Cavanaugh

by Jody Kaye

  “So what about the other thing?” His tone denoted that she was ashamed of him.

  Rose wiped her hands on her backside. For once, she’d actually practiced what she wanted to say to Ross, but found herself lacking when it was time to recite her speech. How on earth could she ask her husband to be her boyfriend? What were the right words to say when admitting that she’d never seen him as anything smaller than a man she was supposed to find herself with? Ross never gave Rose reason to think that he wanted anything she had to offer.

  But maybe if she began with a simple sentence to gauge his reaction? Of course, she’d mentally prepared to stoically take in his relief that this charade wasn’t as long-lived as either first assumed. She’d cry in private if he refused her, which was likely better than falling into a puddle. This was an arrangement. He’d be within his rights to brush her off, saying they’d been playing house too long already and that she’d become daft.

  “Hey, are you still breathing?” Ross tipped up her chin. Rose relaxed into his soft stare.

  “I’m going to tell Eric we’re married.”

  Her lungs softened and a peculiar smile twitched on his lips. There was a spilt-second when it felt like Ross was about to kiss her and she hoped that it wouldn’t be similar to their wedding day.

  Ross patted the cold, empty spot on the bed next to him and huffed out a breath that didn’t have him smiling.

  They’d been married for months now. Each night was the same. He’d come home to Rose standing in his apartment’s tiny kitchen prepping their dinner. She’d smile at him with a big old “Hey!” that made Ross feel like she seemed truly excited to see him.

  Sometimes she’d wipe her hands on a dishtowel, lead him to the table and show him whatever report she’d been busy with all day. Her brown eye’s blazing bright and excited. He’d grab clean clothes from his bins and go shower, changing into something more comfortable while she went back to cooking.

  When he let the steam out of the bathroom, the bookkeeping had vanished and in its place Rose set out their full plates on pretty placemats, complete with napkins and silverware. They’d compare notes about their days and the progress made at sites. She’d helped him secure renovations using contacts she’d made at a women’s meeting sometime this fall. Not all were as big as the job he’d done at Kingsbrier, but there were enough estimates generated that he’d have contracts throughout the scorching summer and when the ground iced up next winter.

  After dinner, she’d run to check on Lavender one last time while Ross cleared. She was always back to dry the dishes and set the kitchen to rights. They’d recently taken to curling up on the brass bed. If the day had been arduous, he’d snooze. Ross often woke to find Rose flipping through his favorite book, her brow furrowed as if she was thinking hard about what the characters motivations were. Often she’d go from the end to scanning pages back at the beginning. She took his teasing with grace, agreeing that she liked to rewind back to the best parts of the story.

  At some point, they’d fall asleep. He’d curl his body around hers, offering protection from the night terrors that had driven Rose to sleep in his bed in the first place. Ross often woke past midnight with Rose tucked close, her palm covering his heart. He’d brush Rose’s hair back, and kiss her forehead, wishing more than anything that when the sun came up that she’d still be lying next to him.

  The dawn always broke to him alone in the bed he hoped to share with his wife.

  Her awful dreams became less frequent. Ross took that as a good sign that Rose might be ready soon. He refused to push the issue, though. Even if he got the nerve to bring up living together, he wanted her to come to him and he told himself that it wasn’t a fallacy that it could happen if he continued to be patient with Rose.

  She deserved time to heal and day-by-day she’d been doing that. She’d broken her silence, letting it slip on a dark and stormy black night when she’d woken in a fit that her horrific dreams were the continuation of her attack, when she couldn’t get away and that bastard raped her. Ross supposed he should take consolation in the fact that it hadn’t happened and, while for split second he did feel a weight lifted, the other man’s inactions that night didn’t lessen the terror Rose went through.

  Ross sat up in bed. His feet hit the floor and he automatically padded to the bathroom carrying a new pair of jeans and a flannel. When he finished getting ready, he started the coffee pot so that it had time perk when they were finishing up with the morning's chores in the stable—another habit that became part of their day together. He liked seeing Rose first thing. It made him forget she’d scurried away while he was sleeping.

  He straightened the bed and heard a soft plink. Grandy’s ring had dislodged itself from between he mattress and box spring. He inspected the overlarge stone before sliding it back for safe-keeping and thought, not for the first time, about how he should have been the one to give Rose a ring. Nothing ostentatious. He’d learned Rose wasn’t that type of girl and the humor of it stopped his grin from fading.

  Sure, she liked fancying their apartments up with pretty finds, but they weren’t gaudy or expensive and whatever touches that Rose added made him feel like this was their home. Ross sat back on the brass bed and began tying his work boots.

  “Don’t you think this is getting old, Cavanaugh?” Ross heard the envelope skim across his floor, stopping at the counter he’d installed.

  “I’ll be out in a jiff,” he called, enlivened by her voice.

  Then Ross let out a loud, long sigh and closed his eyes, steeling himself. They’d discussed two things the previous evening: Business and what he hoped would bring them both pleasure. Rose had hesitated answering the latter. She hadn’t made up her mind about what to do when Eric reacted to them appearing in public as a couple. He knew better than to push her last night.

  He saw Rose dancing with the shovel, caught up in a better thought, so Ross stomped his feet entering the stable to let her know he was there. “Did you do any more thinking about our dilemma?”

  He had. His suggestion to dance was sloppy and sentimental. They’d only done it once before, the night they met, so it made sense for them to end the way it began.

  It obviously hadn’t affected Rose the same way. Even when they’d gotten home he continued to wonder if that was the one and only time he’d be with his wife where everyone she’d grown up around could see them. Meanwhile, Rose was now yammering on about his idea to purchase more land. He let her, while tossing straw on the bare spots where she’d shoveled, because Rose refused to look at him.

  “So what about the other thing? Today. It’s going to prove difficult to hide from your father that I’m your date.”

  He swallowed hard. If she came up with an excuse; said they needed to keep their distance at the wedding or that he should refrain from going, Ross wasn’t sure he had the strength to convince her otherwise. This was the nail in their coffin and he’d accept the feelings he had for Rose weren’t mutual. After all, she was young with her whole life in front of her. He’d hate to be the one who shackled her down and broke her spirit.

  Rose wiped her hands on her backside. It reminded him of the way she’d wiggle close to him and he’d have to move his hips away from hers. But then, she slowed as if she was in suspended animation and the curious way she bit her lower lip, so unsure of herself, made Ross acutely aware that something was wrong.

  “Hey, are you still breathing?” he tipped her chin up, her eyes softened almost smiling back at him.

  “I’m going to tell Eric we’re married,” she said, inhaling as Ross’ lip quirked up.

  This was a start. She’d tell Eric the truth and with everything out in the open Ross had a chance to show this woman what she meant to him. He’d apologize to Mr. Kingsbrier and ask for her hand proper. And if her father said “no,” it wouldn’t make a hill of beans different because Ross and Rose were already married. They’d make this work because they already were.

  When Ross came home from no
w on, she’d greet him with her “Hey” and Ross would grab his wife by the waist, pull her close and kiss her to make sure that Rose understood that she made him feel like a million bucks.

  Eric was an early riser. Those first few seconds as he regained consciousness were the moments he loved most about the day. That was the time that his brain didn’t yet register that Joy was gone. As synapses began firing, he’d put the years behind him and trod through his regiment more to keep moving than with determination. That didn’t take over until later when he used his anger and grief as fuel.

  He’d spoken to George last night, begging his pardon for not attending the rehearsal dinner. Eric’s flight touched down late and he had work to do. He had enjoyed the discussion with his old friend. George was so proud of Lily Anne and he had every right to be. The girl was amusing and sincere, like his Joy. George’s daughter turned into the woman that Rose should’ve become.

  Eric pondered that as sleep overtook him and before his thoughts turned sour this morning his senses filled with a rare new hope that Rose got caught up in the festivities today. He’d like to see her happy, taken care of by the right man. Often it was worry she’d never grow out of the antics that forced his iron fist.

  It was then that Eric recognized how the weeks blurred. He hadn’t seen his daughter since she’d taken ill. Of course, he knew that Rose had been in and out of the mansion. Benita informed him of as much.

  Eric didn’t miss Rose during that time. She’d grown and gone off to college. There was the year she and Lily Anne were supposed to spend at Kingsbrier and decided instead to fritter about overseas. Father and daughter didn’t communicate much and if they did the conversations were corse and curt.

  Lathan Edward’s father mentioned that the boy enjoyed Rose’s company. Eric wondered if the same could be said for Rose and if she allowed him to take her out again. She hadn’t been rude or sulked during dinner or become combative afterward. This was a good sign that a reintroduction might be in order. Eric may see his daughter down the aisle yet.

  A genuine smile crossed his lips as he opened the shades to the new day.

  Dressing casually, Eric patted the shoulder of his tuxedo coat as he passed the valet stand.

  He sought Rose, finding both rooms empty. His notion that her personality had possibly changed soured until he remembered that Benita said she spent time tarrying about the stable. That perked him back up. It seemed she was taking responsibility seriously with her new horse.

  It was an encouraging sign that Eric didn’t trust fully. There was a schedule to keep for a wedding and he didn’t want to offer his apologies to the Andrews’ and Newhouses’ for her lateness should she get caught up in her own little world. A parent’s guiding hand was best today. For what did Rose know of marriage besides how to avoid it?

  On the way out of the house, he admired the large door envisioning himself walking Rose down the granite steps in a long white gown and passing her into a limousine. His convertible’s top was up, but the seats slicked his back and trousers with wintery overnight dampness.

  Eric drove down the county road verging to the right as the turn for the stable came up. The building was quite nice. In the dim light, he made out the natural color, still unfaded by the sun and without a speck of mildew on the roof. A post and beam fence was being constructed behind it.

  The car entered the barnyard, its headlights breaking the dawn, beaming into the open stable and highlighting the closeness of a young couple.

  “You’re married. To this man?”

  Eric stood at the threshold of the stable. He’d thought Rose had moved on from her imprudent infatuation with Cavanaugh and was making a reasonable attempt at showing dignity instead of dragging their good name through the mud. Enraged, he didn’t give Rose time to explain.

  “What kind of tomfoolery have you gotten yourself into this time? Do you not understand the smudge on your reputation that this will cause, or did you do this intentionally to draw unwarranted attention to yourself.” His voice raised and his words rushed out. “And I’m sure you’ve done your husbandly duty to be supportive of this escapade.” Eric sneered.

  “You know nothing of our relationship.” Ross snapped back. He’d been there for this man’s daughter every night, never asking for more.

  “What’s it going to take to take to end this charade? Ten? Twenty? Name your price, Cavanaugh.”

  “Christ! What is it with you people and money!” Ross roared.

  “No? You’re choosing to play me for a fool? Insist that my daughter’s antics have you befuddled? The next thing you’ll say is that you love her,” Eric scoffed at the notion.

  “You know nothing of your daughter. Rose carries her own load. For months she’s been keeping Cavanaugh’s books, helping me invest and showing me how to grow the construction company. Meanwhile, she’s learned all there is to know about caring for Lavender, her horse, and maintaining the apartments and cooking us dinner,” She’s also filling an empty place in my life I hadn’t realized existed, he added to himself. “You underestimate everything about this woman. She’s just not a pretty face with an empty head. Her restlessness has far more to do with needing more in her life rather than being the irresponsible child that you consider her to be.”

  “Stop! The two of you just STOP! Do you not see me? I’m right here. I can speak for myself, Daddy. Ross was who I wanted to marry. No one else.”

  “As if you can be trusted to know your mind!”

  “Why are you so hateful towards me?”

  “I came here to find you.” Distraught, Eric motioned to the new building’s interior and the animal that he’d assumed his daughter was here sensibly caring for. “To escort you to the wedding, in the hopes that you’d find…” His voice trailed. She’d been deceiving him and married without his knowledge or his blessing. He’d never walk her down the aisle. He’d never give her away.

  “Someone to take me off of your hands,” Rose insisted.

  Her words resonated, but he still wanted to believe his own truth. “Someone that could care for you.”

  “I did that myself, Eric. You taught me independence beginning the day my mother died. I hope she’s ashamed of you for it too.”

  At her words, Eric looked as if he was about to break.

  “You’ll be attending with Cavanaugh then.”

  “I will.”

  Her father got into his car and left.

  “Did you get what you wanted, Rose?”

  Ross didn’t miss that Rose never told Eric she loved him. Her plan was to reveal their secret in time for the wedding to make sure that it had the biggest impact. Ross should’ve seen it all along. His heart never believed she was this conniving. How could he have been so wrong to blindly forgive her transgressions and put himself on the line? It didn’t make him a Christian. It made him a fool.

  “Yes,” she lied. A crushing sensation overtook her chest. She’d begun to build a life with Ross. From the way hateful way he looked at her, now it was over. And it had happened the way she’d told Ross it would, with Rose standing up to her father.

  “Glad one of us did.”

  Ross turned on his heel. The coffee pot was on. He’d drink the wretched brew, swirling the swill leftover from of their counterfeit life together while he packed his belongings. He couldn’t do it anymore. Rose still had oats to sew. She wasn’t ready to grow up and Ross realized that he’d fallen into her trap because he was ready to grow old with someone.

  “Wait, Ross! Where are you going?”

  “I’ll see you later… At the wedding.”

  “But—”

  “It’s over Rose. Your father knows so we can go in our separate directions.” He batted a hand behind him so that she wouldn’t follow. Once he’d come through on his word to Rodger, Ross was leaving.

  As the beautician curled Lily Anne’s hair, Rose put on a charming smile but kept a guarded distance from the other women in the wedding party. Later, she applied her own makeup, th
ickening her lashes with her favorite mascara. Finishing up, a club server was passing through the room and Rose snagged a glass of champagne from the silver tray to stave off her anxiety and remorse. She hadn’t been near the county club since that fateful night.

  She didn’t want to be at this wedding and at the same time she didn’t want to miss it. At least playing matchmaker between her friends had turned out well. For a split second, Rose thought about making a career of it, but the idea crumbled quickly. Seeing those couples happy while she was miserable would make her even more wretched to deal with. There wasn’t enough sugar in the world to fix that kind of demon.

  In the ladies lounge, she slipped on her gown and sipped more champagne. She noted in the mirror how pale her face was and she pinched her cheeks. They reddened and she slapped them a few more times, hoping it would snap her out of the melancholy mood. The way she was acting wasn’t sensible. She’d made a deal with Ross fair and square. It wasn’t her fault he didn’t want her.

  Her eyes brimmed with tears when she intentionally smacked herself too hard. She’d wanted to be good enough for that man. She wanted yesterday back, and the day before when she was happily married and didn’t understand heartbreak or the foreboding of learning to live without Ross.

  She sniffed and blinked several times. Then she returned to the light-filled reading room where Mrs. Newhouse was zipping up Lily Anne’s gown. Her auntie was about to burst with pride when Lil spun around.

  “You’re beautiful, Lil, like a princess.”

  Her white silk gown had a fitted bodice that flared gently at her hips with a full A-line skirt. The long sleeves and bateau neckline were covered in lace that extended down to the skirt and the seamstress had embroidered them with tiny pearls that cast rays in the bright light.