Rose's Story

by Thomas Kinkade

  Then Chris said. “R. L.?” He scratched his head. “Something’s very familiar about you.”

  Oh! She was dressed as a boy in his shirt and tie! That’s what he’d been staring at! Lizabeth was well aware of it and trying to rush him on his way. “So long, Chris. See you at home.”

  The other boy, Michael Potter, had been glaring at Rose all along. He looked at her so furiously that it was scary. What was that about? “So long,” he muttered and stalked away.

  But Chris said, “Wait a minute, Mike.” He turned back to Rose. “You’re from Cape Light?”

  Rose nodded. She blushed under his scrutiny.

  “I’ve never seen you before, have I?”

  Rose shook her head.

  “But something’s awfully familiar—can’t put my finger on it….”

  Rose shrugged. Not only was she wearing his shirt, she was sweating in it!

  “You’re a friend of my sister’s? Why haven’t I heard of you?”

  Rose shrugged again.

  “What’s the matter with you? Don’t you talk?” He turned to Lizabeth. “What’s the matter with him?”

  “He has awful laryngitis,” Lizabeth said. “Michael’s waiting for you, Chris! I’ll see you later!”

  They watched Christopher take his bicycle from the station rack. After a few words, Michael walked away around the corner.

  “Want to ride home with me?” Christopher called.

  “No!” Lizabeth said. “I’ll see you later!”

  “All right, but—” Christopher took another long look at Rose. “Something weird there…” he said as he rode away.

  This is too awful, Rose thought. The most interesting boy I’ve ever met and look at me! Kat’s face was red, too. She had never seen Kat so upset. What was going on?

  Amanda noticed. “Kat, what’s the matter?”

  “Oh, nothing, just that Michael saw me holding hands with R. L. and I can’t imagine what he thinks!”

  “Oh,” Rose said. “So that’s why he looked as if he wanted to punch me! He must like you a lot.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he did before he saw me with…If he did, that’s all ruined now, isn’t it? Well, I don’t care,” Kat said. For someone who didn’t care, Rose thought, she was taking it hard.

  Amanda and Lizabeth looked confused. “You only saw him that one time at the barn dance,” Lizabeth said, “for about two seconds, and you never talked with him, did you?”

  Kat cleared her throat. “When we picked apples at Potter’s Orchard last year—Mr. Potter is his uncle—Michael was there. I guess we talked a little when I went to get a ladder.”

  “You never said a word to us!” Lizabeth said.

  “Why did you keep it a secret from me?” Amanda asked. “I mean, if we’re truly best friends…”

  “Because it wasn’t important. I don’t care anything about Michael Potter! Not a bit!”

  “If we’d known you like him, we could have fixed it,” Lizabeth said. “We could have explained why you were holding hands with R. L.”

  Kat looked curious. “And why would that be?”

  “Well, to comfort him for…for…” Lizabeth frowned. “For his laryngitis!” she finished triumphantly.

  “What a great fix!” Kat laughed in spite of herself. “That’ll teach me to keep secrets from my best friends.”

  Kat’s secret was only a tiny one, Rose thought, but mine is huge. Trust is what friendship is all about. If she was afraid to invite Kat, Lizabeth, and Amanda to her home, what kind of friendship was that? She wanted Kat, Amanda, and Lizabeth to be her best friends forever and ever. Someday they were going to have to meet Momma….

  “Let’s go,” Amanda said. “I have to get dinner started.”

  “I can’t wait to get home and get out of these things,” Rose said.

  “You’ll have to come to the lighthouse and change into your normal clothes first,” Kat said.

  “No, I’m going straight home,” Rose said.

  “But if your mother sees you like that, you’ll be in big trouble,” Lizabeth said.

  Rose hesitated before she said, “No, I won’t.”

  “You won’t? My mother would be horrified,” Kat said.

  “Father would never let me out again,” Amanda said. “My mother’s not like that,” Rose said.

  “What is she like?” Amanda asked. “We don’t really know her.”

  “Don’t be silly, Rose,” Lizabeth said. “Anyone’s mother would faint if her daughter came home in knickers!”

  Rose took another deep breath. “Not mine.”

  She couldn’t deny Momma forever. She couldn’t keep lying and hiding and being so fearful. It didn’t feel good. If she could muster the courage to be R. L. and enter herself for the horse fair, she could do this. Rose drew herself together.

  “My mother is a bloomer girl.”

  sixteen

  “My mother is a bloomer girl. A suffragette.”

  There was a stunned silence.

  I need their help so badly at the horse fair, Rose thought, and if they turn from me now…What have I done?

  Kat was the first to finally speak. “How wonderful! I can’t wait to talk to her!”

  “She can’t be,” Lizabeth said. “I’ve seen her in church and never in bloomers.”

  “She doesn’t wear them all the time.” Rose swallowed hard. “Mostly for demonstrations and such.”

  Amanda frowned. “Cape Light won’t take kindly to bloomers or demonstrations.”

  “I know,” Rose said miserably.

  “It must be terrible for you,” Amanda said. “Your own mother!”

  “I can’t believe it,” Lizabeth said. “That blue suit she wore in church last Sunday had to be straight from Paris, France! She’s beautiful, and suffragettes look more like men than ladies, don’t they?”

  “No, they’re all kinds of women,” Rose said.

  “Mrs. Cornell, from the Pelican Book Shop, for instance,” Kat said. “She’s very feminine and attractive, but she’s for suffrage. She got into a debate with Ma about it.”

  “Was…was your mother very angry at her?” Rose asked.

  “No, I think they agreed to disagree…. Oh, now I get it!” Kat exclaimed. “Is that why you never invited us to your house?”

  Rose nodded.

  “I can understand that,” Lizabeth said. “I’d die of shame.”

  “I’d be proud,” Kat said.

  “Will you…will you still help me at the horse fair?” Rose asked.

  “Of course! Poor Rose,” Amanda said. “We’d never blame you for what your mother does. We like you, no matter what.”

  “I’m glad you trusted us enough to reveal the skeleton in your family closet,” Lizabeth said. “We’re still your friends.”

  Kat laughed. “It’s not a skeleton. It’s only about wanting to vote, for goodness sake! I’m glad you finally told us.”

  “I know that real friends have to trust each other,” Rose said. She was so relieved; it was easier than she’d imagined.

  Kat nodded. “I’m lots more comfortable without all the mystery.”

  “Come on,” Lizabeth said, “let’s get going.” She and Amanda went to the bike rack.

  “Why were you so afraid to tell us?” Kat asked. “What did you think would happen?”

  “In my old school, I lost all my friends.”

  “Just because of your mother?” Kat asked. “No one’s responsible for their parents’ behavior! Lots of them are peculiar, one way or another.”

  “My mother came home from a parade one afternoon. In bloomers and some girls from my school saw her.” And then Rose remembered the bad things she’d said about Abigail’s mother. If she had just quietly defended Momma and not attacked Abigail’s, then it might have been different. She’d never know for sure, but she couldn’t keep blaming only Momma.

  “That afternoon, when we were talking about Les Misérables and you got so upset…” Lizabeth and Amanda were still out
of earshot and Kat leaned close to Rose, her eyes gleaming. “I think I get that, too! I’m only guessing, but…Was your mother ever arrested in a suffragette demonstration?”

  “Something like that,” Rose admitted.

  “I think we’ll keep that to ourselves,” Kat whispered. “But your mother is wonderful. What spirit and adventure! I wish my mother could be exactly like her. Ma’s too old-fashioned. She wants everything to stay exactly the way it was in 1900!”

  “And I’ve been wishing that Momma was exactly like your mother!”

  Rose came home footsore and bedraggled.

  Momma was in the front hall. In one quick glance, she took in Rose’s outfit. “What in the world—Rose, what is this?” She started to laugh. “Is this your version of the bloomer girl look?”

  “No!” Rose said. “It’s not funny!”

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but you really have to explain this to me.” Momma led her to the sofa in the parlor. “Why are you hiding your hair? What were you doing?”

  Rose sank down and pulled off the newsboy cap as hairpins flew everywhere. It felt good to have hair tumbling over her shoulders again. She took off Todd’s shoes and socks—something she’d normally never do downstairs, but she couldn’t wait another second. “I had to dress as a boy to enter Star in an event.”

  “Oh, Rosie, look at your poor feet.” Momma massaged the ball of her right foot and Rose gave in to the comfort in her touch. “Tell me about it. What event?”

  In a torrent of words, everything that had happened poured out of Rose. “It makes me so mad! What does being a boy or a girl have to do with riding in the horse show?”

  “Absolutely nothing. Nor with voting, nor any number of unjust laws,” Momma said. “Here, give me your left foot. Look at those cramped little toes.”

  “I guess it really does matter whether women are equal citizens,” Rose said. “I can see that it makes a difference in everyday life.” That was a big concession from her.

  Momma gave Rose a big, pleased smile. “That’s what I’ve been fighting for.” She gently flexed Rose’s toes. “Any better now?”

  Rose nodded. “I’m not a fighter. I want to pass just for tomorrow, for Star’s sake, and then I never want to see knickers again! How can you stand wearing bloomers?”

  “They’re loose and very comfortable. Those knickers are too tight for you, and wool tweed at this time of year—”

  “They itch!”

  “I don’t see why you’d wear them again,” Momma said. “I have to, for tomorrow!” Didn’t Momma understand anything that Rose had told her? How important it was for Star?

  “Let me see that entry card,” Momma said.

  Rose handed over the yellow cardboard square.

  “Look!” Momma’s smile was triumphant. “It states the horse’s gender—gelding—but nothing about yours. Nothing here says you’re a boy. Not one word!”

  “But it’s understood,” Rose said.

  “But there’s nothing actually written here to keep you from riding as yourself! As a girl. It’s a grand opportunity to make a strong point for everyone to see!”

  “I don’t want to make a point.” Rose pulled her feet back and tucked them under her. “That’s the last thing I’d want to do! I don’t want anyone to notice me. I’m doing this only for Star!”

  “I suppose you’re not ready,” Momma said. “I’d hoped you—”

  “You only think about the suffragist movement,” Rose said. “You don’t consider me at all!”

  “Do you truly believe that?” Momma studied her face.

  “You’d let me be disgraced just to make your point.”

  “Rose, why do you think I’m a suffragist? Why do you think I care so deeply?”

  “I don’t know. Because you like the attention or—”

  “Because I have a daughter! Oh, Rosie, it’s for you. I thought you knew that. Rosie, I’m all grown up and lucky to be married to a wonderful man who gives me as much freedom as he can. It’s your life that I’m thinking of! I want you to have choices and rights—whether it’s riding in a horse show or electing your representative or legally owning property. It’s all for you!”

  Rose was as thunderstruck as if a bolt of lightning had just shaken the parlor. She stared speechlessly at Momma.

  “I’m sorry, Momma,” she finally said. “I didn’t understand.” I never really understood how much courage it takes to go against popular opinion, Rose thought. North Menasha gave me just a tiny taste. No wonder Poppa and Kat admire Momma’s spirit! “I’m sorry. I’m not that brave. I can’t take a stand tomorrow.”

  “Trying to pass as a boy takes nerve enough,” Momma said. “I’m very proud of you, Rosie.”

  For a moment, Rose was lulled into leaning against Momma but then she quickly sat up. “Proud?” She felt terribly sad. “But I’m still your huge disappointment.”

  “What do you mean?” Momma asked.

  “‘You are a huge disappointment to me.’ Your words, Momma.” The weeks of bottled-up hurt came spilling out. “I know I’m plain, with the Forbes nose, and too tall and thin. Don’t you think that disappoints me, too? But for my own mother to say that!”

  “Oh Rosie! How could you think—” Momma shook her head. “I was hugely disappointed that a daughter of mine didn’t think it was important for me to stand up for what’s right. I was hugely disappointed that embarrassment would make you crumble and say the vote didn’t matter.” Momma passed her hand over her forehead. “Maybe I was harsh, but it isn’t easy to know that your own daughter wants to hide you away.”

  “Is that really all you meant?” Rose asked in a small voice.

  “Of course. And you’re not plain! Where did you ever get that idea?”

  “I’ve always known. When I was very little, two of our relatives—I don’t remember which ones—were looking down at me, tsk-tsking, ‘Too bad the child has the Forbes nose and the mother’s such a great beauty.’”

  “As if a small child can’t hear or feel anything!” Momma exploded. “You never had a cute, baby-doll look. Your beauty is very individual, interesting, and strong. You have to carry it with confidence. And you’ll grow into your body. You’re like a young colt who starts off all legs. Rosie, you’re lovely!”

  “Am I? Mrs. Merchant is always telling Lizabeth how pretty she is. You never say anything like that.”

  “I suppose I don’t very often.” Momma sighed. “Physical beauty is a gift to be grateful for, I won’t deny that. But you know, I’ve spent most of my life trying to get people to see beyond that and take me seriously. Your father was one of the few men who didn’t treat me as a piece of decoration. The things that matter most to me are brains and character. I’d never think to praise ‘prettiness.’” Momma put her arms around Rose. “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I never meant to.”

  Rose snuggled into the hug. “I’m sorry, too, Momma.”

  Momma smiled. “And now you’re standing up for what’s right, in your own way.” She smoothed back Rose’s hair. “I’ll go to the horse show in the carriage with Poppa and Norma. Are you coming with us?”

  “Oh, no, I have to be there early, to check the course. Please don’t say anything to anyone.”

  “Don’t you want to tell Uncle Ned and Aunt Norma?”

  “No, I’ll surprise them. No one should know ahead of time that I’m entering as a boy. Please don’t tell, Momma.”

  Momma nodded. “All right, I won’t. When the time comes, we’ll be there cheering you on.”

  Momma knew very little about horses or jumping. But if Uncle Ned and Aunt Norma knew what she was planning, they were sure to stop her. Rose knew they’d think Midnight Star was still too skittish to be trusted over jumps. They’d say it was too dangerous.

  Rose wasn’t worried about danger! She had too many other worries. She had to get to North Menasha early and get Star and herself ready. Ugh, boy-clothes. She had to pass at the event. She had to do well!

  seventeenr />
  Rose was at the stables before dawn on Saturday. She mucked out Star’s stall and layered the bedding of straw and wood shavings with a catch in her throat. By the end of the day, there might be another horse in this stall. She leaned against the wall and took in Star’s contented munching, his occasional nickering in her direction, and the smell of horse and fresh hay. Maybe for the last time. She didn’t think she could bear to come to the stables again if Star wasn’t here.

  She’d found Uncle Ned at one of the other barns earlier that morning. He had planned to ride Star to North Menasha in time to take a look at the horses for sale before the show events began. Rose had convinced him to let her ride along with him on Star. “Our last ride,” she’d pleaded and he agreed. He’d ride Monogram. They would arrive at eleven, only leaving an hour for Rose to walk the course and change her clothes, but it would have to do. If she begged Uncle Ned to leave much earlier, he’d wonder why.

  Rose gently worked out the tangles in Star’s mane. Star looked at her with sweet, loving eyes. Rose held back the tears behind her own. She plaited his tail. She put grooming supplies and a small bottle of oil in a bag along with Todd’s knickers and Christopher’s tie; she’d do last-minute brushing at the horse fair to remove the dust of the road. “Someone has to see your beauty and your talent and your heart. Someone has to love you.”

  Now there was nothing left to do but wait for Uncle Ned. She put her arms around Star and rested her face against his warm hide. She half-closed her eyes. “Remember I loved you, Star,” she whispered. “Remember I did my best.” Deep in her heart of hearts, she wouldn’t say good-bye. Just maybe, if they jumped the course brilliantly, maybe Uncle Ned would keep him…. Star is good enough, but I’m not an expert, she thought in despair. But I’m all he has.

  Rose was as ready as she could be without alerting Uncle Ned. She wore Christopher’s shirt tucked into her divided riding skirt. She was going to be comfortable on the long ride, no matter what anyone thought! Her riding boots replaced Todd’s shoes—thank goodness, with room for her toes! The hard riding hat was on her head. At the last minute, she’d make the quick change into knickers and Lizabeth would pin up her hair. Kat, Amanda, and Lizabeth would be there to help her.