn’t it? If she takes a lesson at your uncle’s one afternoon a week, it would be fun for her and I could be with all of you at the stables! I’ll ask Father tonight.”

  “Maybe you’ll want lessons, too,” Rose said.

  “Father keeps our horse and carriage at Hayward’s Livery Stable off the green,” Amanda said, “I never even thought of riding before.”

  “Our horse and carriage are at the livery stable, too,” Lizabeth said, “but that’s different. They don’t wear saddles.” She looked at Rose. “Your father will probably use Hayward’s, too. It’s the closest to Lighthouse Lane.”

  Rose nodded. “I wish there was pasture for them near our houses.”

  “When Dobbins isn’t pulling our wagon,” Kat said, “he’s mostly out in the field behind the chicken coop. Todd and I ride him bareback sometimes, but he goes pretty much wherever he wants to. And that’s usually to the kitchen window for a handout from Ma.”

  The road joined Lighthouse Lane a few steps from Rose’s and Amanda’s homes. The girls paused for a moment, hesitant to separate; Lizabeth would go on toward the village square and Kat in the opposite direction toward the lighthouse.

  Lizabeth looked at Rose’s house. “I don’t remember a side entrance there.”

  “That was put in before we moved. It’s for my father’s office and waiting room.”

  “Oh, so a lot has been done already,” Lizabeth said.

  Rose nodded uncomfortably. She knew Lizabeth was curious to see the changes. But Rose could hear the syncopated piano, a clear sign that Momma was home.

  Amanda heard it, too. “That music! Who’s playing?”

  Why did it have to be so loud, and why did Momma have to play ragtime—that bawdy dance-hall music! “My mother,” Rose mumbled. Why didn’t she play “Für Elise” like any normal mother would!

  “She’s good,” Amanda said. “I love music and singing. I wish I could play the piano like that.”

  You don’t wish you could play the “Maple Leaf Rag,” Rose thought. That’s completely inappropriate for the minister’s daughter.

  Rose twisted her fingers together. She was sure they expected to be invited in. They expected to be introduced to Momma. Any second, one of them would ask her, and what would she say then?

  “I have to go,” Rose said abruptly. “I’m late. I’m supposed to do something.” Just before she whirled around to dash up her front path, she saw the startled expressions on their faces. They had to think she was terribly rude or peculiar or worse! She turned back at the door and called, “See you in school.”

  Kat nodded and Amanda half-waved, but they still had that puzzled look.

  As soon as Rose opened the front door, the piano playing stopped with one last flourish and Momma came sashaying into the hall, working her way around crates of all sizes.

  “There you are! Well, Rosie, how was your first day?”

  “It was good. I made some new friends in school, I like them so much! And Momma, then I went to Uncle Ned’s.”

  Momma smiled. “I thought so. Tell me the most important thing: Did you find a horse for yourself?”

  “Yes, Momma. Midnight Star. He’s a beautiful chestnut with a black mane.” She wished she could think of him with an easy heart.

  “Well, I hope your Midnight Star will be as lovable as Summer Glory. You had a wonderful day, didn’t you?” Momma smiled that brilliant smile with all her dimples showing. “So did I!”

  “You did?”

  “Cape Light is the friendliest town. First, some women came by with a bunch of daffodils and a casserole to welcome
us. Wasn’t that nice? It’s some kind of fish-and-potato dish. It doesn’t sound that tasty to me, but it comes in handy for our supper tonight. And one of them, a Mrs. Merchant, said her cook Ada has a sister Edna who needs a position. So starting next week, we’ll have a cook!”

  Mrs. Merchant? Lizabeth’s mother! Household help saw everything that was going on. What if Edna found out about Momma and talked to Ada? Then Lizabeth would know!

  “That’s not a good idea,” Rose said. “I think you should go to an employment agency.”

  “There are no employment agencies in Cape Light,” Momma said. “And a personal recommendation is always the best way. Why in the world would you think otherwise?”

  Rose shrugged.

  They made their way through the hall. “It’ll take a while to get all these crates unpacked, but I’m working on it.” Momma put her arm around Rose’s shoulders and led her into the parlor. “This room will be lovely. I’ll have that gloomy wallpaper removed, and paint the walls pale yellow. Oh, and one of the women invited me to come to the Ladies’ Quilting Society this evening. It’s a grand opportunity to meet more Cape Light women—though I can’t quite imagine myself quilting, can you? Well, I’ll try to learn how. There’s a lot of artistry to it.”

  Momma’s enthusiasm was contagious. She could make Rose believe that nothing but good things were in store for them. Rose knew she would turn this house into a delightful home, with pretty colors, and without the crowded jumble of ornaments and pictures that so many people favored.

  “I’m sure you’ll quilt beautifully if you put your mind to it,” Rose said.

  “Thank you, Rosie! Would you mind having supper now, so that I can get to the meeting in time? It seems people eat early and go to bed early here.”

  “That’s fine. I’m hungry anyway. Where’s Poppa?”

  “He’s still out on calls. He hasn’t even had a chance to hang up his license in the office. It’s as if Cape Light was holding its breath waiting for a doctor to move in. One broken arm…”

  Rose followed Momma into the dining room and they set the shining mahogany table with monogrammed napkins and silverware.

  “…heart palpitations, a baby with croup, and a fainting spell. Sorry, I still can’t find the tablecloths; I’ll hunt for them tomorrow.”

  Soon they were sitting opposite each other with plates of fish-and-potato casserole. It was quite spicy and it tasted better than it sounded.

  “I do wonder what people wear for quilting,” Momma said. “I don’t have the slightest idea. What do you think, Rosie?”

  It wasn’t like Momma to sound insecure about anything. Could even Momma be a tiny bit nervous about meeting new people?

  “They’ll love you, Momma, and you’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” Many times, Rose had seen people actually gasp at Momma’s beauty. And they’d be entranced by her sparkle, by the lilt in her voice, and by her bubbling laughter. Sometimes Rose was so very proud of her, though it wasn’t easy to be her quite unremarkable daughter. “But don’t wear your bloomers!”

  Momma raised her eyebrows. “I think I can judge when they’re appropriate and when they’re not.”

  “I just meant, they’ll love you at the Quilting Society…if you don’t say anything about suffragette things.”

  “I’ve told you, I prefer ‘suffragist.’ ‘Suffragette’ is another way of belittling us. And of course, I’m taking some pamphlets with me. It’s a grand opportunity to pass them out.”

  Rose couldn’t swallow another bite. “Momma, please don’t. The quilting ladies will be dead set against the vote.”

  “Not all of them, Rose. Maybe some fear their husbands will be angry. Or that entering a polling place is ‘unwomanly,’ whatever that means! Or that if their hired girls get the vote, they would demand better pay and working conditions.”

  “Momma, you wouldn’t talk to Edna about that if she comes to work for us!”

  “I certainly would.”

  “Don’t start that all over again, Momma. Not here!”

  “I have to do what I think is right,” Momma said.

  “You don’t give a thought to how it affects me and Father. You’ll make me lose all my friends!”

  “If you have real friends, nothing I do could matter.”

  “You think you can charm people all the time. You forget how quickly they turned on you. And the whole family! You offend people!”

  Momma put her fork down. “It’s far more offensive to have laws that don’t allow me to vote or own property in my own name, or even be the legal guardian of my child.”

  Momma’s lips were tight with anger, though her eyes looked wounded. She got up from the table. “Excuse me. I have to change for the meeting.”

  Rose watched Momma go upstairs. She could picture her passing out pamphlets at the Quilting Society. What a nightmare! Momma had to be stopped! Did Momma do these things to get even more attention than her beauty commanded? Well, it was the wrong kind of attention!

  Rose went into the hall and found the wooden box that contained the pamphlets. It was too heavy to lift. Rose could shove it a few inches across the floor. But then what? How could she get rid of it and where could she take it? She lifted the lid and looked at the top layer with distaste. WOMEN! STAND UP FOR YOUR RIGHTS NOW! The black block printing screamed from the page. In despair, Rose realized she had no plan and Momma would be on her way soon. And then an idea came to her: Hide it in plain sight!

  In a frantic hurry, Rose opened the other crates and boxes to check their contents. Pots and pans—no. Poppa’s books—no. Here were fluffy white bath towels. That would work. There was space between the pamphlets and the top of their box; Rose pressed the pamphlets down some more. Good, enough room to spread three bath towels on top. Rose closed the lid just as she heard Momma’s footsteps on the stairs. She scampered back to her chair in the dining room.

  It was horrible for Rose to sit still while Momma opened crate after crate. “You saw my pamphlets here this morning, didn’t you, Rose? I know they were here somewhere.”

  “Yes, Momma.” Rose got up to stand at the dining room door.

  “Why can’t I find them?” Momma opened the crate and Rose’s heart skipped.

  Momma glanced at the towels, and passed it by. She looked beautiful in a starched white shirtwaist with ruffled sleeves, but as she became more flustered, rushing to look in still more crates, her forehead became shiny with perspiration.

  It was hard for Rose not to help her. “Momma, you’ll be late. Why don’t you forget about them for now?”

  “It’s just a matter of finding the right box.” Her pretty shirtwaist was beginning to wilt. “I wanted to bring them with me tonight!” And, as she scraped her finger on another wooden lid, “Ow! A splinter!”

  Rose was almost choking with guilt. “Do you want me to get it out for you? Let me help you.”

  Momma sucked her finger. “There’s no time. I was late to begin with and now—” She looked distressed. “I suppose I’ll have to bring the pamphlets another time.”

  “You’d better go, Momma.” Rose could breathe again. Mission accomplished. But long after Momma left for the Quilting Society, Rose worried about what she might be doing and saying there.

  Later that night, after her usual God bless Poppa, Momma, Aunt Norma, Uncle Ned, and all your defenseless creatures—especially horses, Rose added: And please, God…save us all from bloomer girl parades in Cape Light!

  six

  The next day, just before sunrise, Rose met Aunt Norma at the stables. The sky over the barns was becoming light with streaks of gold and pink. They walked down the long aisle between stalls and when they came to Midnight Star’s, Rose reached over the door and offered Star an apple. The horse wouldn’t come closer to her and though she was prepared for that—it was only their first morning together—she was disappointed.

  “Put it in his feed bucket,” Aunt Norma said.

  Rose nodded. It always amazed Rose tha
t Aunt Norma had such a strong resemblance to Momma, but a fraction of an inch here and a small difference there and her features added up to no more than pleasant. Rose wondered if it had been terrible for her to have a younger sister who was a great beauty.

  “We feed a little and often because in nature horses graze most of the day,” Aunt Norma was saying. “Their stomachs need a steady supply of fiber for proper digestion.”

  “When he’s in the pasture, he eats grass, doesn’t he?” “Grass by itself isn’t nourishing enough. We feed the horses before they’re turned out in the morning—breakfast is early around here, Rose—and again in the afternoon and evening. A mix of hay, alfalfa, and oats.”

  Rose listened carefully, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off the sleek, muscular horse. Star stood motionless, ears back, the whites of his eyes showing.

  “Give him bran mash once a week. I’ll have one of the boys write down the recipe for you.”

  Rose nodded again. She needed to know all of this, but she couldn’t wait to be alone with Star, to whisper sweet words and break through his stony reserve.

  “Wait at least one hour after feeding before you exercise him. And never feed a hot horse. Make sure you cool him down after a workout. You don’t want to risk colic. Am I going too fast, Rose? I know you have to get to school.”

  “I have time, Aunt Norma. I’m keeping track.”

  “Do you want me to have a stablehand take care of his morning feedings? I don’t want this to be too hard on you.”

  “Thank you, but maybe I have a better chance to reach him if it’s me all the time.” And I have to reach him very soon, Rose thought. Today is March twentieth; April twenty-eighth isn’t that far away. “Anyway, my friends said they’d help.”

  “Even with the best of intentions, the chores might become a burden for them,” Aunt Norma said. “All right, let’s go on. Keep the feed buckets clean. And make sure he always has plenty of fresh water. You’ll need to scrub out the buckets every day. I guess that can wait until the afternoon when you have time after school. And Rose, if you have any questions, find me or Uncle Ned. We’re always around somewhere.”