“Good morning, sleepyheads,” Rosie said as we walked into the kitchen. “I thought I heard you up and moving, so I started breakfast. I made us something substantial today just in case dinner is a long way off.”
I put Georgia in her baby seat and set the table. “I need to stop by the store for just one minute this morning,” I said. “Dottie and Ray are going to come by and drive you over to Pete’s. Georgia and I will meet you there.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” said Rosie. “Today is a holiday. We don’t do business on holidays.”
“I’m not opening the store,” I explained. “I just have to pick something up. I made a little gift for Pete to thank him for inviting us today. I forgot it at the store yesterday. It will only take me a minute. Georgia and I will probably beat you over to Pete’s.”
Georgia and I set out for the store about a half hour before Dottie and Ray were expected at the house. This turned out to be the perfect timing. I walked up to Pete’s house just as Ray pulled his car into the driveway. When I saw Ray get out from behind the wheel dressed in a suit and tie, I was glad I had worn my good dress.
Back home, we didn’t dress up for the holiday. All work on the farm stopped by breakfast on Thanksgiving Day. This, of course, left the whole family packed into our tiny house. Things tended to get ugly fast, and by mid-morning Daddy would send anyone not able to help with the cooking out into the fields to do their whooping and hollering. Jeans and coveralls were more suited for a Miller Thanksgiving than dresses and suits.
I put the basket on the hood of Ray’s car so we could arrange the breads inside of it. I was almost too busy concentrating on how pretty that basket looked to notice the corsages Rosie and Dottie were wearing. They were the kind of thing though that once they caught your eye, you just couldn’t look away, no matter how hard you tried. Each corsage was an arrangement of red, yellow, and orange flowers and ribbons. Each one was bigger than Baby Girl’s head. I stood there staring at them, speechless.
“Don’t you worry,” Ray said, smiling. “We didn’t forget you.” He opened his trunk and pulled out a white cardboard box.
I looked at the box, picturing one side of my chest collapsing under the weight of one those corsages. I gulped and prepared my thanks. “You shouldn’t have,” I said.
“Nonsense. Ray buys me a corsage every year. Your day shouldn’t be any less special than mine. I hope you don’t mind that your corsage is a little different from ours,” Dottie said. “But I didn’t think you would want to be wearing a straight pin while carrying the baby.”
I let out my breath and smiled, probably more than I should have. “I don’t mind at all,” I said. “I think it was real thoughtful of you to consider Georgia’s comfort and safety.” I opened the lid of the box.
“Let me help you with that,” Ray said. He lifted the corsage from the box and slid the gold elastic band over my hand. Flowers stretched from my wrist to my elbow.
“Thank you,” I said. I’m ashamed to admit that my feelings of appreciation were overshadowed by my trying to figure out how long I had to wear that little garden before finding an excuse to plant it back in the box.
Pete did the holiday justice, giving us all plenty to be thankful for that day. When he brought out the desserts, Rosie asked if everyone could wait a bit before indulging our sweet tooth. “Lily promised me she would stop by for dessert,” she explained.
She had barely gotten the words out of her mouth when the doorbell rang. Pete came back into the dining room with Lily and John in tow. His arms were filled with another basket of goodies. He put down the basket and pulled another chair over to the table, so Lily could sit beside Rosie. Ray stood up and said, “We have room for you down here, John,” he said, placing a chair beside mine and winking in my direction.
I wanted to disappear into the rug below me. I wondered if there was anyone in town who didn’t know John had caught my eye. I was grateful when Dottie started a conversation at the other end of the table. I stayed quiet, and I noticed Lily did too. Much as Dottie tried, she couldn’t coax more than a few polite phrases from Lily’s lips. After we enjoyed enough desserts to last us until Christmas, Ray stood up and stretched.
“You give one hell of a party, Pete,” Ray said. He rubbed his stomach. “That was some spread you put out. I hate to be the wet blanket, but it’s time for me to call it a night. I have to get up extra early tomorrow to get a jump on all those shoppers. If I don’t keep pouring coffee in them, they might be too tired to keep on shopping.” He laughed and bowed to Rosie. “I hope you don’t mind us leaving a little early, Rosie.”
Rosie accepted his arm and allowed him to lift her to her feet. Dottie was standing by with their coats. I dressed Baby Girl for the trip home, thanked Pete, and leaned over the stroller.
“I think it would be easier to get the carriage in the car without Georgia in it,” Pete laughed.
“We’re going to walk back,” I explained.
“Not tonight,” Pete said. “It’s dark and it’s raining out there. You can’t be walking in this. You ladies stay in here, and Ray and I will get the carriage in the car.”
“We don’t have a car seat with us,” I explained.
“The carriage doubles as a car seat, but there’s no need to bother with that,” Lily interrupted, placing her hand on the carriage.
I was about to speak my piece, when Lily added, “We have a car seat in our car. We can take them home.”
Without another word, John folded the carriage, thanked Pete, and went to put the carriage in the trunk. There was a wild exchange of hugs between us all before John returned. I noticed no one gave Lily their usual bear hug. Instead, they treated her like an expensive and fragile china doll.
Once we got to the car, Lily took command. She settled Rosie into one side of the back seat while I buckled Baby Girl into her seat. Then Lily motioned to me to get into the front seat, while she took the position next to Baby Girl. When Baby Girl started fussing, I wished I had spoken up and taken the back seat. Lily asked John to turn on the sound system. At first I thought, she was using a too fancy name for a radio, but when John pushed the button the car filled with a symphony. “That should soothe her,” Lily said.
I wanted to correct her, but within two minutes Baby Girl let out a contented sigh.
When we arrived home, Rosie kept thanking Lily for coming and John for making sure she came. I used the wet weather as an excuse to cut the love fest short and to get Baby Girl inside.
Georgia had a hard time falling asleep that night. The truth be told, as great a job as Pete did that day, Baby Girl was the real center of attention. She had been passed from one set of arms to the next all day. She had been bounced, tickled, sung to, and sniffed a hundred times. She wasn’t ready to give up the spotlight for bed.
I went to my room and picked up a picture book that I brought home from the library. Rosie almost laughed her teeth out when she saw me bringing books home for Baby Girl. She may be right about Georgia being too young to understand a story, but my reading them soothed and calmed her as well as any music could. I settled us into the rocker and began reading. By the time I turned the last page, Baby Girl was in a place where I could put her down for the night, and Rosie was fast asleep.
After I settled Baby Girl into her crib, I decided to stop by Rosie’s room. In all the months we’ve lived here, I’d never stepped to the other side of her door. But the night before Rosie had gone to bed with the parlor afghan still wrapped around her, and I was afraid she might catch a chill dozing out in her chair without it.
Even my good intentions couldn’t keep a bad feeling from creeping over me as I passed through the doorway. It felt like the time when I was in second grade on our field trip to the museum. Mary Louise Horton was scared to death of the mummy they had laying out there. I wanted to show her there was nothing to be afraid of, so I slipped under that big red velvet rope and touched that mummy with both of my hands. It gave me chills, but I didn’t want M
ary Louise to know that. Before I could even finish saying, “See, Mary Louise. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I felt my teacher, Mrs. Lincoln, gripping my right shoulder and the museum guide in the navy blue suit grabbing my left. I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the museum office while Mary Louise and the rest of the class finished the tour. To top it off, Mrs. Lincoln wrote my parents a letter telling them how disappointed she was in my behavior. Daddy said I had shamed the whole family.
I only tell you that so you will understand why, even though I had a perfectly good reason for entering Rosie’s room, I failed to cross the room and answer the phone ringing on Rosie’s bedside table. Instead, I ran out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen phone.
The voice on the other end belonged to Rosie’s granddaughter. I woke Rosie and while she chatted on the phone, I sat there thinking. This was the first time I had ever spoken to Rosie’s granddaughter, but she didn’t even ask who I was or what I was doing answering the phone. I wondered how often they had spoken about me. I wondered if Rosie didn’t want me to know what she had to say. I closed my eyes and pictured the black phone sitting on Rosie’s bedside table and realized that she probably talked to lots of folks on the phone without me knowing. She wasn’t keeping secrets; it was just a convenience.
And then, as it so often happens in my brain, one worrying thought brought me to another. When I closed my eyes and pictured that phone ringing, I saw something else. On the bedside table, right next to the phone, were about a dozen caramel-colored tubes with white labels stuck on them. I closed my eyes and tried to see them again. I guess I was really hoping to not see them again. But there they were, medicine bottles lined up like soldiers guarding Rosie’s bed.
Rosie came down the hall. “I’m going to pop in your room to say good night to Georgia Rose,” she said. When Rosie came out again, she said, “Our little angel is already asleep and I think it’s time for me to join her.”
I wanted to ask Rosie about the amber tubes on her nightstand. I wanted her to tell me everything was all right. But the words didn’t come out of me. Instead, I got up and hugged her tight.
“Now what did I do to deserve that?” Rosie asked, smiling.
“I love you, Rosie,” I said. “I couldn’t love you more if you were my blood relation. I don’t know what would have become of Georgia Rose and me if it hadn’t been for you.”
Rosie looked up at me and placed her hand on my cheek. Then, without a word, she turned and walked off to her room. I went to the kitchen and put the kettle on for a cup of tea. I thought about the hodgepodge of feelings I’d had in the past weeks. I thought about how I felt holding Baby Girl at her christening. I thought about how I felt when I read Daddy’s letter. I thought about how I felt hugging Rosie and realizing that she needed me to take care of her now. I had stopped looking for my name in the paper months ago. I had stopped looking for news about Baby Girl and her real mama. I would never understand how someone could leave her baby the way Baby Girl was left, but it didn’t matter to me anymore. Instead, I worried that someone, having recognized Baby Girl’s picture in the paper, would spot us on the street and tell the whole world about us. Baby Girl and I were two castaways when we met on that train, but that was behind us. I was Baby Girl’s mama now. This was our home. This was our family. It was time to stop looking back, and start looking forward.
CHAPTER 23
I tiptoed through the house the next morning. There was a tree waiting to be trimmed and a window waiting to be changed at the Second Hand Rose. If I wanted to get both of those jobs done before opening time, I needed to get moving extra early. If things worked out the way folks downtown were hoping, the stores would be packed with shoppers getting ready for Christmas. I thought Rosie should sleep in since today was an extra-long workday. I hoped that she might even decide to take the day off rather than walk into town by herself. So I tried to slip out unnoticed—not an easy task when you’re in the company of a little girl who has come to love the sound of her own voice.
It had taken me longer to remove the last traces of Thanksgiving from the front of the store than I had anticipated. Folks were walking Main Street with their tree ballots before I finished dressing the window for Christmas. I don’t mean to brag, but I do believe I outdid myself with that window. I had found a battery-operated truck in the store and rigged it so it would travel through the little village I was building. I put a little Santa doll and a decorated tree in the back of the truck. I had done my best to copy Main Street. The village had a used bike shop, a miniature Needles and Notions shop, and a tiny little diner. Of course, in the middle of it all was a miniature Second Hand Rose. Someone tapped on the glass, and I turned to see a small crowd standing on the walk watching me at work. I smiled and waved, and the people waved back. Nobody moved on. I felt like a fish in a bowl—a fish on all fours with her behind facing the glass. I repositioned myself so as not to spoil anyone’s holiday spirit with the sight of my backside.
Working at that angle went a little slower and I was starting to resent my audience. It gave me a great view of the curb, though, so when I heard John’s truck I was able to watch him without being too obvious. Back and forth he went, trying to squeeze his big truck into the little space left in front of the store. He must be part magician, because he got it in there with only inches between his bumpers and the cars that bookended his truck. I heard his door bang shut through my glass wall and watched as he inched, tightrope-style, across his back bumper to get to the sidewalk.
My insides started to race like the time in the sixth grade when I was waiting for Mrs. Purdy to announce the winner of the Harvest Composition Contest. When John hopped down from the bumper and turned to walk up the block, my heart sank into my stomach as fast as when Mrs. Purdy had called Billy Wagner’s name. But John didn’t go far. He stopped, opened the passenger door of his truck, and reached up to help someone out. Rosie was his passenger, and she waved him away once her feet were on solid ground. He ignored her signal and followed her up the steps.
My heart started thumping against my chest. I scolded myself for having such a reaction. “Don’t be silly,” I whispered under my breath. “He isn’t here for you. He’s helping Rosie out.” I stood up and waved goodbye to the window watchers. They applauded, so I smiled and took a bow. I thought about how Daddy would have reacted to my boastful behavior. It made me grateful he wasn’t there.
Rosie passed through the door that John had reached ahead to open for her. “Now, I told you once already,” she said, “just because I asked you for a ride doesn’t mean I need you following me around like a guard dog all day.”
John laughed. “I’m not following you around, Rosie,” he said. “Your store has become famous in this town for its fancy window displays. It’s a little slippery out there, and I didn’t want your window dresser getting hurt climbing a ladder by herself.” He looked at me and said, “You are planning to put lights up outside, aren’t you?”
I smiled and nodded.
John turned back to Rosie. “There you go,” he said. “You wouldn’t want your best employee getting hurt on the job, would you?”
“Just don’t you forget that there is nothing wrong with my eyes,” Rosie answered. “I’ll be sitting right here, keeping an eye on you.”
Rosie’s words were harsh, but I saw the corners of her lips and eyes curl upward. John carried the ladder, and I carried the lights out. I struggled with the choice of letting him climb the ladder and hang the lights his way, or me climbing the ladder and hanging them my way. I decided I would rather live with his work than with him having the same view of my behind I had treated all of Main Street to earlier.
John suggested we put the lights on a timer to save on the electric bill. I knew Rosie would favor that plan, but I had no idea what a timer was or if we had one. John grinned and said, “I’ve got one in my truck you can borrow.”
I wondered what kind of person drove around with one of those contraptions in his tru
ck, but I held my tongue. When he finished setting up the timer and showing us how to use it, he suggested I walk him to his truck. Baby Girl was fussing a bit, so I hesitated.
“You go ahead,” Rosie said. “You’ll only be a minute, and I’ll keep Georgia Rose happy until you get back.” She looked at John. “And remember, I still have two good eyes, so don’t you get fresh out there.”
I turned redder than a Santa suit. “Now, don’t you mind my teasing, Becky. John knows I’m only kidding,” Rosie said.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I was disappointed when we got to the curb. John turned and said, “I can come back to pick Rosie up so she doesn’t have to walk home. What time should I come by?”
“Why didn’t you ask Rosie that?” I asked.
Now it was John’s turn to feel uncomfortable. He dug his hands into his jean pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “If I ask her, she will tell me not to come,” he said. “I figured you can talk her into it. I can’t take all three of you at once in my truck, but, if you want, I could bring Rosie home and come back for you and Georgia.”
I was feeling lower than a snake’s belly. I don’t know why I was so sharp with him when he was being so kind to Rosie. “Thanks,” I said. “Georgia and I will be fine on our own. I’d like to get some dinner in Rosie before she goes home, since I’ll be here late. Do you think you could come back early in the evening?”
John opened the truck door and dug through the glove compartment. He pulled out a road map and a pen. He wrote his phone number on the corner of the map, then tore it off and handed it to me. “Give me a call when you are ready for dinner, and I’ll come back for Rosie.”
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