Time To Love Again

by Roseanne Dowell

  Emma stood next to her and laughed. "See you stupid old fool. Go ahead, complain about the kids. Tell him how they're ruining your grass or that you don't want a snowman in your yard. Go on tell him."

  Rose composed herself and remembered her manners. "Please, come in." His eyes hypnotized and held hers. Maybe he'd refuse her invitation. Why did she invite him in, anyway? She didn't want to spend time with him. Didn't want to get to know him better. She took a step back, so he could come in. She held the plate of cookies and motioned toward the kitchen.

  "No, I just brought Sarah over to apologize." His soft voice suddenly became stiff, formal. He turned Sarah toward their house. "I hope she doesn't bother you again."

  They walked away, leaving Rose standing there. Disappointment spread through her. Why should she be disappointed? She hadn't really wanted him to come in.

  Did she?

  Still, he could have been a little friendlier. It wasn't every day she invited someone in.

  "Why should he be friendly? How many times has he tried to talk to you? And what did you do? Nod and keep walking." Emma's voice intruded. "You never so much as said a simple hello. Even today when he helped you, you weren't friendly, even after he gave you the rose. Downright rude was what you were."

  Rose ignored the vision standing next to her and didn't bother with a reply. She didn't really want him to come in anyway. They lived next door for over a year, and she never even bothered to find out their names. She ought to be happy he brought the kid over to apologize. Not that he had to. "Stephen Daniels." She let the name roll off her tongue. Liked the way it felt, the way it sounded.

  Something told her she was asking for trouble.

  And she especially didn't like the sparks he set off in her.

  * * *

  She's an attractive woman, Stephen thought, despite the fact that her hair needs combed and a little lipstick would work wonders, but he kind of like the tousled natural look. He judged her to be in her late fifties and wondered why she acted so crabby. He had been staying with Sarah for almost a year now and other than her usual nod hello, she hadn't spoken to him. His attempt to speak with her earlier had failed as usual. Even when he helped her up, she ignored him. He only knew her name from other neighbors. What a fool to bring her a rose. But still...something about her.

  I should have gone in, Stephen thought as he walked back across the yard with Sarah. It would have been the neighborly thing to do. "But she's never appeared neighborly, so why should I?"

  "What?" Sarah stomped through the snow next to him.

  "Hmm, what? Oh, nothing." He hadn't meant to speak aloud, but something about Rose Asbury bothered him. He knew she was a widow with two grown kids that didn't come around much. Maybe that's why she's so crabby. Well, not his problem. Why did he even bother? She obviously had no intention of making friends. Course, she did invite him in. Wasn't that a break through? But it was only a half-hearted invitation. She hadn't really meant it. She looked none the worse for her fall.

  Hell, why did he let that woman get under his skin? They went into the house, and he reminded Sarah she still had homework to finish. "See if you can get it done by dinnertime."

  Chapter Five

  That wasn't so bad, Sarah thought. At least we didn't have to go in. She even smiled at me– maybe she's not so bad. At least she talked to Grandpa and even invited us in.

  Sarah didn't feel like doing homework, but she had promised Grandpa, so she sat down at her desk. She stared at the book and wondered what her parents were doing. Please, God, take care of them, she prayed. She was scared they weren't going to come back. She had seen the news, even though Grandpa tried to keep it from her. Every day more soldiers got killed. Why did Mommy and Daddy both have to go? It wasn't fair. She threw her book on the floor, knocked over the chair, and threw herself on the bed. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she buried her face in the pillow. She hated Mommy and Daddy gone. She loved Grandpa, but she wanted Mommy and Daddy. It just wasn't fair. She wanted them to come home. Christmas was almost here, and they wouldn't be home. Living with Grandpa just wasn't the same

  Sarah sat up and wiped the tears. She walked across the bedroom to the window and looked out. Already stars filled the sky. "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight." Sarah squeezed her eyes closed and wished that Mommy and Daddy could come home for Christmas. Grandpa said all they could do was pray for them. "Please, God," Sarah looked at the sky, "please bring Mommy and Daddy home for Christmas."

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs and Sarah turned away from the window, hurried to pick up the books and chair and sat down on her bed. She opened the books and pretended to do her homework. The door opened and Grandpa stood watching her. He didn't say anything, just looked at her for a minute, closed the door, and left.

  She slammed the book closed and laid back on her bed. Why should she do her homework? Who cared anyway?

  Chapter Six

  Rose stood at the door stunned, unable to move. Never had anything affected her so much. It was like she was the one reprimanded. Finally, she closed the door and recovered. Such nonsense. Now maybe those kids wouldn't bother her anymore.

  Since she had her jacket on, she decided to go for a ride. She had to get out of the house– escape from her memories, escape from that damn ghostly vision.

  She drove past the neighboring houses. Most of them looked warm and inviting. Christmas lights and displays lit up many of the front yards. She missed her lights and decorations.

  She and Frank usually had their house and yard decorated first, even though they didn't turn the lights on until Thanksgiving Day. A tradition started by her mother.

  Always the first to put up their tree too. She laughed at the memory of the way her neighbors used to complain. Not that she cared. She spent a whole day just setting up the village under the tree. She wanted to enjoy it for more than a week.

  She always loved the holiday season. Even the hustle and bustle of shopping, especially when the kids were little. Back then people seemed friendlier during the holidays. Not like now when everyone was in such a hurry. Trouble with today both parents worked. Had too much to do. But back then holidays were family times. Visiting neighbors, baking. A warm, happy time. A time to love.

  The one time of the year everyone smiled and wished everyone well.

  The excitement when Frank and the kids hauled the boxes from the attic came back to her. So many of the ornaments her mother and grandmothers had passed down to her. None of them had a monetary value, just sentimental. It had been fun telling the kids stories about them. When the kids went to bed, she and Frank curled up on the couch in each other's arms. The tree lights created a romantic atmosphere. They sat that way for hours staring at the tree. Happy and content just to be together.

  How peaceful it had been. God, she missed the kids, the holidays, and all the excitement. Where had the time gone? The kids were grown and gone with their own kids now. Frank was gone and here she was alone.

  Sometimes she hated being alone. Hated not having someone to talk to, share her day with.

  "Change it then. Invite people in. Get your life back. Call your old friends, they'd probably be happy to hear from you. Talk to the man next door, make new friends."

  The voice startled Rose. Now it followed her to the car? Was she losing her mind? Seeing things, hearing things? She looked at the passenger seat and could just make out the figure– Emma's profile.

  She turned onto Ridgewood Drive. Tears filled her eyes and forced her to pull into a parking lot. She slammed her fist on the steering wheel and tried to hold back the tears. Finally, she let loose and cried. She didn't know how long she sat there before she regained her composure.

  What was wrong with her this year? Feelings of melancholy weren't new, but this year was as bad, or worse, than the first year Frank died. She missed him more each year.

  And Emma's voice, where had it come from? No matter how she
tried, she couldn't get rid of it. Emma had always yelled at her about feeling sorry for herself after Frank died.

  "Get on with life, Rose," she used to say. "You're a young woman. Crawl out of that shell."

  It was easy for Emma to say– she still had her husband. He came home from work every night. They ate together, slept together. No, Emma didn't understand.

  The days weren't too bad. Rose handled them. But those nights. Those long, lonely, sleepless nights became almost unbearable. That's when she missed Frank the most. That's what Emma didn't understand.

  "You still have to live," Emma argued when she tried to explain. "Locking yourself away isn't going to bring Frank back."

  Okay, Emma was right. Nothing would bring Frank back. That didn't change the feelings. Didn't stop the pain. She had even tried to socialize, but she hated the sympathetic, yet distrusting, looks from the other women. And the men, most of them shied away from her. Afraid of their wives, most likely. Wimps! Like she wanted any of them? She laughed out loud. Not one of them could hold a candle to Frank.

  Stephen on the other hand, well, maybe he could. Damn it, what made her think of him? She shook her head, tried to clear his vision from her mind. She didn't want to think about him.

  "Why not think about him, Rose? He's alive and so are you," Emma's voice intruded on her thoughts. "Are you afraid you're being disloyal to Frank?"

  Was that it? Rose wondered. Did she think she was being unfaithful? Was she afraid to let go of Frank? Of his memory?

  She thought back to the year Frank died. She had put up her tree and decorations that year. Had even stood on the ladder and put the lights on the house outside. It wasn't easy, but she managed. Then the kids moved away and couldn't come home, none of it made sense. After Emma died everything seemed worthless. Just a lot of work for nothing. No one missed the decorations. No one really cared.

  "No one but you," Emma said.

  True, she did miss them but that was an awful lot of work for just her.

  "Sure, but the neighbors enjoyed them."

  "Then let the neighbors put them up." Damn that woman infuriated her. Always knew how to push the right buttons.

  Rose looked around the parking lot. Louise lived only two streets away. She picked up her cell phone and made a quick call.

  "Louise, are you busy? I'm in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop in if that's okay."

  "Of course, Rose. You know you're always welcome."

  A few minutes later, Rose turned onto Regency Drive and parked on the street. She walked up the drive.

  Louise had gone all out this year. White lights sparkled in all the bushes and lined the long drive. Spot lights lit up a nativity set on one side of the yard and on the other side Santa with a sleigh full of packages and eight reindeer sat in front of Santa's workshop. They must be new. Rose didn't remember seeing them before.

  Louise met her at the door.

  "Rose, what's wrong?" Louise hugged her and planted a kiss on each of her cheek.

  Rose looked at her friend. The woman never changed. In all the years they knew each other, Louise looked the same as the day they met. She hadn't aged a bit. Blond hair, not a strand out of place, and immaculate make-up, as usual. Her blue eyes radiated happiness.

  Louise's life was full with husband, kids and grandkids. Yet, she always made time for friends and volunteer work. Rose envied her.

  Everyone could count on Louise. Always the first one with a casserole for a sick friend or the one who held your hand through a loved one's surgery. She listened if you wanted to talk or prayed with you if you wanted to pray.

  Louise was a friend in the truest sense of the word. When she asked, "How are you?" She really wanted to know. It wasn't just a polite way of saying hello.

  And Louise listened. Everyone turned to Louise if they had a problem. No matter how busy, Louise made time and lent a sympathetic ear. She laughed with you when you were happy, cried with you when you were sad. She celebrated your accomplishments and agonized over your defeats.

  What would she have done these past years without Louise? The only bad thing, Louise tried to talk her into joining this group or that? Not to mention trying to play cupid. Like she needed another man in her life.

  Years ago, they had both enjoyed volunteering for different organizations, but since Emma's death, Rose couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't bare smiling and helping people. Louise had tried to talk her into seeing a grief counselor, but Rose didn't want any part of it. She had to deal with the grief her own way.

  She just wanted to be left alone.

  "Well, you're alone now and look at you," Emma said. Are you happy? Why are you here, crying on Louise's shoulders?"

  Rose pushed Emma's voice aside. Why had her sister followed her here? Suddenly, Rose couldn't control the sobs and tried to explain her feelings. "I honestly don't know. I guess I'm just having a pity party for myself."

  Louise poured coffee, and Rose sat at the table in the large country kitchen. Santas stared at her from the shelves around the room. A four foot ceramic Mr. and Mrs. Claus stood near a sleigh in front of the fireplace that took up one entire wall of the spacious room.

  Rose envied Louise's knack for decorating and her sunroom that boasted a miniature size Christmas village with moving figures, houses and a train set around the tree.

  Everything looked perfect. Just like Louise.

  Perfect marriage, perfect children. An all around perfect life. Yet Rose didn't begrudge her friend. Louise was always there for her. Always lent a helping hand to everyone. She deserved perfect. Rose wondered when Louise found the time to clean, cook, volunteer, make time for friends, and manage not to neglect her family.

  She always made everyone feel special. Even now as Rose sat here in the warmth of Louise's kitchen, she didn't feel like an intruder. Louise had a graciousness about her that welcomed you no matter what she was doing.

  The delicious aroma of a roast or stew reminded Rose it was almost dinnertime. The mixture of carrots and potatoes mingled with the aroma of beef and a hint of garlic made her stomach growl. Had she forgotten to eat again? She did that so often lately. Was she losing her mind? Hearing voices, seeing things, forgetting things.

  She loved this room, always had. It felt warm and inviting, especially with all the decorations. Rose suddenly missed the mess and joy of holiday decorations.

  She tried to explain her feelings to Louise. "I guess I'm just feeling melancholy. I don't know what's wrong me."

  "It's the holidays. That's normal. But you've become such a recluse it's harder for you. You know my feelings on that."

  Oh, Rose knew all right. Had heard it many times. Join this group or that. She didn't care to hear it again. "I'm not sure that's it this time. I mean I know the holidays are part of it, but there's something more." She thought about telling Louise about the voice but decided not to. "To make matters worse the little girl next door and her friends have been harassing me."

  "Harassing you? How?"

  Rose told Louise about Stephen Daniels and his granddaughter. "Something about the little girl reminds me of Melinda. Remember how she always managed to get into trouble, even when she thought she was doing something good?"

  Louise listened like she always did. "So she doesn't really annoy you? Does she? Why does it bother you so much that they play in your yard?"

  "I just want to be left alone. Is that too much to ask?"

  "But playing in your yard isn't anything, Rose. I mean it's not like they're knocking on your door and running away. Making you get up or anything like that. They're not talking to you. Don't you remember how our kids played in everyone's yard, especially when they were building snowmen? They'd start in one yard and roll the ball of snow into yours." Louise's look said she thought there was more to it.

  "There's no more. The old man next door came with Sarah to apologize and that was that." Rose stirred her coffee a little too vigorously. A habit she hated– but had developed when she felt
nervous or tense. "Well, except for earlier when I made a complete fool of myself in front of him."

  Louise nodded and waited for Rose to continue.

  "I was hurrying to get away from him, and I slipped and fell. Groceries went flying everywhere. Then he tried to help me up. I swear he felt halfway up my leg, looking for broken bones." Rose shivered at the memory of his warm, gentle hands.

  "So how did you make a fool of yourself?"

  "By falling, what do you think? I must have looked like a beached whale laying there on the ground."

  "A beached whale?" Louise laughed. "Honey, you don't look anything like a whale. Haven't you looked in the mirror lately? You've lost so much weight, you almost look anorexic."