Accidental Love

by BL Miller

  "What is your point?"

  "My point is why are you doing this? Why are you letting some poor white trash live off of you?"

  "Don't…you…EVER call her that again!" Ronnie roared. "You have no idea what you're talking about, and as far as 'white trash' goes, have you taken a good look at Tommy lately?"

  "You're trying to change the subject."

  "Am I? You're judging her because she doesn't have the money you and I do. How fair is that?" She walked over to the window and looked out at the dreary gray sky. "Did you take the time to talk to her? To find out what kind of a person she is? No. Not everyone who doesn't have money is scum and not everyone who is rich is a good person."

  "I'm not saying that."

  "You're not? You find out she wasn't born to privilege and right away you assume she's a gold digger."

  "Then what is she, Ronnie? Help me understand because right now I don't," Susan challenged.

  "Try looking at it from the family's point of view. A woman we've never heard of suddenly moves into your home, complete with a cat and obvious medical problems and you expect us to just sit back and not be concerned?"

  "Yes, I do. It's my life, Susan. Who stays in my home is my concern, not yours. I didn't run an investigation on Jack when you announced you were going to marry him."

  "Are you planning on marrying her?"

  "You still won't accept that she is just a friend, will you?" She crossed the room and flopped down on the black leather couch. "Why does it bother you so much?"

  "I just don't want to see you hurt…again."

  "This is not like Christine, I told you that before."

  "You may not think so, but from what I see…"

  "Then you had better look again. Rose doesn't want anything from me. She's just a friend. Stop trying to make this into something more than it is." She kicked her shoes off and tucked her feet up under her legs. "You don't know her, Susan. You don't know what she's like. Last night her bottle of Percocet was stolen. I offered to go get more but she didn't want me to. Does that sound like someone who is only interested in my money? She hasn't once asked me to buy her a damn thing. Everything I do, I do because I want to, not because she asks me to." She waved her hand dismissively. "You don't understand, forget it."

  "Look. You're an adult. You have to make your own decisions. I ran every check I could on her today. All the info is in that file. Do with it what you want." Susan headed for the door. "Ronnie, don't forget dinner tomorrow at Mother's."

  "Oh, I'm looking forward to it," she said sarcastically. "Did you fax her a copy of your precious report? Or did you just take an ad out in the Times Useless?"

  "That wasn't necessary, Ronnie. I'm just looking out for you."

  "Last time I looked, I was taking care of myself just fine. I don't recall asking you to baby-sit me."

  "Fine. Do what you want, you will anyway." Susan left, not bothering to close the door. Laura, who had been listening to the raised voices, discreetly closed it and returned to her desk, knowing the intercom would buzz in a few seconds.

  "Laura, hold my calls." A second later, line two lit up and the young administrative assistant would have bet her entire paycheck that she knew who her boss was calling.

  "Cartwright Residence," Maria answered.

  "Hi Maria, may I speak with Rose please?" Ronnie was still sitting on her couch in the office, the block multi-line phone sitting on the floor next to her. It was at times like this she appreciated the extra length in the gray phone cord, even if it did get tangled up in her feet under the desk from time to time.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi there." At the sound of Rose's voice, Ronnie smiled, the stress of her conversation with Susan melting away. "How was Judge Judy today?"

  "Oh, you wouldn't believe the cases she had."

  "Tell me about them," she urged, settling back into a comfortable position. Ronnie could not explain it but the sound of Rose's voice had a soothing effect on her and, at the moment, she needed that comfort.

  *******************

  A few days later, Rose was at the hospital to get her stitches removed and to have new X-rays taken of her legs. Ronnie sat in the waiting area, reading six-month old magazines to pass the time.

  "Almost finished," Doctor Barnes said, removing the last of the stitches on Rose's cheek. She stepped back and threw her latex gloves in the red waste receptacle. "Looks good. I don't think you'll have a scar. Remember to keep it out of the sun until it's fully healed. Not that that is a problem this time of year." She made a notation on Rose's chart. "You're recovering splendidly. At the rate you're going, I see no reason why you won't be on crutches by late Spring."

  "Late Spring?"

  "Late Spring," the doctor repeated. "Your body suffered a severe trauma. Your ankle alone was broken in seven places. It's going to take time to heal. Understand this, Miss Grayson, we're talking months of therapy, not weeks." The young woman's heart sank at the words. She knew it would take time, just not that long. How would Ronnie react? Surely that would be too long to stay at the place she was quickly thinking of as home.

  Despite Rose's fears, Ronnie took the news well, more concerned about the progress of the recovery than the time frame. Although it caused some discomfort, the young woman insisted she could ride in the back seat of the Cherokee by sitting sideways, allowing her legs to rest on the deep gray velour. Ronnie did her best to avoid potholes, but there were still a few times when she looked into the rear view mirror and saw Rose wince as they passed over a particularly rough spot of road. "You know I could stay home tonight," she said as they turned onto Cartwright Drive.

  "No, your mother and sister are expecting you. I'll be fine."

  "But what if you need to use the bedpan or something? What if you need a drink?" She pulled the Jeep into the driveway and turned off the ignition.

  "I'll go before you leave. If you fill that pitcher on the stand, I'm sure I'll be fine."

  ******************

  Ronnie was late arriving at her mother's condo. She blamed it on the Friday rush hour traffic but the truth was she found it difficult to leave Rose alone. A full pitcher of water, cans of soda cooling in the ice bucket, various snacks all within easy reach of the injured woman…she left nothing to chance, even going so far as to write down her mother's phone number just in case Rose needed anything.

  The small round dining table had just enough room for everyone. Ronnie found herself seated between Elaine and Susan. It was bad enough to be a lefty stuck next to a right-handed person but the pungent smell of her aunt's perfume threatened to take away Ronnie's appetite. "Smell's wonderful," Susan said as the platter of meat was placed on the table.

  "Thank you, dear," Beatrice replied as if she were the one who had spent hours preparing the food instead of her part-time helper. "You know your sister always enjoys a good pork roast."

  "Yes I do," Ronnie readily agreed, reaching for the platter.

  "Hey, leave some for the rest of us."

  "Now Susan, don't you worry about it," her mother chastised. "There's plenty for everyone." She turned to her eldest daughter. "You just take as much as you want, dear. I'm sure you must be tired of those reheated dinners that Maria makes for you."

  Ronnie poured the steaming gravy over her pork. "Maria's a great cook, Mother, you know that."

  "I know that when I ran the house she worked until eight o'clock each night. I never had to worry about dirty dishes piling up until morning."

  "I have a dishwasher."

  "Humph, another appliance purchased so she could work less, no doubt." Beatrice ladled some gravy onto her plate. "You know you spoil her."

  "I know," Ronnie grinned, drawing a smirk from her sister and an annoyed frown from her mother.

  "First it was every weekend off, then it was shorter hours. At the rate she's going, you're going to pay her to stay home just like those welfare people."

  "Mother, she puts in a full work week just like anyone else."

 
; "I'm sure she's busier than ever with your friend there," Susan chimed in.

  "Yes, how is that poor dear?" Elaine asked. "She seemed like such a nice girl. What was her name? Rachel, Ruth…"

  "Rose," Ronnie corrected.

  "Ah yes," the visiting relative replied, not at all interested in the correct name. "Well anyway, she seemed like a nice girl. Pass the corn, please. Bea, did you see in the paper where they are rabble rousing about health care again?"

  "You'd think the president would have better things to worry about," the matriarch replied. "Jack, do you know anyone without insurance?"

  "Of course not, Mother," he replied, learning long ago exactly what answers his mother-in-law wanted to hear.

  "See, that's my point exactly. They need to worry about more important things like reforming the tax code or bringing prayer back to school." Beatrice took a sip of wine. "I'm telling you, that's where the country went wrong. There was a time when children respected their elders. Now I can't get the paperboy to leave the paper between the doors when it's raining. And he wonders why I don't tip him. Tips should be earned, but nowadays they seem to think they deserve it just for doing their jobs."

  Throughout the rest of dinner and into the after dinner drinks, Ronnie tried to pay attention to the conversation but found her mind slipping back to thoughts of the blonde woman waiting for her at home. She wondered if she would sleep on the couch or if Rose would let her share the bed again. She hoped the latter. Ronnie's mind was so far away she did not hear her mother address her and it was only Susan kicking her under the table that brought her back to the present. "I'm sorry, what?"

  Beatrice gave an annoyed huff. "I asked you if you planned on coming here for Christmas. Honestly, Ronnie."

  "Sorry, I was just thinking about something."

  "Or someone," Susan said so quietly only her sister could hear it.

  "Actually I thought I'd spend Christmas at home this year," she replied, shooting a glare at her younger sister.

  "Oh good. Elaine asked me to join her on a cruise but I didn't want you to have nowhere to go."

  "What about Tommy?" Susan asked.

  "He said he had other plans this year, something about going up to the mountains with some friends of his. You and Jack have the boys, so the only one I was worried about was your sister."

  "I'll be fine, Mother." Ronnie looked at her watch. "I didn't realize the time. I need to swing by the office and pick up some files before it gets too late." She stood up and tossed her napkin on the now empty plate. "Dinner was wonderful, as always."

  "That's my daughter, always working," Beatrice said. "Perhaps someday you'll find the time to settle down and make me some grandchildren."

  Ronnie ignored the jibe and donned her jacket. "I really need to get going." She glanced out the window. "It's beginning to come down really hard out there."

  "Of course, of course. You go work on making money. I guess I'll have to depend on Jack and Susan to give me a granddaughter."

  "I guess so," the black-haired woman said as she reached for the door handle. "Jack, you'd better be careful on the way home, looks like sleet. Goodnight everyone."

  *********************

  "Hey, you're still up," Ronnie said when she walked into what used to be considered the office and now was Rose's room.

  "Yeah, it's only ten."

  "Anything good on?"

  "Not really." Rose used the remote to mute the television before patting the space on the bed next to her. "So how did your dinner go?"

  "Draining," the older woman sighed, taking the offered seat on the adjustable bed and leaning back into a comfortable position. "Now I remember why I hate family dinners so much."

  "Why is that?"

  "Everyone talks about nothing. They went on and on about things they have no control over like taxes and tipping. Not to mention Mother started in again about my not giving her grandchildren."

  "Oh, that's too bad. Does she do that a lot?"

  "Every opportunity she can," Ronnie shrugged. "Come on, let's see what's on TV."

  They settled back and watched a crime drama. Both of them guessing who the murderer was long before the cops figured it out. When it was over Rose found she was unable to stifle a yawn.

  "Sorry, must be more tired than I thought," she apologized when Ronnie pressed the button on the remote to shut the television off.

  "That's okay. It is getting late. I guess I'd better get going and let you get some sleep." She made a move to get off the bed only to be stopped by Rose's hand on her arm.

  "Are you going upstairs?"

  "No, I'll probably crash on the couch, why?"

  "You know, it's a big bed and I am sure it's more comfortable than the couch is. You could stay here." Rose bit her lower lip. "I mean, if you want to, I don't mind."

  Ronnie hesitated for only a second. "Well, I wouldn't want to crowd you or anything."

  "You haven't yet."

  "It is more comfortable than the couch…but only if you're sure." If the truth were told, she could fall asleep in either place, but one definitely was preferred over the other.

  "I'm sure." Rose pulled one of the two pillows out from behind her head. "Here, I'll even share."

  Ronnie smiled at the gesture. "Let me change and get the light."

  A few minutes later Ronnie was changed into her sweats and a cotton T-shirt. She shut the light off and scooted under the blanket, consciously keeping her body from moving over and pressing against Rose no matter how much it wanted to. Her resolve lasted only until the moment sleep overtook her, when her body took over and did what it wanted so desperately to do when she was awake.

  Half-asleep, Rose woke up completely when she felt the strong arm rest across her stomach. Ronnie gave a soft sigh of contentment in her sleep and snuggled closer, her warm breath caressing the smaller woman's shoulder. Rose smiled in the dark and brought her left hand down to rest atop the larger one. It should have seemed strange to sleep next to someone after spending the first twenty-six years of her life sleeping alone but it didn't. Lying next to Ronnie felt natural, comfortable, right. She believed the older woman truly cared for her, something Rose had never really felt before. It filled her with a sense of…well, whatever it was she could not quite name but it was a wonderful feeling just the same. Another sigh and the older woman moved even closer, her chin resting just above Rose's shoulder and her face buried in the blonde hair.

  Time ticked by while the young woman enjoyed the sensations, the warmth of Ronnie's hand through the cotton nightshirt, the gentle breaths tickling her ear. The feeling of safety and security covered her like no blanket ever could. Rose had friends growing up, playmates, girls to share secrets with, but she never felt toward them what she felt toward Ronnie. Her feelings ran deeper than anything she had ever known and although it should have scared her, it didn't. She turned her head to the side and placed a gentle kiss on Ronnie's forehead. "Sweet dreams," she whispered before closing her eyes and letting sleep overtake her.

  *******************

  The rusted out station wagon chugged its way up Morris Street. Delores Bickering spotted the address she was looking for and double-parked in front of it. She had planned on visiting her sister but decided since she was in the area anyway it would not hurt to stop in and see Rose, especially since she had not received a reply, or a check, from the young woman yet. She rolled down the window and reached for the outside handle, the only way to open the car door, and stepped out. She walked down the steps leading to the basement apartment, frowning when she saw a Hispanic couple moving about inside. She knocked on the door. "Does Rose Grayson live here?"

  "No, we just moved in. You might want to check with Cecil. He lives upstairs."

  "What the fuck you want?" Cecil asked when he opened the door.

  "I'm looking for Rose Grayson. I thought she lived here."

  "Moved out," he grunted. "Damn bitch didn't give me no notice either."

  "Do you know where she
moved to?"

  "Who the fuck are you?" He looked at Delores suspiciously.

  "I'm her mother," she lied.

  "I don't know and I don't give a shit. If you want to know, you should ask the bitch that was here. Hang on, I got her name here somewhere. I wrote it down in case the check she gave me bounced." He went back into the apartment, leaving her standing outside. He returned a minute later with a Post-It note with scribbling on it. "Here, that's the name and address of the bitch that moved her stuff out."

  Delores took the paper and looked at it. V. Cartwright, One Cartwright Drive, Loudonville. "Did you get a phone number?"

  "Do I look like the fucking information booth?" he snarled. "That's all I know. Now, unless you're interested in renting the third floor, you're wasting my fucking time." He shut the door without waiting for an answer. Delores walked back to her car, puzzled. Anyone who lived on a street with the same name as theirs was no doubt rich, and the fact that it was in Loudonville, where no one on welfare could afford to live was even more intriguing. She decided she needed to find out more. She adjusted the pillow on the front seat, the only thing keeping the worn springs from pressing into her bottom, and turned the key several times before the twenty year old station wagon sputtered to life.