She sat up but hugged her pillow. For an eternity, we sat there and wallowed in our private thoughts. I didn’t know whether to leave my bed and hug her, go wake up Mom, or lie back down. Then Rose broke the awful silence.
“He didn’t do it—do it often. I mean, it wasn’t like he did it every day or…or…” She looked directly at me, and I suddenly felt like a thousand bugs were crawling up and down my back.
“Oh, Rose.” I swallowed a lump lodged in my throat. “Do you…do you want me to get Mom?”
“No. No. There’s nothing she can do. It’s in the past. My father won’t be able t-to hurt me again.”
“Yeah, I guess not.” The bugs hadn’t gone away and I shivered. “How did you live through it? I think I would’ve killed myself.” I hugged my knees. “Couldn’t you tell your mother?” I swallowed again. “Did your mother know?”
Rose shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t remember very well. I-I always let my mind think of other things when it was happening. You know?”
No, I didn’t know. I never in my wildest imagination could know. Just thinking about my dad doing something so obscene made me want to throw up. The bugs kept crawling down my back…up and down my arms. I coughed. Bile had come up my throat. I didn’t know what to say to this girl, sitting so calmly in the next bed. If it’d been me, I would’ve been screaming and crying and throwing things.
Rose broke into my turbid thoughts. “Kate. It’s okay.”
I shook my head. “No. No, it’s not okay. That kind of thing will never be okay.”
“He’s dead.”
I sucked in a deep breath. My stomach felt like someone punched me and punched me good. I wasn’t some delicate thing who’d been overly protected from “real” life. On the contrary. I knew such things existed even though I hadn’t made dwelling on them a favorite pastime. But hearing it from someone firsthand made it gut-wrenchingly horrid. “Oh, Rose. I’m so sorry. I wish I could say something…do something.”
“Thanks, Kate. But, well, it wasn’t him hurting me that was so bad. It was how he treated Jimmy-John that frightened me—sickened me—scared me more than I can ever explain. That’s why I never could leave him alone for even one minute.” She visibly shuddered. “I-I even used to take him into the bathroom with me when I took my-my bath. We didn’t have a shower curtain like we have here, so I-I found some material that somebody had given my mother and hung that up for privacy.” She laughed and it wasn’t a pretty sound. “Doesn’t matter—the details, I mean. But, yes, in answer to your question, our father abused us. He’d drink too much then start yelling and swearing and hitting anything in his way. Jimmy-John was often in his way. My poor little baby brother, who is as sweet as they come, was in the way.” Her voice broke. “When he’d calm down a little…he’d come after me. Then he’d go somewhere to sleep it off. Always, by the next morning, he’d act as though…as though nothing had happened the night before. Always.”
“I’m so sorry, Rose.” What else could I say?
She looked at me for several seconds then whispered, “I know you are. Thank you, Kate, for being, well…you.”
“You’re kidding.” I made a feeble attempt to chuckle. It came out more a guttural hack.
“No. No, I’m not kidding. I feel like a lowly worm who’s turned into a butterfly.” Her chuckle sounded genuine. “Gosh, Kate. I feel better than I ever remember feeling before. I can actually see myself enjoying high school, joining chorus, taking accelerated art—so many things.” This time her laughter bubbled over. “Just imagine. Me. Me in chorus. And art. Oh, my gosh, that gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.”
“Yeah and you’re really so talented you just might get a scholarship to college or some prestigious art school. We’ll have to talk with the counselor about it—what you should be doing and stuff. Whoa. Now I’ve got goosebumps.”
She bounced a little on the bed. “Oh, I’m so excited. It’s like I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I have a future. I know that must sound overly dramatic to you, but I’m serious. Before. Well, before my bursting out of my cocoon, I didn’t have a thought about the next hour, let alone next year or three years from now. I’m going to college. I am. I’m going to college and study art. And who knows? Maybe I’ll be famous and open my own gallery.”
I laughed. “Now that’s something to think about. I bet you’ll do it, too. Gosh, maybe we can go to the same college. Room together. Oh, yeah. Life is good.” I settled back against my pillow and sighed. “Thanks, Rose.”
“You’re welcome. And, thank you, Kate.”
“Ditto.” I giggled. “Or as Ms. Abrams would say, ‘Ibid.’”
No more words were exchanged. We both burrowed into our warm beds to follow a meandering path into dreamland. I know I fell asleep easily and was lost in a world of singing butterflies that hovered over giant red bicycles.
I won’t even try to read into that.
TWENTY-FIVE
February drizzled into March. Rose used all of one month’s allowance on art supplies and set up her easel in the corner of the kitchen. Mom, Dad, and I were amazed at what she was able to do in a matter of hours. One of her canvas boards was painted in bright reds, pinks, whites and greens and when you stood back, the whole picture was this incredible vase of roses. Awesome and a little humbling to see what she could do without a speck of training. She’d get that scholarship for sure. Already in the bag.
Rose was at her easel as usual when I strolled into the kitchen after having slept in until almost eleven. She looked up long enough to toss me a sassy grin before resuming a tedious dabbing of blue paint on a burbling stream. I glanced at her canvas but then sucked in a deep breath as the location rang a loud bell. The farm. She’d captured the apple orchard and the winding stream at my grandparents’ farm as though she’d been looking at a photograph. Seeing no snapshot of the place around, I stepped closer.
“Wow, Rose! How’d you remember so much detail? That’s awesome. It’s exactly how it looks—exactly. You’ve only been there once and you remembered all that? Sheesh, you’re nothing short of a genius, girl.”
Rose blushed. “Thanks, Kate. I loved the orchard and as soon as I saw it knew I wanted to paint it. Wish I could be sitting right in the middle of it and doing this for real.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, maybe. But this is great. I didn’t know you even saw it, seeing you were inside with Grams most of the time. And you’ve painted it like it was smack in the middle of blooming springtime, and that wasn’t how it looked when you were there. Man! As I said, this is awesome.”
After only two weeks, Rose had finished five paintings that my parents said were good enough to frame professionally. Rose let them pick their favorites and, true to their word, they hung one in our living room and another in the upstairs hallway. Mom told Rose to keep the others for her own house, even if that meant wrapping them and storing them until after graduation. We still had no idea how long they’d be with us, although I couldn’t help noticing covert looks passing between Mom and Dad on several occasions.
The days tumbled by like dominos and Rose and Jimmy-John continued living with us. On the last day in March, we got word that Bertie Coughlin had been released from jail. Her husband’s friend, who’d been his accomplice, finally confessed that Bertie had known absolutely nothing about their plans to hold up the convenience store. So the authorities released her. We were told all that, but nothing more. I was pretty sure my parents were in touch with her yet the kids remained with us and Bertie didn’t visit or even phone. I was bursting with questions and finally one afternoon when both Rose and Jimmy-John were out of the room, I asked my mother right out what was going on.
“Mom,” I leaned over her as she peeled potatoes at the kitchen sink.
“Hmm?”
“Do you actually know where Bertie Coughlin is?”
Mom straightened, set the peeler and potato down, and turned to look at me. “I’m…not sure
.”
“You’re not sure? Am I hearing this right? Bertie Coughlin has disappeared?”
“No, I didn’t say that. I just don’t know where she is—at the moment, I mean. Last we heard she was in St. Louis looking for a job. She, uh, doesn’t want to stay here—for obvious reasons.”
“Oh. Okay.” I was silent for a minute then said, “Okay. So does that mean Rose and Jimmy-John will be living with us for a while longer? I mean, for how long? Until the end of school? Until Rose is out of high school? What?”
Mom sighed. “I don’t know, Kate. And what I mean by that is, we’ve talked with Bertie and Social Services and by mutual agreement have decided to let her have some time to get her act together. We didn’t specify how much time but she needs to sort things out. Everything’s above board and all that, and your father and I are more than willing to help her in this. She’s been through a lot, and we are happy we can be there for her.” She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. “Why do you ask? I thought you and Rose were getting along just fine. Has something happened?”
I scooped up a handful of slimy potato peelings then dropped them back into the sink. “No, Mom, it’s nothing like that. Rose and I are totally okay with one another. I was just wondering. That’s all. So, have you discussed any of this with Rose? I mean, gosh, Mom, she is in ninth grade, you know. She’s almost an adult and should be treated like one. You know?” My voice trailed off as a pucker formed across my mother’s forehead.
“We’ve discussed it. Maybe not as much as we should, but we have told her some of the particulars. I just don’t want to rock the boat. She and Jimmy-John are coming along so nicely and, well, they seem so happy here and, well…”
“I get it. That’s fine. Just don’t leave Rose out in the cold. Okay? Mom, she’s been living a life I can’t even imagine and has been totally responsible for her little brother for years now. In some ways, she’s heaps more mature than I am.”
Mom smiled. “In some ways, maybe. But don’t sell yourself short, honey. You’ve been a real trouper in all this. Your dad and I are extremely proud of you.”
Heat rose up my neck. “Well, thanks. I’d gladly bask in your praise but really, Mom, having Rose and Jimmy-John living here has been an eye-opener—a really gut-awakening experience. If you’d told me a year ago that Rose would be my friend—and I mean my best friend—well, I’d have hit you over the head with a book or something. My only wish now is that they be able to stay with us for a long time. I mean that, Mom. I wish Bertie would never come back.”
Mom murmured something that I took as agreement. Leaning against the counter, I folded my arms and debated telling her my horrible secret. Rose hadn’t told me not to tell my mother, and it’d been preying on my conscience. “Mom?” My voice sounded tinny. She paused and raised her eyebrows. I plowed ahead. “Rose’s father used to abuse her.” There. I’d said it.
Mom visibly started. Her blue eyes stared at me in silence for an eternity, then she cleared her throat. “I thought as much.”
“You did?”
“Yes. Your dad and I have had long discussions about it, too. We even talked about it with social services.”
“Okay. And?”
“They questioned Bertie—”
“I hate that woman.”
“No, Kate. Never hate anybody. Bertie, apparently, didn’t know. We were told she broke down and wept bitterly. Seems it only happened when she worked nights.”
“Baloney,” I spat. “Is she blind? Or is her IQ below fifty? Didn’t know. Yeah, right. How could she not know? I don’t believe it.”
“Well, honey…we have to. I really want to believe her. I want to think that there’s light at the end of this long, dark tunnel.”
“Oh, Mom.” I felt like smacking her. No one could be so naïve. But, of course, I didn’t. I just sighed and said, “I hope you’re right. But I still think the whole thing sucks.”
Mom winced. “Oh, Kate.”
I made a face. “Sorry.” I gave her a quick hug. “Okay, enough drama. Gotta run. Homework, you know.” And with that, I fled to the sanctuary of my room. My head and heart were both spinning. The subject made me sick, and the thought of Rose and Jimmy-John leaving us just about killed me. Crazy as it sounds, I now thought of Rose and Jimmy-John as my adopted sister and brother. I couldn’t visualize my world without them.
TWENTY-SIX
It was a Friday afternoon in April. I squealed as I stepped off the bus into a biting wind. “Gosh, I’m tired of this. I mean, it’s supposed to be spring, for gosh sakes. Who talks about Global Warming? Man! I wish it’d make up its mind. One day it’s balmy, the next it’s arctic,” I groaned. “I am so ready for summer. I want to wear shorts and go swimming and eat ice cream cones—”
Rose wrinkled her nose and laughed. Her laugh reminded me of a bubbling brook, and every time I heard Rose laugh, it made me laugh, too. That infectious.
“You can eat ice cream cones now, silly,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “You don’t have to wait until summer.”
I made a face. “Oh, I know. It’s just not the same, though. I want to savor each lick with the feel of warm sunshine on my back. You know? I’d like to complain about being too hot and sweaty for a change.”
“Oh, pooh. You just like to complain. I think you like hearing yourself talk.” Rose teased.
“Hmmm, maybe so.”
Jimmy-John piped up. “Can we have ice cream cones now?”
Rose pinched his cheek. “No, sweetie, we can’t. Mrs. Merrick probably has a healthier snack in mind.”
We entered the house still talking about ice cream and which flavors were best. I was belaboring the point I’d made concerning chocolate versus vanilla when Mom met us in the living room. She wore a strained look, and I knew instantly something was wrong. Really wrong.
“Hi, Mom. What’s up? You look like the stock market just crashed.”
“Hi, kids. Everybody have a good day at school?”
“Oh, yeah, it was passable, but we’re sure ready for the weekend.” My senses were on high alert. I knew Mom was hedging because she didn’t know how to say what was on her mind. It was killing me.
“Good, good. Hang up your coats and get a snack. Then come into the living room. I need to talk to everybody.”
“Mom! Can’t you just tell us now? Why all the cloak and dagger?” I pressed.
That made her cheeks get pink. “No, I really can’t, hon. Besides, I need to call your dad right now, so you go on and have your snack. Wash your hands, Jimmy-John.”
I did as Mom asked, but a niggling fear sprouted in the pit of my stomach. I had a feeling that what my mother had to say was something I really didn’t want to hear. Mom usually was so disgustingly cheerful and overly optimistic that when she looked droopy, it had to be something major.
I got the snacks ready without paying much attention to what I was doing. We ate our slices of apple, cubes of cheddar cheese without saying more than a few sentences apiece. The feeling of foreboding was tangible. As soon as we finished, we joined Mom in the living room.
“Oh, you’re done with your snack already? Okay. Okay, that’s good, that’s good,” she chirped. Her rose-colored glasses were back on, so I knew she and Dad had made some sort of joint decision about whatever had upset them. “Sit down, kids, I have something to tell you.”
“Is it…is it bad news?” Rose moved closer to her little brother on the sofa.
“Oh, no! I mean, well, it all depends on how you look at it,” Mom was not acting like her usual complacent self. “I mean, for us…well, it’s sad, but for you, Rose, I’m sure it’s going to be just fine. Just fine.” She cleared her throat. “We got word today that your mother is coming to get you. You’ll be, uh, going to live with her in East St. Louis. Won’t that be great? I know how much you’ve missed her.”
Rose lowered her eyes for a second then straightened her shoulders, looked up, and smiled. “Yes, we have missed her. Thank you, Mrs. Merrick.
We’re going to miss you, too. You’ve been kinder to Jimmy-John and me than anyone—” She swallowed. “Than anyone I can remember. W-we love you…very much. Thank you for your kindness.”
I couldn’t help myself. I burst out with a loud, “Damn!”
Of course Mom grimaced and gave me The Look.
I made a face and shrugged. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.” I looked at Rose. “It’s just kind of a shock, that’s all.”
“Are you that glad to be rid of us?” Rose teased.
That only made me more upset. I stared miserably into the other girl’s eyes. “No! Darn it, Rose. We’ve been living like sisters for the past few months and I’ve…I’ve gotten used to having you around—if you know what I mean.”
Rose’s smile widened and she blushed. “Does that mean you’re going to miss me?”
“Well, yeah. Duh. Of course I’m going to miss you. Craziest thing, huh?” My stupid voice cracked.
“Rose,” Mom interjected, “please know that we want the very best for you and Jimmy-John. Mr. Merrick and I are going to miss you, but we think you need to be with your mother. Don’t you agree?”
Rose nodded. “Of course. Yes. That would be the best thing for everybody.”
Mom nodded, like she was relieved Rose was taking it so well. Jimmy-John, however, leaned against his sister and jabbed a thumb into his mouth. His little forehead puckered, and it looked like he was about to cry.
Mom interpreted his alarm and leaped from her chair. “Oh, Jimmy-John, you’re going to have so much fun with your mama at your new house. You’ll be near the zoo and-and you can go there and—”
“I already been to the zoo.”
“I know you have, sweetheart, but you only saw it in icky, cold winter,” Mom cajoled in the singsong tone that irked me no end. “Just wait until you see the zoo in summer. You’ll see lots of animals then.”
“Don’t wanna see any animals. Wanna have doughnuts—here. I wanna stay here. With you. And eat doughnuts.”
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