The kitchen quieted when one by one our guests noticed the new arrival. Lily handed Rosie a small wrapped box and said, “I don’t want to interrupt your party. I just wanted to drop off this gift.”
“This isn’t the party,” Rosie laughed. “This is the clean-up! I thank you for coming, but you should be giving this to Becky.”
I unwrapped the gift, a silver rattle with Georgia’s name engraved on it, and thanked her for her kindness. A hush dropped over the kitchen again, until Pete suggested we call it a night.
“Pete, thank you so much for the music today,” I said. “Everyone was tapping their toes.”
“You can’t have a party without music,” he answered. “I plan to have plenty of music at my Thanksgiving celebration. I hope your family will join us. It won’t be much of a celebration without you, Rosie, and little Georgia Rose.”
I was too busy swimming in the words “your family” to answer. Rosie didn’t waste a minute though. “Of course we’ll come. Thank you for inviting us.”
Pete turned to Lily and said, “Of course, Miss Lily, you’re welcome too.”
Lily nodded, but said nothing. The crowd started moving toward the kitchen door. Dottie paused and hugged Rosie, and then she did an amazing thing. She reached out and hugged me—a real hug, not one of those polite hugs you see on television. “Thanks for letting me be a part of things today,” she said.
When the last guest had left the yard, I left Rosie alone with Lily. Baby Girl was tuckered out from her big day, so I got her ready for bed and put her in her crib. Lily followed Rosie into our bedroom and watched as Rosie gave Baby Girl a kiss good night. For a moment, I thought Lily was going to do the same, but instead she reached into the crib and gently stroked Baby Girl’s hair and back. Rosie seemed to get real comfort from seeing Lily with Georgia, but I didn’t share those peaceful feelings.
I said my good night to Baby Girl after Rosie and Lily left the room. By the time I came out Lily was gone, and Rosie had settled into her favorite chair and turned on an old movie. I offered to make her a cup of tea. I put the kettle on and stared out the kitchen window. I wondered if John was coming back for the tables and chairs before it got too dark out there. I brought Rosie her tea, but by the time I got to the front parlor she was sound asleep in her chair. I turned down the television and covered her with an afghan.
I went back to my room and stretched out across my bed. I pulled my notebook and pen from the door and wrote a letter to Mama.
Dear Mama,
I’ve been sending Daddy money every week for the barn, but I’ve failed to keep you up on my life. I got a job and have been working real hard at it. I miss school, but know I will go back some day. I’ve met some special people, Mama. I know you will love them as much as I do, if you’ll give them a chance. I miss you and the kids. Is the new baby a boy or a girl? Does Daddy talk about me ever? Is he hoping I’ll come home soon? I’ve done some things that are too hard to put in a letter. But I want you to know that I try hard every day to live in a way that will make you and Daddy proud. I’ll write again soon and maybe I will find the right ways to tell you about the special people I mentioned.
Love,
Becky
I folded the paper in thirds and slipped it inside an envelope. I addressed the envelope and for the first time put Rosie’s address in the left corner. Tomorrow, I would walk to the post office and send it on its way.
CHAPTER 21
Rosie suggested we skip work and catch up on our rest the next day. The offer was mighty tempting, but with Thanksgiving only a few days away, there was too much work to be done. I convinced Rosie to stay home and let me work by telling her I was finishing the decorations for the store’s Christmas tree, and I wanted them to be a surprise for her.
The folks on Main Street had decided they were tired of waving the white flag in the battle to bring in shoppers. The time had come for them to give the malls a little competition for some holiday customers. On Wednesday, Pete and a couple of other guys would set a bare tree in front of each business on Main Street, and every shop would decorate their own tree. On the Friday and Saturday following Thanksgiving, customers could vote for their favorite tree. I didn’t know if it really would bring in more customers, but I was having fun making the decorations.
It worried me some when Rosie didn’t even put up a fight the next morning when I suggested she stay home again. I decided I would come home at lunch to check on her and make sure she ate something.
It was my birthday and I was expecting it to pass without notice, since I hadn’t told Rosie about it. When I walked onto the front porch at lunchtime, I was surprised to see a package waiting for me. I sat on a rocker and opened it right away. It was a book and a note. Happy birthday, Becky! Study hard and let me know when you’re ready for the exams. I’ll drive you there myself. —John
I looked at the cover of the book—Everything You Need to Know to Pass the High School Equivalency Exam. I was feeling so many different things all at once that I couldn’t see straight. I sat there for a minute, deciding whether to be angry at his interference or grateful for his concern.
Georgia tired of waiting for her lunch and leaned forward, smacking me hard on the knee with her new silver rattle. I rubbed my knee. “I can’t wait till you have your words to tell me what you want,” I said. She laughed and flung the rattle at my head. I caught it mid-air and stuck it in my bag. “I’ll have none of that, little lady. I knew you were too big for a rattle. We’ll just put this away in your keepsake box.”
I stuffed the book and note into my bag, too. I didn’t want to explain anything to Rosie at the moment. When we went in the house, Rosie was dozing in her chair. Georgia babbled our hellos and woke Rosie. “Is it closing time already?” she asked.
“It’s lunchtime, Rosie. We came home to have lunch with you,” I said.
“Oh, dear,” Rosie said as she struggled to lift herself from the chair. “I haven’t made lunch.”
“You stay right where you are. Georgia has been missing you all morning,” I said. “How about you sit here with her, while I heat some soup for us? There’s a chill in the air today.”
“I can feel it in my bones,” Rosie said, sinking back into her seat. She stretched out her arms and said, “Bring her to me. Maybe she can give me some clues about that tree you’re decorating.”
I laughed and set Baby Girl on her lap. “I’m not worried about that. This little one isn’t giving any secrets away.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Rosie kidded. “We have our own way of communicating. We don’t need conversation.”
Looking at the two of them together made any bad feeling I still had from finding the book from John on the porch disappear. Rosie was right. They did have a special way of communicating. Baby Girl was growing strong, and when she sat in my lap she never stopped moving. But when she settled into Rosie’s lap she was real quiet and calm, as if she knew Rosie’s body wasn’t as strong as her spirit. I left them playing peek-a-boo, and went to warm our soup.
When Georgia and I got back to the store, I settled her in for a nap. I had seen a piece on the news a few days earlier about the vintage rage. According to the reporter, buying pretty much anything vintage was a big thing. She’d showed old clothes, furniture, jewelry, and knickknacks. I’d been thinking about that story since then. I was sure there were plenty of vintage items at the Second Hand Rose. I looked around the store, trying to decide what items could be called vintage instead of just plain old used. I was concentrating so hard on my task that I didn’t notice the door opening behind me. A cough startled me out of my thoughts. I turned around and saw John standing there.
“Happy birthday, Becky,” he said.
It’s amazing how good those words can feel when you’re not expecting to hear them. “Thank you.”
John took a couple of steps closer to me and handed me a bouquet of flowers. “I decided a school book probably wasn’t the best birthday gift. I hope you know, though
, I gave it to you because I believe you can do it. Anyway, I hope you like these.”
Now, I know I should have taken this opportunity to let John know I wouldn’t have appreciated that book any day of the year. I should have made it clear I just wanted him to forget what I had told him. Standing that close to him made it impossible for me to have any harsh feelings or words, though. Instead, I took the flowers, and before I even knew what I was doing I was hugging him. The next thing I knew he was hugging me back, and instead of being embarrassed by my behavior I was feeling like I could stand there past closing time.
It was John that let go first and took a couple of steps back. “I might have crushed your flowers there,” he said.
I looked down at the bouquet. “They still look beautiful to me.”
John smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I need to get back to work. Enjoy your special day, Becky.”
I looked out the window until John’s truck was too far down the street for me to see. Then I found a vase for the flowers and put them on the counter. No one had ever given me flowers before. I wasn’t the kind of girl people made a big fuss for. I pulled a daisy from the vase, then got some tissue paper and the biggest book I could find on the shelves. I put the flower in the paper and slipped it into the middle of the book. I put the book under the counter. I don’t like taking Rosie’s merchandise off the sales tables, but I wanted to save this moment forever. Besides, it wasn’t like I was expecting a truckload of people in there looking for a chipped vase and an old copy of the unabridged dictionary.
The next day, Dottie watched me open without Rosie for the third day that week, and she could not contain her curiosity any longer. I hadn’t even gotten Baby Girl’s coat off when Dottie came through the door. “Where’s Rosie been?” she asked.
“She’s a little worn out from the christening,” I said. “So she’s taking a little vacation time to catch up on her rest.”
“Does that mean we won’t be seeing you girls at Pete’s house for Thanksgiving dinner?” Dottie asked.
“We’ll be there. I offered to make dinner at home, but Rosie wouldn’t hear of us backing out of his invitation,” I said. “I think she’s looking forward to seeing somebody other than Georgia and me.” I laughed.
“Ray is afraid Pete will skip the turkey and make us a Mexican feast,” Dottie said. “I had to put my foot down to keep him from bringing a turkey with us.”
“I don’t think it will matter to Rosie what he serves,” I said. “She hasn’t had much of an appetite lately.”
“Maybe all she needs is some good cooking,” Dottie said. “I see you go home at lunchtime. I’ll bring you over some of Ray’s famous chicken and dumplings to take home with you. That will stir Rosie’s appetite.”
I forced a smile on my face and thanked her for her offer. I could feel a little steam building up inside of me. On the one hand, it was real nice of her to want to help Rosie. On the other hand, she didn’t need to insult me doing it. I still wasn’t a great cook, but I’d picked up a few things from Rosie over the past months and I was capable of cooking a decent meal.
Before Dottie left, she stroked one of the flowers in the vase. “These are mighty pretty,” she said.
“Yes, they are,” I said. I walked past her and opened the door. I wasn’t about to give her a chance to ask any questions about their origin. Dottie’s questions always seemed like mice in a kitchen. You know as soon as you spot one, there’s a dozen more just waiting to pop out and scurry across the floor. “Thanks again for your offer to help. I’ll see you at lunchtime.”
When she left, I got busy with work. By the time lunch rolled around, I had decided to take after Rosie and concentrate on the good in people, not the bad. I reminded myself about how kind Dottie had been to me at the christening. When Dottie came across the street with a big bag of food, my thank you was genuine.
I met up with the mailman at the bottom of the porch stairs. He stooped over to say hi to Georgia; she is a beautiful baby and not many people can pass her by without wanting a closer peek. When he stood up, he handed me a stack of envelopes and wished me a happy Thanksgiving.
There was a letter addressed to me on the top of the stack. There was no return address, but I recognized the writing as belonging to Daddy. Looking at that envelope filled me up. I had hoped to hear from Mama for my birthday. It would be like a gift—forgiveness wrapped in an envelope. When my birthday came and went without a word from home, I laughed at myself for being afraid to let them know where I was all this time. Even giving them the address didn’t land them on Rosie’s doorstep. But the envelope with my name on it filled me with some kind of expectation. I couldn’t tell if it was excitement or dread. “Now don’t be silly,” I reminded myself. “Mama and Daddy never were much for letter writing, and Daddy was always economical with postage. It is just like them to send a letter right between my birthday and Thanksgiving, so they can send me all kinds of good wishes for the cost of one stamp.” I stuffed the letter in my pocket, picked up Georgia and the food, and practically danced into the house.
Rosie was up and moving that day. “I was going to start lunch,” she said.
“No need,” I answered. “Dottie sent a treat home with me. Chicken and dumplings,” I said, pulling the container from the bag. “And for dessert, some apple cobbler.”
We sat down and dug into lunch. I was happy to see Rosie eating some today instead of just rearranging the food on her plate. She asked for a scoop of ice cream to go with the cobbler, but I noticed her slipping more of it into Georgia’s mouth than her own. She seemed a little unwilling to be left behind when it was time for Georgia and I to leave. I reminded her of how disappointed Pete Garcia would be if we had to cancel at the last minute. She decided to stay home and bake some apple and cranberry breads to bring to the dinner.
As soon as I got Baby Girl settled in for her nap, I pulled out Daddy’s letter. I couldn’t wait a moment longer to read all the news from home. I unfolded the white sheet of paper. Daddy didn’t waste words.
Dear Becky,
No need for you to write anymore. The barn is paid for.
Yours truly,
Joseph W. Miller
I can’t even tell you how long I sat there staring at those words. The next thing I knew, Georgia was crying to be picked up from her nap. I held Baby Girl tight and paced a bit. Then I crumpled that letter and threw it in the trash.
I closed a few minutes early that day and stopped at the diner on the way home. “Thanks so much for lunch,” I said. “Rosie cleaned her plate for the first time in days.”
Dottie smiled from ear to ear. “I didn’t think she would be able to resist Ray’s chicken and dumplings,” she said. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “He’s not much to look at, but that man sure can cook.”
Not knowing how to respond to that, I sort of half smiled. “I want to ask for a little more help from you and Ray,” I began.
Dottie draped her arm around my shoulders. “Of course you do. A young girl like you can’t handle all this responsibility. What do you need, darling?” The words rolled out of her like syrup sliding down a stack of pancakes.
I reminded myself this was for Rosie. “I was wondering if you would be willing to come by tomorrow and pick up Rosie on your way to Pete’s. She’s had a chill for days now, so I think the November air might not be the best thing for her,” I explained.
“No problem,” Dottie said. “We’ll come around about noon to pick the three of you up.”
My desire to get out from under Dottie’s grip was strong, so I just gave another half smile. “Thanks,” I said, separating myself from her. “Rosie is looking forward to tomorrow.”
I don’t know if it was the extra rest or the big lunch that restored her energy, but Rosie talked on and on through supper. She wanted an accounting of everybody who passed through the Second Hand Rose door. By the time we moved into the front parlor for the evening, she was trying to decide what items wou
ld sell best for Christmas.
“Rosie,” I said. “I noticed a sewing machine on the shelf, so I tried it out and it works.”
“Of course it works,” Rosie said. “Why would I sell a machine that didn’t work?”
My mind immediately made a list of the many broken items in the store, but I decided to keep it to myself. “I was wondering if you would mind if I used the machine to make some tree skirts and stockings, and maybe even some doll clothes,” I said.
“Where are we going to get the material for those things?” Rosie asked. “Lydie might carry some, but we probably would have to go back to the mall. I wish you would have thought of this the last time we went to there. It’s too crowded for me after Thanksgiving.”
“I was thinking we wouldn’t need to buy fabric,” I said. “What if I cut up some of the clothes and ties that haven’t been selling anyway? I went through the store this morning and found quite a few things that would work.”
“You are too clever for me,” Rosie laughed. “I said it before and I’ll say it again. The day you two walked into my store was the luckiest day of my life. You use anything you see fit. I won’t stand in the way of the family artist.”
“We are the lucky ones,” I said, and got up to get Georgia ready for bed.
After we got the baby tucked in for the night, Rosie went off to bed, too. I decided to watch a movie on the television, but my mind was too cluttered to follow the story. I gave up and slid into bed, but no matter how heavy my eyelids got, I couldn’t fall asleep. I’d thrown Daddy’s note away, but his words were etched in my brain. I had spent most of my growing up years helping out at home. Maybe that’s why Mama and Daddy seemed to see my leaving as losing a hired hand instead of missing a daughter.
CHAPTER 22
I opened my eyes the next morning and looked over at the clock on my bedside table. When the time, nine-fifteen, registered in my brain, I bolted upright. I had never slept this late before. Why hadn’t Baby Girl demanded attention before now? I looked into the crib and there she was holding onto her feet and rolling from side to side with this big old toothless grin on her face. I stood there watching for a few minutes and laughing at myself for being such a worrywart. When the ammonia smell drifted up from her diaper, playtime was over.
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