Flies on the Butter

by Denise Hildreth Jones

  “Are you going down there to see Billy?” She knew Jenny was probably hopping with excitement. Had Rosey been with her, she would have jerked her to a stop.

  “Yes, but we can’t let anyone know. My parents will kill me. Plus, we have to act mature. He is fourteen, you know,” Rosey said, clearing her throat.

  Jenny stopped hopping. Rosey could tell by the more dignified tone. “Yes, you’re right. We must show our maturation. So call me when you’re ready to head that way.”

  “I am calling you. That means I’m already ready to head that way, so hurry! Get in there and eat whatever it is y’all are eating, and meet me outside. I’ll be waiting at the corner.”

  “You can be so demanding,” Jenny huffed. “Are you wearing your suit?”

  “My bathing suit?” Rosey responded, making it clear it had never crossed her mind. “No way. I’m not wearing my bathing suit.”

  “Well, we are going to the river,” Jenny reminded.

  “I don’t care. I’m still not letting him see me in my bathing suit. I’ll just swim in my shorts if I need to.”

  That wasn’t enough for Jenny. “Won’t that look suspicious? Us going to the river in our clothes?”

  “You don’t always have to swim at the river,” Rosey retorted.

  “You don’t?”

  “No, sometimes people just walk by the river, throw rocks in the river, sit by the river. Only children have to always swim in the river.”

  “Oh . . .” Jenny said slowly. “I see. This is all about the maturation thing.”

  “Yes, my sweet, silly Jenny—this is all about our maturation.”

  5

  A new song propelled Rose back to reality. She and Jenny hadn’t talked in years. Not since Rose’s life blew up and she went to college. Last she heard, Jenny had married a former professional football player turned pastor and was living somewhere in Nashville. Come to think of it, Jenny had actually called her a few times in past years, but for some reason Rose never called her back. In fact, until this moment she hadn’t thought about Jenny in ages.

  Rose raced by a smoldering car with a child in the backseat. She slowed and caught a glimpse in her rearview mirror of a frantic woman emerging from the well-worn vehicle with smoke billowing from the hood. Rose didn’t stop for strangers. Where she came from, they would rob you or even kill you. But her car braked and pulled onto the shoulder.

  “I’ve gone over the deep end today,” she assured herself.

  It was certain. This was the only explanation for why in the world she had just pulled over to help a complete stranger. She moved the sleek gearshift into reverse and rolled backward, but she stopped a few yards from the billowing smoke. If the car blew, she didn’t want the explosion messing up her car in the process.

  Rose’s two-inch-heeled boots clicked on the pavement as she headed toward the clearly upset traveler. She wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders to defend against the bitter cold. Granted, a sweat suit would have been more appropriate attire for the journey. But not for Rose. No, her baby blue cashmere sweater and perfectly flowing chocolate wool pants were how Rose traveled. To Rose all details mattered. Because everything in her life said something.

  Rose raised her hand to shield some of the wind from her face as it whipped her hair. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  The frazzled face looked up at her in desperation. “I don’t know what to do!” The woman paced in front of the car with her hands jammed in her coat pockets, shivering. “I told my husband it was going to break down, but he wouldn’t believe me! My little boy is back there, and it’s cold, and—ooh, I could just scream!”

  “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay,” Rose said, reaching out her hands, hoping to stay the woman’s nerves. “Have you called him yet?”

  The woman squinted at Rose. “Lady, do you see a pay phone around here anywhere?”

  Rose had forgotten pay phones existed. “How about I just let you use my cell phone, and we’ll call somebody to come get you.”

  “You’d do that for me?” The woman’s eyes softened, glistening through her frustrated tears.

  “Sure, just bring your little boy to my car, and you both can stay warm while you make your call.”

  The tears dried up instantly, and the woman scanned Rose up and down as if making sure Rose wasn’t some stranger coming to kill her. That caused Rose to chuckle inside, relieving the murder worries of her own. “You aren’t some crazy murderer in expensive clothes, are you?”

  Well, honesty was good. And rather welcome in a moment like this. Rose smiled. “No, I assure you. I have no murdering agenda today.” Maybe that wasn’t the best phrase.

  “What do you mean today? Have you had one some other day?” The woman moved to the side of the car.

  Rose reached her hands out again. “No, no, I was just joking. In fact, I was wondering if I should even pick you up, in case you were some kind of murderer. So I guess that means we’re both pretty safe.”

  “That’s my treasure back there,” the lady said, pointing to the sleeping child in the car seat in the back. “I can’t let anything happen to him.”

  “Then let’s get him into a warm car and get somebody to take you home.” She motioned.

  The stranded motorist gave Rose the once-over one more time, but she eventually made up her mind and walked to the back of the car, unlocked the car seat, and picked up the diaper bag. She refused to let Rose carry any of her belongings, so all Rose could do was watch the stranger lug them and her child to her car. Even with all the commotion, including the clicking of the seat belt into the new backseat, the towheaded baby never opened his eyes.

  Once they were settled in the car, Rose pulled off her wrap and laid it in her lap. She handed the phone to the woman.

  “I’ll try my husband first,” she said, studying Rose’s BlackBerry. “How’s this fandangled thing work?” She blew at a piece of hair that had come loose from her neatly clasped ponytail.

  “Here, let me help you.” Rose dialed the number and watched as the stranger placed it up against her ear, then pulled it back just to make sure it was working, then put it back against her head one more time.

  Rose started the car and turned up the heat. She turned the seat heaters on, but she didn’t bother explaining that one.

  “Hello? Hello?” the lady said into the receiver. “Is Walter there? . . . He’s what? At lunch?” She looked at her watch. “Well, tell him I’m stranded on the side of the road, and he needs to come and get me, because it’s all his fault anyway!” she announced.

  Rose thought she was the only one who talked into phones that way. This was irritable. Rose wasn’t irritable. This lady was irritable. Of course, she was stranded by the side of the road in freezing-cold weather, with a baby in the backseat, but if Helen had heard this woman, then she would know that Rose wasn’t the only one who had irritability issues.

  Her passenger laughed. “And then tell him we’re all fine and that we love him. Because if you don’t tell him that, he’ll worry himself into a case of irritable bowel syndrome, and I don’t have time for that today either.”

  Apparently irritability ran in the family.

  “How do you cut this thing off ?” she asked, holding out the BlackBerry as if it might come to life.

  Rose took it, noting the woman’s soft and clean hands as she did. She looked in her rearview mirror and studied the little boy’s face. Clean and sweet. The car seat was older, she could tell, but even though their clothes looked as worn as their vehicle, their appearance was neat and tidy. Rose wasn’t sure what she had expected. Ketchup stains maybe.

  “I’m Lilly,” the now-identified stranger said as she darted her hand into Rose’s driving area.

  Rose scrunched up her arm since her hand didn’t have far to travel to greet the welcoming appendage. “I’m Rose. Rose Fletcher.”

  “Well, we could just open us up a greenhouse,” Lilly said, cracking herself up.

  Rose gazed at her c
ompanion and couldn’t help but smile. “You know,” she said, “I could just take you home, if you don’t mind leaving your car here.”

  Lilly’s animated expression grew solemn.

  “But I don’t have to, if you don’t want me to.” Rose added quickly, trying to squelch another case of nerves.

  “No, no . . .” Lilly paused. “You’d do that? I mean, you’ve just been so nice already. I couldn’t ask you to do any more.”

  Rose glanced at the clock. At the rate she was going, she wouldn’t see home until midnight. Surely the time to take Lilly home was less than the time she would use up sitting here in the hope that Walter chose a short lunch and didn’t work too far away. “Really, it’s no bother.”

  “Well, I only live about ten minutes up the road. I’d walk it if it weren’t so cold,” she said, turning her head to gaze out the window. Except for the evergreens that lined the interstate and separated them from the access road, the trees were barren.

  “No, no one’s walking in this. You just give me directions and I’ll get you and your little fella home,” Rose said, putting the car in drive and pulling onto the highway. “What’s his name?”

  “That’s Walter Wally Williams the third.” She giggled and put her hand over her mouth. “Isn’t that pitiful? That a child would go through his entire life being called Walter Wally Williams the third. So I just call him Jack,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. As if that were a completely logical substitute. “I told my Walter, one Walter around here is enough. So we’re calling our boy Jack.”

  The mention of her husband’s name caused Rose to shift in her seat. “Well, I think Jack is a fine name.” That was the best she could muster.

  “Well, he’s the pride of our life,” Lilly said and turned in her seat for a moment to admire her little fella. “It took me and Walter ten years to get all the plumbing working, if you know what I mean. We thought about everything though. In vitro. Out vitro.” She chuckled. “A surrogate. A neighbor. My word, we were about ready to see if my mama could have him for us.”

  Rose hoped the horror on her face was erased before Lilly saw it.

  “That was exactly how I felt.” Obviously Lilly didn’t miss much. “So Walter and I finally told the Lord, ‘Lord, we’re not sure why you haven’t given us any children. But the thought of our mama carrying one for us just feels a little, well, weird. So if we end up having to adopt, you know what we need. All babies need a home.’ And it wasn’t three months later I was throwing up lunch, and I had never been so happy in all my life. Six months later, Jack made his appearance.”

  Rose looked back at the little guy. She couldn’t believe that he hadn’t so much as stirred. The ache pressed forward. Her mind pushed it back. And she focused back on the road.

  “So what about you?” asked Lilly. “Any little Jacks floating around? I notice that you don’t have a wedding ring on, but nowadays that doesn’t mean you don’t have a baby or two.”

  Now would’ve been a perfect time for little Jack to rise and shine. Rose stared at her hand on the steering wheel. There was still a slight white tan line from either the summer or the ten years that had left a permanent remnant of her and Jack’s life. Unfortunately, Rose was still trying to erase any other remnants. “Little Jacks?” she managed.

  “Yeah, rugrats, mongrels, precious littles.”

  Rose’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. So did the pressure on her chest. “No. No little Jacks floating around. No little Jacks at all . . .” Her voice quieted.

  “Well, it’s probably best, honey. If you don’t have a husband, you really don’t need to try to raise one on your own. They can be demanding little critters. Don’t let that angelic face back there fool you.” She laughed again. “Actually, you may as well. He’s one of the most perfect little people I’ve ever been around.”

  Rose had wanted perfect. Strived for perfection. Unfortunately for Rose, perfection came with too great a price.

  Jack placed the small package beside Rose’s dinner plate. They were using the Lynn Chase Jaguar Jungle pattern they had registered for when they married five years earlier. The first few years of their marriage had been wonderful. For those years they had just enjoyed life together. Especially buying and renovating their home. The Cape Cod was a disaster when they bought it. The washer and dryer were in the master bathroom. They thought that would make for great conversation but moved them to the second floor anyway. They took out walls, mirrored others, and wallpapered more. And by the time they were through, they loved it and each other more.

  Those first few years, there wasn’t a room that love couldn’t be made in. But Rose noticed a tear in the sofa about the time the tears in the marriage appeared. And the enjoyment had turned more businesslike, formal, different.

  The teriyaki-glazed salmon with saffron rice on their plates was like something out of a magazine. But all Rose’s meals were. Beautiful. Pristine. Perfect. Just like Rose’s appearance. Just like their house. And Rose made each and every meal all by herself.

  “What’s this?” Rose asked when she saw the beautifully wrapped present. She sat down, picked up her linen napkin, and laid it neatly across her lap.

  Jack tucked her chair in. “It’s for you, beautiful,” he said, kissing the top of her head, then seating himself.

  She picked up the delicate white box and untied the pink ribbon. She laid the ribbon neatly by her plate and lifted the small lid. She moved the tissue that covered the treasure, and when she caught a glimpse of what was inside, she felt a sudden streak of fear cascade through her entire body.

  Jack studied her. It wasn’t something they hadn’t talked about. It just wasn’t something they had talked about lately. “You know what it is, don’t you?” he asked.

  Rose collected herself. “Sure, yes, sure I do. It’s that baby rattle you’ve had since you were little.”

  “Yeah, it’s the one you wanted to make sure we saved for our baby. Well, I think it’s about time for that baby, don’t you?” he asked softly.

  Rose laid the box next to her plate without pulling out the silver-plated baby rattle.

  “We’ve been married five years. Aren’t you ready to start a family?” She saw fear creep into Jack’s eyes.

  “It’s just . . .” She searched every cavity of her mind for some viable reason. Or at least a reason he’d believe.

  “I know,” he said, clearly trying to reassure her. “I know, it doesn’t feel like the right time with your career going as well as it is, and with the way I still have to travel. But now that you’re getting busier at work, then maybe we could take some pressure off of you here. Hire a housekeeper maybe. Eat out some and not feel like you have to make dinner every night. That’s a lot of pressure, Rosey. And I don’t expect you to do everything.”

  Rose squirmed in her seat. “But I can’t quit my job and raise children. Is that what you want from me? No, my job is too important right now, and these are defining years for me.”

  Jack got up out of his chair and walked over to hers. He knelt at her side, very similar to the way he had six years earlier when he had asked her to marry him. She saw the hurt in his face.

  “I know you love your job. And you’re great at your job.” He took her hands from her lap and brought them to his mouth. He kissed them softly, and his hazel eyes made their way back to her face. “I don’t want to take anything from you. I’m just trying to help you realize that not everything has to be perfect around here for us to have children. The house doesn’t have to be perfect, baby. Shoot, if we want to leave our under-wear on the bathroom floor or not make the bed for a day, it’s not going to kill us, I promise.”

  She wasn’t convinced.

  “I want part of me and you together. I want a piece of us in this world. I want to see someone with your beautiful eyes and my charming personality.”

  She took her hand and rubbed his face softly. She truly loved him. But she wasn’t sure she loved him this much. “I’ll try,” she fin
ally offered.

  “You will?” His face lit up.

  “But it could take awhile,” she reminded. “Babies aren’t made the first time you try.”

  “That’s all right,” he said, pulling her out of her chair. “I’ll enjoy the trying.” He kissed her softly. And in a few moments, Rose and Jack were reliving the passion that had been theirs in those first few years together. And the salmon and saffron rice were just heated up later.

  Once Jack had fallen asleep, Rose crawled out of bed and went into the bathroom. She quietly removed the birth control pills from the trash can where Jack and she had earlier thrown them away together. She hid them in a purse in the closet. They’d be safe there.

  She leaned against the edge of the closet door and was unable to prevent the tears that fell. She did love loving him. And in the core of her heart, having a part of them alive and living life with them was one of her greatest desires. But Jack didn’t understand everything. Perfect people from perfect families rarely did. This was for their own good.

  “Oh, this is my exit.” Lilly’s voice jolted Rose back to the snug environment she knew. She slowed and drove them off the highway, softly rubbing her cashmere wrap with one hand. “Turn right on this first street here,” Lilly said, pointing.

  Rose turned onto a small strip of road with ten double-wide trailers neatly lined in a row. She pulled in front of Lilly’s. The trailer had a white picket fence around a small yard, and a white iron table on a porch that extended from the front. It was quaint and neat. Just like Lilly.

  “Well, I’m not sure why our paths crossed today, Rose, but I hope we meet again someday. You’ve been mighty kind to me and little Jack here,” she said, reaching for the car door.

  Rose got out and walked around to help. Surely Lilly trusted her enough to carry something to the door of the house now. Lilly lifted Jack from the backseat and left the diaper bag for Rose. As they walked to the door, Lilly scrounged for her keys while balancing Jack in her arms. Upon their retrieval, she opened the front door and carried Jack inside. She set his car seat on the floor next to a plaid chenille sofa with wooden wraparound arms.