“Probably compared to some. On the scale of one to ten, with ten being a monk in the desert and one being an atheist, I’m probably an eight.”
“Eight? I guess I’m somewhere around a three. Depending on the day. I’m a six at Christmas.” Her parents had been Sunday church goers but it didn’t really mean anything other than social connections. Her sister’s family went on Easter and Christmas. Rose loved to dress her nephews in matching holiday outfits and take pictures with the crèche, or while Easter egg hunting. It wasn’t really part of their daily life. Church was for holidays and weddings.
Rose was starting to think Blue was a lot more religious than she’d first realized. She glanced at him and was relieved when he seemed to have accepted her statement without comment. The only person she’d ever talked to about religion was a bossy girl in her freshman dorm. The girl interrogated everyone she met, demanding to know whether they had accepted Jesus as their savior. Rose had said yes, but she wasn’t even sure what the girl had meant. She’d simply felt trapped and uncomfortable. Luckily, as soon as the girl thought Rose was saved, she went looking for another target.
Rose wasn’t sure why it didn’t bother her when Blue talked about praying. Maybe it was because he didn’t sound apologetic or hesitant. He was talking about himself, that was all.
“Here!” He pointed to several beautiful leather-bound books. “That’s a lot of walking.”
Shifting Emily Jane a little, she pulled one from the shelf. It was heavier than it looked and Blue held out a hand under it. “A cooperative effort. This must be what new parents do all the time.”
He stood next to her and peered at the pages as she carefully turned them one by one. “I can’t even remember why we’re doing this. Or the title. So late?”
“Late, Late, So Late. It was something about the virgins in the Bible story. You know, the ones with the lamps they didn’t keep filled with oil.”
“Hey, this one says Human Experience, the Foolish Virgins.” He looked up, amazed. “We found it!”
“I’d give you a high five but I’m all out of free hands.” She grinned.
“Read it aloud,” he said. “Please.”
She smiled at the ‘please’. “Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill! Late, late, so late! but we can enter still. Too late, too late! Ye cannot enter now.” The smile faded from her lips and she felt an old chill touch her heart.
Blue stood there, listening without comment. She forced herself to keep reading, until almost at the end, Rose shivered and looked down to see goosebumps on her skin.
“You want me to finish it?” Blue asked, and turned the book around. His hand was large enough it balanced perfectly. “Have we not heard the bridegroom is so sweet? O, let us in, though late, to kiss his feet! No, no, too late! Ye cannot enter now.”
She felt ice cold, even with Emily Jane in her arms, as if all the warmth in the room had evaporated.
“You could have stopped all of this from happening. You helped destroy my family and no apology from you will ever bring them back. I will never forgive you. Never.”
“So, I’d say the article was right. Definitely a tread to this one.” He was smiling at her, but there was a question in his eyes. “What do you think?”
Rose shook her head, trying to dislodge thoughts of choices that couldn’t be unmade, of doors that close and were never reopened. “I don’t know. It’s about going to hell, right?”
“What? I… don’t think so. I thought it was about the second coming of Christ.”
“Oh.” She didn’t feel any better. She hugged Emily Jane closer to her and tried to think of something cheerful.
Elizabeth gave a sharp cry and Blue moved her to his shoulder. “Have you read Crossing the Bar? That’s my favorite. Here, I’ll read it this time.”
She held out a hand under the book and he paged to the back. “He asked that they always put it at the end of the collections because he wrote it as a sort of elegy.”
“I didn’t know that,” Rose said. “How they put it at the end, I mean.”
He cleared his throat and looked around. “Should we sit down?”
“No, I think we’re okay. It’s short and the babies are happy for the moment.” She nodded at him and he began.
“Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.”
The bitter cold she’d felt inside as she read the first poem started to recede and she repeated the words, “From out the boundless deep.”
“Sort of the opposite of the other one, isn’t it? This is all about going home, back from where you came from.” He sounded thoughtful.
“I like the idea of no matter how far we’ve gone, maybe we’ll get a chance to return. And not in a violent sort of way, but soft and easy, like a strong tide.”
“And seeing the Pilot face to face,” Blue said. “I would like that.”
Face to face. For the first time, Rose felt something other than dread when she thought of facing God. Maybe it was because that Tennyson felt there was a chance the passage from life could be a good one, without any sadness or struggle. If there was some guarantee, some way to make sure… Rose felt yearning rise up in her and tears stung her eyes. She did want to see her Pilot face to face. She’d always wanted that. But after the past four years, she’d figured that wasn’t going to work out well for her.
“So, this is about heaven,” she said, mostly to herself. In the first twenty four years of her life, she’d probably thought about heaven a total of ten times. But since the accident, Rose had wondered, more times than she could count, how it would feel to be shut out for what she’d done. Alone.
“Do you believe in heaven?”
Again, Rose didn’t feel threatened by his question. He wasn’t trying to change her mind. he simply wanted to know what she thought. “Yes. And… all of it.”
“So, definitely not an atheist.” He seemed almost surprised, and she wondered what kind of impression she’d given him. She hadn’t gone to church in Natchitoches and here that probably meant someone was a straight up atheist.
“Nope, but some days I wished I was.” She meant for it to come off as a joke but there was a tiredness behind her words that sounded flat to her own ears.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. “Why?”
The evening was warm and baby Emily Jane was snuggled in her arms, but she felt the familiar chill return. She didn’t know how to answer his question. The idea of seeing the Pilot of the poem face to face was too much to bear some days. She had a lot to explain, and no guarantee of Him understanding. “Because forgiveness and punishment are two separate things.”
“I don’t quite understand.”
She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. This wasn’t the discussion she wanted to have with him. “A criminal found guilty by a judge can be forgiven but there’s still the question of justice. There has to be accountability, even if there can’t ever be total restitution to the victims for the crime.”
“I suppose I understand what you’re getting at.” Glancing over at her again, he said, “You sound like a lawyer.”
Rose turned away, furious with herself for letting the conversation go too far. Either she needed to tell him her whole story or she needed to stop talking so much. And she was really not interested in having one more person walk through the disaste
r that was her personal life.
When she didn’t speak, he went on, his voice quiet. “I understand where you’re going with it, but what about Paul?”
She frowned at him, thinking he meant Alice’s husband.
“Saul,” he clarified. “He was persecuting Christians right and left, giving the orders to have them executed. That was his job. Then he converted and everything changed. I don’t think he was kept out of heaven.”
She had blood on her hands, just as much as Paul did. Shame flooded her and she felt her face go hot. “Sometimes you get one chance to get it right, and fail. Paul had lots of chances to make it right with other Christians. In the real world, sometimes it’s too late.” She didn’t know why she was arguing the point except that her pain was wrapped in anger and she wanted to somehow prove Blue wrong.
“I don’t think it’s too late until you’re dead,” he said.
“And you think it’s enough to just say you believe in God and that you’re sorry.” It wasn’t a question. She almost rolled her eyes. If only he knew how well the mother of those three little children had received her apology statement. The woman had asked the judge for the death penalty. That’s how much saying sorry had worked.
Blue looked at her, confused. “Well, yes.”
“And no punishment. There’s always punishment,” she said. “You commit a crime, you pay the price.”
“Are you talking about God or man? Because you’re right, there are legal consequences.” Elizabeth whimpered and he shifted her back into the crook of one elbow, swaying softly. “But if you’re talking about God, that’s what the crucifixion was all about, right?”
Rose opened her mouth to rebut his argument and realized Blue was right. She’d forgotten all about that part of the puzzle. Or maybe she’d never really understood it to begin with. There was church and crosses and Christmas and Easter. She vaguely remembered some verse memorized in childhood about Jesus atoning for the sins of the world but she hadn’t really understood what how it all fit together.
It wasn’t just atonement, it was an innocent taking on someone else’s punishment. She’d never had anyone do that for her. Her whole body went cold as she thought of that morning four years ago. There had been the phone call from a friend asking if she’d seen the news, then her own frantic call to Richard. She’d known him so well, loved him so much. But she hadn’t seen what came next, not even after the long silence on the other end of the line.
She never would have expected Richard to take the fall for her but he could have stood by her, given her the best defense available. She was a brilliant defense attorney but Richard was better. That morning she’d called the head of the firm in a panic, then another partner, and finally a friend who’d been at the party. No answer. And then she’d tried Richard again. It went to voice mail. Again and again, no answer. Hours later, she finally realized she wasn’t simply facing possible charges, but she was facing them all alone.
Rose imagined what it would have felt like if things had been different, if Richard had offered to stand in her place, to take the punishment she knew was coming. People would have denied knowing him. They would have pretended they hadn’t been friends just days before. The outrage, disdain, fury and ridicule would have landed on him, not her. He would have stood there in court and witnessed the destruction she’d caused, and he would have borne the hatred of those parents, not her. And then he would have lost everything, gone to jail, and lived as an outcast forever while she went on with her successful career. The idea of that kind of sacrifice for her, the guilty one, made her heart ache with something she couldn’t define. Oh, Richard. She would have loved him until the day she died.
Blue was watching her, his expression a mix of tenderness and worry. She turned toward the shelf, blinking back tears, forcing her emotions back to that dark place. She knew she should say something, but there was a certainty inside of her that if she opened her mouth, if she spoke one word about the pain inside, the whole truth would spill out, like slop from a scrap bucket.
As much as she liked him and as many times he’d given her the warmth of his friendship, she still couldn’t be honest. It was better to let the past stay in the past.
“We should go check on them in the kitchen. Maybe they’re eating pie without us,” she said, forcing a cheerful tone and hating the quiver in her voice.
She turned and headed through the living room, carefully walking around Aurora’s sleeping figure. The little girl had moved one arm and her hand was resting against her chest. It rose and fell with every breath, in constant, perfect rhythm. A flood of bittersweet gratitude filled her. Even if she didn’t get her own happy ending, she was still allowed to be near this beautiful child and her baby sisters. Their sweet innocence was a gift and a comfort. It was more than she expected, and she resolved to be grateful for every minute she had with them.
Chapter Eleven
“When it comes to the past, everyone writes fiction.”
― Stephen King
Rose sat up in bed, struggling to catch her breath. The pale light of dawn shone at the corners of the window shade.
Just a dream.
She flopped back, her heart still pounding in her chest. It had been so real. Blue wrapping his arms around her, feeling warm and solid, laughing into her hair. She’d buried her face in his shirt and the dream Blue smelled just like the real Blue. His voice had rumbled against her ear and she’d smiled against his chest. He’d been telling her some story about Aurora cooking a cake in the play kitchen, and pretending to add diapers and rocks. It was the same story he’d told during dinner last night at Alice and Paul’s house.
In the dream, Rose had been so happy. So absolutely, perfectly happy.
Then Dream Rose had looked up and Blue’s face changed. His dark hair lightened to blond, his dark eyes turned gray, a scar on his eyebrow had appeared, his laughing mouth had turned serious and started to speak in Richard’s voice. I just don’t love you anymore.
A wave of nausea rolled over her and Rose decided she couldn’t stay in bed any longer. Saturday morning was for lounging around, but an early morning trip to the little bakery down the street sounded better than wallowing in the residue of that nightmare. She struggled out from under her light quilt and padded toward the bathroom. Blue was not Richard, and even if he told her that he didn’t love her, it was a fact she already knew. It wouldn’t be a surprise. The words wouldn’t hurt at all.
She splashed cold water on her face, rubbed it dry with a towel and raised her eyes to the mirror. She looked pale and scared.
She was safe, repeating it to herself over and over. Blue was her friend. No one could hurt her now. The worst that could happen had already happened.
***
Sunshine Bakery was hopping but that was probably normal for a Saturday morning in mid-May. Inhaling deeply and taking a moment to glance around, Rose didn’t know whether the retro fifties décor or the scent of fresh beignets was more attractive. It was like a bakery out of a movie set and definitely a business worthy of the town where Steel Magnolias was filmed. Charming didn’t even begin to describe the allure of Sunshine Bakery.
Almost every little table was filled and Rose tucked her book under her elbow. She would get her mocha to go and find a seat by the river. It was nearly eighty degrees, but maybe some time in the sun might help her shake the residual shadows of her nightmare.
She approached the counter and glanced into the kitchen. Music was coming from a small radio on a long metal counter and Rose could see an elderly woman frosting trays filled with doughnuts. A dark-haired woman about her own age walked through the little swinging gate to the register and greeted her with a smile. Her bright yellow apron was tidy, but there was a smudge of flour on one shoulder.
“Hiya, how can I help you today?”
“I’d like a mocha to go, please.” She scanned the long bakery case, her mouth already watering at the sight of the brightly lit rows of sweet rice fritters, beignets, dou
ghnuts, and fancy cupcakes. “And a beignet,” she said, giving in and mentally adjusting her budget for the week. She was determined to eradicate her debt as quickly as possible but even with the free apartment her law school loans were going to take most of her pay.
The counter girl passed the order to a waitress near the espresso machine, then said, “I’m not trying to be nosy, but are you Alice and Paul’s new nanny?”
Rose blinked in surprise. “It’s the hair, isn’t it? I’m probably famous already for my crazy hair. It’s just this humidity―”
“No, no. I’ve been out of town for a few weeks so I missed the first round of introductions.” She let out a laugh. “Nobody said anything about your hair. I figured it out from the book, actually.”
“My…” Rose took it out and examined it. “And how did you deduce all that from the new Dean Koontz novel?” Maybe nobody in Natchitoches read thrillers.
“Odd little fact about this place,” the woman said, leaning closer and speaking in a stage whisper. “When we gossip about the new people, we always talk about what they like to read.”
“Really?” She didn’t know whether this woman was pulling her leg or not.
“Really. Oh, and breakfast is on me.” She held out a hand. “I’m Roxie Hardy. You’re living in my old apartment.”
Rose introduced herself, feeling a little silly, since surely Roxie already knew her name if she knew where Rose lived and what she liked to read. She glanced behind her and seeing that no one waiting, asked, “I was wondering if you could answer a question about the place.”
“Sure, anything,” Roxie said.
“Who was living next door to you when you lived there?”
“Andy McBride. We’re getting married in August.”
She felt a prickle of irritation at not being able to prove Alice’s theory wrong. She couldn’t help giving Roxie another look. She hadn’t met Andy yet but it was a little strange to think of a bakery assistant and the co-owner of a multi-million dollar tech company.
Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series Page 108
