by JoAnn Durgin
“I didn’t know that, but hopefully Thornton understands she’s not disappointed in him.”
“That is true,” Rosalinda said with a small smile. “An important distinction.”
Vara followed the older woman into the spare bedroom. This had been one of her favorite rooms during her mini-tour. Tastefully decorated in colors of blush, pale yellow, and gold, it was elegant without being overdone. The furniture was constructed of fine quality wood, but it weren’t overbearing or opulent. Overall, the bedroom was welcoming and warm, and she’d secretly nicknamed it The Normal Room. She’d let the name slip when talking with Thornton, but he’d laughed and wholeheartedly agreed.
“Has Thornton told you about Charlotte’s time spent working as a model in New York?”
“He did,” Vara said. “There were some old fashion magazines in the box Charlotte sent to the library, but I have them now. If you’d like them back, I can bring them next time I come.”
“No, no. I’m glad you have them, child. You should keep them. The big fashion design houses of the day used to gift their favorite models with dresses, and Charlotte kept most of them. The designers encouraged the girls to wear their creations when they were out and about in the city because it was good advertising. It created more business for them and helped to build their clientele.”
“That must have been such an exciting time for Charlotte.”
“It was indeed. Many dubbed Charlotte the Grace Kelly of the runway because of her elegance. I’ve heard she practically glided down the runway, her steps never faltered. Although it might be difficult to believe, she was once a rather shy girl. Although she grew up in New York, Charlotte still found it quite intimidating.”
“I love hearing these stories.” When Rosalinda motioned for her to have a seat, Vara sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed. The floral comforter was elegant and luxurious, and she ran light fingers over it, admiring the design.
Rosalinda opened the doors of a large, walk-in closet, affording Vara a view of row upon row of garment bags and shelves lined with shoes, hats, and purses. Everything was meticulously organized and neatly stored. What she wouldn’t give to investigate that closet! Brie adored vintage clothing and, combined with modern pieces, called it boho chic. Joanna would love to see the vintage jewelry. Sofia was more practical, but she’d adore a glimpse of the gowns.
“Is New York where you met Charlotte?”
“I am originally from the island of Bonaire. Charlotte traveled there on vacation with her parents. She was 18, and it was the summer before she began college.”
“May I ask where she attended college?”
“Charlotte went to Sarah Lawrence College, the same as her mother. Because of the school’s close proximity to Manhattan, she was able to model part-time while still attending classes.”
“If you’ll forgive me for saying this, Charlotte doesn’t exactly seem like the model…type.”
“It was a different day and age in many respects,” Rosalinda said. “She was truly a beautiful girl, although a bit too short to be considered a high fashion model. Her parents encouraged her to go for modeling jobs in order to meet people and make friends from all over the world.”
“So, how did you end up coming to the States?” Vara asked.
“Charlotte and I met in a street market when we both reached for the same mango, something we remember fondly to this day.” Rosalinda’s brown face creased with her wide, lovely smile, and she brushed a stray silver strand of hair away from her cheek.
“We began to talk, and I told her how my dream was to move to the United States. I had big stars in my eyes, you see. Her life in New York sounded so exciting. I dearly loved my sweet little island home and my family, but like so many young people, I longed to see more of the world and what was beyond the borders of my own country.”
“What a great story! Bonaire’s one of the ABC islands, correct?”
“That is correct, and it is a municipality of the Netherlands. Have you been, child?”
Vara shook her head. “I haven’t had the pleasure, but my grandparents on my mom’s side took a southern Caribbean cruise a few years ago that stopped in Aruba, Bonaire, and Curaçao. I remember they talked about how—on a clear day—they could see the coast of Venezuela.”
Rosalinda nodded, clearly pleased. “Bonaire is the smallest of the three islands and not nearly as commercial. Charlotte and I struck up a perhaps unusual but instant kinship. The type of friendship one rarely finds, Miss Vara. We walked together and discussed becoming pen pals. Although we exchanged addresses, I felt sure I’d never hear from the American girl again.”
Vara shared a smile with Rosalinda.
“Charlotte surprised me by writing first, and we began a correspondence. That was before the days of email and all the conveniences of modern technology. I remember going to the mailbox in anticipation of receiving her letters. They were well-written and told of the kind of life of which I could only dream. She told of her schoolwork, her friends, and also of fabulous parties. She knew of my interest in food, so she’d share recipes and ideas for setting a fine table.
“She’d also send photographs of her gowns and share amusing anecdotes of her modeling assignments. Her letters were quite amusing, and she often had me in stitches. You may not have glimpsed it, but Charlotte has a keen wit and a sharp sense of humor.”
“Sounds like someone else I know in the family.”
Rosalinda nodded. “Indeed. In any case, my family knew I’d heard from my American friend when they heard me laughing in my bedroom. She dated a good number of New York’s most eligible young men of the time. Why, Charlotte even dated a relation of the Rockefeller family, don’tcha know.”
Vara smiled as much at the Rockefeller connection as hearing Rosalinda say don’tcha know like a native Minnesotan. “Isn’t that something?”
“We wrote to one another several times each year. When Charlotte was 22, she met a young man named Thomas Fielding who was in New York on business. She fell madly in love with the tall, dark-haired, handsome man from Minnesota. He had attended an Ivy League institution on the East Coast and was making a name for himself as a prominent young attorney. Even so, Charlotte was afraid her father would not approve.”
“Why not?”
“Probably because he expected her to marry a Rockefeller. Thomas courted Charlotte properly, and in time, he won over her parents. After their marriage, she moved here to Cherish. I remember how she wrote that she hated the cold weather, but her love for her husband kept the warmth in her heart.”
“What a beautiful sentiment,” Vara said.
“At that time, this home was in a sadly rundown and neglected state. They purchased the property at a steal of a price, as she told me. As a young bride, Charlotte poured herself into restoring the home. It occupied her time when Thomas was busy with work or away on a business trip. They traveled together some, and they also hosted lavish parties here in Cherish once the home was refurbished to its former glory.”
A cloud passed over Rosalinda’s face. “After Charlotte gave birth to Thomas, Jr., the letters slowed. For a time—a few years, really—I heard nothing. I suppose these things happen, but to be honest, I feared for my friend. I made a phone call to check on her, and discovered that all was well, but she was simply very busy.
“Mr. Fielding died prematurely, unfortunately leaving Charlotte a young widow, only barely past 40. Their son, Tom Jr., married quite young, and I know it brought great joy to her heart when Thornton was born. It was not long after his birth that Charlotte wrote another long letter to me. I was so happy to hear from her again, and I soaked up her words. And when I neared the end of the letter, I remember gasping out loud. She told me that if I was still interested in coming to the United States, I would always have a place in her employ.
“We had never discussed such a thing although she had invited me to come and visit her. I knew Charlotte meant it, and it was sincere and not simply what is called lip s
ervice. I didn’t think twice about her generous offer. I told my family that I was headed to America, to a frozen but beautiful state called Minnesota, and I have worked for Charlotte ever since.”
“You’re not really an employee,” Vara said. “You must know that.”
Rosalinda momentarily stopped her perusal of the gowns in the large closet. “And she is not simply my employer. Charlotte remembered our first conversation from all those years ago, and she’d kept in contact with me. Then, when the circumstances allowed, she gave me the opportunity to find my dream. That is a kindness you do not forget.”
Vara smiled. “I understand. It was also the basis for a beautiful, lasting friendship.”
“Charlotte went through a very difficult time when she lost her husband. I’m thankful I could be here to help her through the losses she’s suffered through the years.”
“I’m thankful, too,” Vara murmured. She couldn’t help but wonder why Rosalinda had never married. “You’ve been a dedicated friend to Charlotte. We should all be so blessed.”
“Ah, here it is! This is the gown I was thinking of. I was beginning to believe I had imagined it.” Rosalinda unzipped a garment bag and then whisked a confection of burgundy satin and chiffon from the closet.
“Oh, it’s absolutely beautiful!” Vara gazed upon the dress and marveled at the sparkles winking at her from the delicate beading on the bodice. “I’d feel like royalty in this dress.”
Rosalinda held it up so she could see the entire length of the dress. “As you’ll see, it’s A-line with a Princess scoop neckline, pleated band to accentuate the slim waist, and the sheer overlay on the bodice with burgundy beading extends slightly over the shoulders. Then here’s the back.” She turned the dress around for her to see.
Vara laughed. “Rosalinda, you sound like a fashion expert.”
The other woman laughed with her. “I suppose I do, child. Charlotte sent me pictures from the magazines, and I devoured them, studying the dresses and their descriptions. I have always held a keen interest in fashion, as well. I think this dress will accentuate your lovely figure without being immodest. It’s meant to flow and flatter, and the color will complement your skin tone well.”
“I’d envisioned the Valentine Dance as being less formal, but after talking with Ron and Laura at Andrea’s, they set me straight.”
Rosalinda brightened. “You’ve met Laura? Such a sweet girl. I know her father is thrilled to have her home again. The Valentine Dance is the highlight of the Cherish social season, such as it is. Everyone dresses in their formal wear, and the library looks very elegant. It is quite a romantic setting.”
“I’m beginning to see that the townspeople of Cherish embrace celebrating the day of love.”
“That we do, but you must agree it’s appropriate. We are the town that loves love.” She studied Vara. “Mark my words, Thornton will fall even more in love when he sees you in this dress.”
“In love? Rosalinda, no one’s said anything about love.” In spite of her words, Vara’s pulse took flight. “How can I be interested in a relationship with a man who—”
“A man who is falling in love with the beautiful woman God has brought into his life?”
“Don’t misunderstand. I think Thornton is a wonderful man. One of the best men I’ve met in my life. He’s smart, funny, handsome…considerate…handy in the kitchen when he sets his mind to it, and he’s so good with Charlotte. But it’s only a matter of time before he’s gallivanting across the world again.”
No matter what promises Thornton made to her, those were the facts. Perhaps she shouldn’t be speaking of such things with Rosalinda, but only one other person in the entire world knew him better, and that person had considerable difficulty speaking at the current time.
After hanging the dress over the top edge of the wardrobe door, Rosalinda sat on the bed beside her. Again, Vara was reminded of the times her yayá summoned her in much the same manner, usually when she had words of wisdom to impart. She suspected Rosalinda had similar words of wisdom to impart, and it would be well worth her time to listen.
“I might be getting older, child, but I am certainly not blind. These eyes are still sharp, and it’s clear that you’re as taken with Thornton as he is with you. He told me you’d been hurt by a man in the past. I’m indeed sorry, but that man wasn’t God’s chosen partner for you, lieveke. That means sweet one in Dutch,” she added after Vara gave her a quizzical look.
“I realize most people are hurt by love at some point once they reach my age,” Vara said. “It’s fair to say the experience soured me on the idea of finding a loyal man to share the kind of forever love that fills a young girl’s dreams.” Sniffling, Vara glanced over at Rosalinda. “Everyone knows fairy tales are just unrealistic fantasies and nothing at all like real life.”
“Reality can indeed be difficult, child. But it’s much more satisfying than a fairy tale because you have to work that much harder for your happily ever after. Tell me, child. If it’s not too painful for you to recount, when did this happen?”
“Two years ago on Valentine’s Day.” Vara twisted her hands on her lap. “Ever since, I’ve wanted to hide on Valentine’s Day and not emerge until the day is over. Like Punksutawney Phil seeing his shadow and returning to his hole for six more long weeks of winter. I want to burrow into my hole so I can’t see all the store displays with cards, flowers, and candy—not to mention all the happy couples. Not that I begrudge anyone happiness. Please don’t think that, Rosalinda. But seeing such things only reinforced what I had lost.”
“Ah, I see.” The kindly woman rested her hand on top of Vara’s. “When it comes to such matters, the Lord has His own timing for your heart, and it is perfect. Two years is more than long enough to grieve the loss of a relationship, child. If it was truly meant to be, then it would have worked. Take what you can from the experience and continue on with your life. I’ve always loved the Scripture that tells us, ‘He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.’ Jesus can tend to your broken heart like no one or nothing else, lieveke. Have you surrendered your burden to Him?”
Vara nodded. “I have, and I’ve forgiven Daniel although there are times when I still feel that he doesn’t deserve it. But I knew it was the right thing to do in order to move forward with my life. More importantly, I knew forgiving him was what God wanted me to do.”
“And now, after forgiving Daniel, do you feel better?” Rosalinda’s tone was filled with caring and love.
“You know something? I do.”
Rosalinda nodded in satisfaction. She patted Vara’s knee. “That is all good and well. When we forgive someone who has wronged us, God is pleased, and peace fills our soul. ‘Be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving each other, just as God in Christ also has forgiven you.’ He knows how difficult it can be to forgive, but those who can’t forgive have blackened souls. That’s only existing in this world. It’s not living the life He wants for us that’s pleasing to Him and full of hope for an eternity spent in heaven with Him.”
Vara sat for a long moment, absorbing the older woman’s words. “You are very wise. Thank you for sharing Scripture in such a meaningful way with me.”
The older woman’s eyes misted. “Wisdom gained the difficult way, perhaps. Don’t push love away, Miss Vara. Embrace it when it presents itself. If you don’t, you’ll wake up one morning in the years to come and wonder what could have been. Seize the opportunities God is offering. You will be richly rewarded with love. And for however long it lasts, it is…simply glorious.”
When a tear slipped down Rosalinda’s cheek, Vara wiped it away with one finger and then wrapped her arms around her. “I will always remember.”
“Child, I’d like to tell you something about myself that until now I have only shared with Charlotte and Thornton.”
“You don’t need to tell me anything if—”
“I wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t want to, lieveke. There was a young man in Bonaire. I m
et him when I was 18, and he was 20. His name was Bastiaan, and he worked for my father. He stood taller than most men. He had long, flowing dark hair and was very strong. He was handsome, kind, and considerate of others, and I fell madly in love with him.
“You must understand that my father was one of the wealthiest men in Kralendijk, the capital city of Bonaire. Pride and social status have always been important to my father, and as such, Bastiaan would never have been eligible to marry me. As young people will do, we arranged through mutual friends to meet with one another secretly. The relationship remained pure, and our meetings continued for more than a year.”
Rosalinda’s shoulders lifted with her heartfelt sigh. “One evening, my father discovered us having dinner together in the home of Bastiaan’s parents. He had followed us, and the confrontation quickly grew very ugly. Then he fired Bastiaan and forbade me to ever see him again. I was heartbroken. Bastiaan left the island, and I’ve never heard anything more about what happened to him.”
“I’m sorry, Rosalinda. You never married?”
“I married when I was 21, but then my husband, Roald, was killed in a boating accident two years later. I’d prayed that perhaps I carried his child, but it wasn’t meant to be. I discovered after his death that I most likely could never conceive a child. In a way, that was a burden I’m thankful Roald did not live to bear. That knowledge would have crushed his heart. He so loved little ones, and we’d hoped to have many.”
Vara’s heart ached for this dear woman who’d endured such tragedy and loss at a young age. “Words fail me except to tell you, again, how truly sorry I am.” She squeezed Rosalinda’s hand.
“God’s word gives me great comfort, child. It did then, just as it does now. He knows our heart and gives us exactly what we need—no more, no less. Charlotte’s offer to come and work for her was also an answer to prayer. I’d not have left Bonaire if not for her sweet generosity. The Lord’s plans for us are always best. I was blessed to have experienced love twice in my life, and I was content.