“All right, everyone,” Rose said, coming up behind him. “Let’s all get into bed and say our prayers.”
Silas watched as she went from bed to bed, giving each of her siblings a quick hug, then murmuring something quietly with them. He hadn’t been wrong in his previous estimation that Rose was good with her siblings. He’d always admired how well she cared for them back in Ohio when she and Mary shared the duty of raising their younger siblings once their mother died. Granted, they lived with their aunt, but Ina had been a hard woman, caring only about how she could put the Stone children to work.
He knelt beside Milly’s bed, then gave his daughter a hug and a kiss, whispering a soft prayer of God’s love over his daughter.
“I wuv you, Papa.” Milly squeezed him hard around his neck, filling him with warmth and love. Though he should be used to the gesture by now, it never got old to be reminded of how far he and his daughter had come.
“I love you too, Milly.”
Then Rose arrived at the bed. “Good night, Nugget.”
She gave her youngest sister a hug and a kiss, then did the same to Milly. “And to you, too, my sweet. May you both have sweet dreams blessed by God, and may He keep you safe in His arms. Amen.”
Milly gave Rose the same tight-necked squeeze she’d given him. “I wuv you, my Rosey.”
Milly was Rose’s sweet. And Rose was Milly’s Rosey. How could he have any greater blessing than a woman who loved his daughter so?
She returned Milly’s sentiment, then gave her another kiss.
“Good night, everyone.”
Rose turned to the door and indicated he should follow her. Together, they descended the stairs, not speaking until they had returned to the parlor.
“You’re really excellent with them, you know that?” Silas smiled at her as she sat and picked up her knitting.
“Thank you.” Rose didn’t look up or smile back. “I do my best, but I know I’m not nearly as good as Mary or Annabelle.”
The one thing that hadn’t changed for the better with Rose since their time in Ohio was her lack of confidence in herself. She used to be bold, almost brash, and she never failed to tell people what she thought. Folks used to call Rose wild, but he’d loved her free-spirited approach to life. Now she seemed almost a shell of that person.
“Why do you put yourself down? I don’t know many sisters who would so lovingly care for their siblings. What’s changed you? Years ago, you would have accepted my compliment, then fished for more.”
Rose set her knitting down. “I’m not that girl anymore.”
Before he could quiz her further, Frank entered the room, carrying a tea tray. “No need to get up. I just thought I’d bring some refreshments since you’re sure to be up all night waiting for news. I have to finish working on my sermon for Sunday, so I’ll be in my study. But I’m here if you need me.”
Frank set the tray down on a table.
“Thank you,” Rose said, smiling up at him softly. “I know I should get some rest, but I don’t think I can sleep until I have word of Mary and the baby.”
He returned her smile. “She was the same with you. I know you two don’t always get on, but never doubt the depth of her love for you.”
Rose nodded slowly, a meek agreement when Silas could see the sadness in her eyes. Old Rose would have argued, or at least expressed what he saw on her face. But this Rose said nothing.
As though Frank understood, he left the room, not commenting on Rose’s attitude, but mumbling about his upcoming sermon. Silas, too, wished he could ask Rose, but he’d already been bordering on conversation too intimate for people no longer romantically connected. It wasn’t right for him to dig deep into her heart when he couldn’t be the man to claim it.
* * *
Rose hated the distance that sprang up between them after Frank left them alone in the room. But there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t open her up to the scrutiny she’d worked so hard to avoid. The truth was, years ago, she’d been vain, selfish and resentful of not having a normal life. She cared for her siblings, yes, but not with a cheerful or loving heart. Rose had been angry, bitter, and it was only to show off for Silas that she’d seemed otherwise.
The girl he knew didn’t exist anymore.
And while she knew that God had forgiven her for her sins, she wasn’t so sure her family had. Despite her best efforts to bridge the gap, and her earnest desire to be closer to her older sister, Mary still seemed to hold herself at a distance from her. Though the younger siblings respected Rose’s authority, they still came to her with trepidation.
Silas seemed engrossed in the Bible Frank had given him. Frank believed strongly in the idea that everyone should have ready access to God’s word, and he constantly gave away Bibles to anyone who had need. It warmed Rose’s heart to see Silas making use of that generosity. In all their courting days, she couldn’t remember Silas ever reading the Bible for himself. Then again, neither had she. One more way the years had changed them. Any fondness they might still have for one another was based on shadows of memories that had no place in the here and now.
The stairs creaked, and Rose looked up from her knitting. Her younger sister Helen, wrapped in a giant shawl, hair mussed from tossing and turning, stood there.
“Is the baby here yet?”
Rose shook her head and patted the seat next to her. “There’s no use in staying up there and disturbing the others. Frank made some tea, and though it’s probably lukewarm, you might find it soothing.”
Helen nodded slowly. She got herself a cup of tea, then sat in the chair farthest from Rose, letting out a long sigh. “It didn’t take so long with Annabelle’s baby, or yours.”
“Every baby comes on its own time,” Rose said, ignoring the pang at the thought of how long Matthew had taken. She hadn’t wanted to bother anyone any more than she already had, so she hadn’t told anyone about her pains until they’d become unbearable. She didn’t know how far along in her labor Mary was, or at what point Mary had told everyone the baby was coming. Even with that information, she couldn’t tell Helen much more than she already had.
Then Helen turned her attention on Silas. “I heard Milly’s mama died having a baby.”
“Helen!” Rose gave her younger sister a sharp look. Granted, Silas was practically family but they’d already gone too far in discussing things of a delicate nature in front of him.
“It’s all right.” Silas closed his Bible, then smiled at Rose’s younger sister, his eyes lined with something that looked like pain. “She did. But Annie had a weak constitution, and after Milly was born, the doctor suggested she not have more children.”
Silas’s voice cracked slightly. “But Annie was bent on Milly having siblings. She didn’t want Milly to be an only child, the way she and I had been, and she thought...”
Though he wasn’t openly weeping, Rose heard the tears in his voice. “She thought the family ought to have a son to carry on the family name.”
Then, as though he could turn his grief off as easily as one blew out a candle, Silas shook his head. “Mary is strong and healthy. You don’t need to worry about her.”
So many things Rose wished she could say to Silas, to give him comfort at the reminder of what he’d lost. But they no longer had the kind of closeness that would allow it, and it would be a bad example to her younger sister to seem too emotionally invested in a man who was not to be her husband.
But Helen didn’t seem to understand the silent cues Rose was sending. Instead, she asked, “Are you sad that you don’t have a son to carry on the family name?”
“Helen. We don’t ask people such personal questions.” Rose’s voice was sharper than she intended, but the thing Rose regretted the most in her past actions was how her boldness in speaking of things that people didn’t talk about in polite society harm
ed her family’s reputation. She’d always been too quick to speak her mind, branding her an indiscreet fool, and when her sin with Matthew’s father came to light, society sniggered behind their gloves, saying she deserved it for being such a flighty girl.
Now Rose did her best to temper those qualities which society deemed so inappropriate. And she’d hoped that her younger sisters would learn from her example.
Only Silas didn’t seem as horrified as Rose felt. Rather, he gave the lazy, indulgent smile that had so often made her want to kiss him. In the past, of course. Now she knew better.
“It’s all right, Helen. Though Rose is correct that we don’t usually ask that sort of question in general society, you’re among friends, and I don’t mind answering.”
Helen looked at Rose like she might stick her tongue out at her, but thought better of it.
“My teacher says I’m impertinent. But I say, how am I supposed to learn if no one answers my questions?”
Silas grinned. “You sound an awful lot like a certain young lady I used to court. I hope you never lose that spirit.”
He looked at Rose with those final words, as though he disapproved of the changes in her life. But he had no idea how much the spirit he so praised had gotten her in trouble.
“And in answer to your question,” Silas continued, “no, I’m not sad I don’t have a son to carry on the family name. Milly is more than I could have ever hoped for in life, and I can’t imagine feeling any differently about a boy.”
Helen straightened. “Joseph says the same thing about Catherine. And Will says he doesn’t care if they have a boy or a girl. But if you all are so happy about having girls, then why don’t we girls have the same freedoms as boys?”
Not this again. Rose closed her eyes and said a silent prayer for patience with her sister. Everyone had this conversation with Helen on a regular basis. And, once upon a time, Rose herself might have pursued the same line of thinking. She could even remember arguing that men visited houses of pleasure all the time with no consequence, so why were women held to a higher standard? But that was before her one indiscretion in that regard. Was it fair that men were not shunned for their loose ways as Rose had been? No. But it was the way of the world, and Rose wished she’d paid more heed to the lectures in propriety and deportment she’d been given.
Silas had the nerve to laugh. Not just a chuckle of amusement, but a full-on belly laugh.
“It’s not funny,” Helen said, her eyes flashing with fury. “My sister is having a baby, and could die, and no one will tell me anything about it. I heard her crying before we left, and she was in pain, and Will wouldn’t let me see to her. If this is what having a baby is like, no wonder it’s all such a big secret. I certainly don’t want to have one.”
Her raised voice must have disturbed Uncle Frank’s sermon preparation because he entered the room, looking bemused.
“What is all this commotion?”
Rose let out a long sigh. “Helen is expressing her frustration about a woman’s limitations.”
Frank’s smile bolstered Rose’s confidence. He, too, had been the victim of Helen’s many speeches about the unfairness of people not answering her questions.
“I just want to make sure that Mary isn’t going to die!” Tears burst out of Helen like one of the mighty explosions in the mine.
Rose got up and gathered her sister in her arms. Though Helen usually fought such gestures, she allowed Rose to hold her tight. “There aren’t any guarantees. Not in having a baby, not in walking down the street. You know that.”
Wishing she could give Helen some comfort, and hoping she wasn’t saying the wrong thing, Rose said softly, “Having a baby hurts. That’s why Mary was crying. I believe I screamed a time or two, the pain was so bad. But once I held Matthew in my arms, the pain didn’t matter anymore. I would have gone through that and more a thousand times over for him.”
Then she hesitated, aware that there were men in the room. When their second to youngest sister, Bess, was born, they’d been alone with their mother, no one around to help, and Rose had been tasked with minding the other children while Mary helped their mother give birth. Once it was over, Mary explained the details of what happened to her, including her very rough knowledge of how the baby came to be in the first place. Rose had known much of it from watching their animals on the farm, but somehow the knowledge of what happened between a man and a woman had comforted her. Of course, neither their mother nor Mary had mentioned the temptations and pleasure that went along with it, and sometimes Rose wondered if they should have.
“I’m sorry if our discretion has upset you,” Rose said softly to her sister. “I think it’s hard to know what is and isn’t right to tell you.”
The truth was, much of Rose’s troubles came out of a lack of openness between herself and Mary. She would have had fewer problems had she only had someone to confide in. Who would answer her questions honestly.
Rose pulled away and looked Helen in the eye. “I’m sorry if I’ve seemed too hard on you. I just want to keep you from making the mistakes I have. But I realize now that the harsh answers I received were what drove me headlong into trouble. So I promise to do a better job of answering your questions.”
As if he was trying to encourage Rose after having to listen to her long-ago rants about how no one wanted to talk to her about things that were real, Silas gave her a gentle smile. Now, just as he had then, Silas understood. A disconcerting thought since she wasn’t sure she was ready to give him any more space in her life than he already had.
Then she brought her attention back to Helen. “But you have to promise me something. You can ask me anything, but you’ll only ask me in private, and whatever I tell you will be kept just between us.”
Helen nodded slowly. “But what if Evelyn wants to know? We tell each other everything.”
Born barely a year apart, Helen and Evelyn had a closeness that Rose had often envied. Though Evelyn was the elder, she’d always been much more timid than Helen, and Helen often spoke for her sister.
“Then you should tell her to ask me. I’ll offer her the same promise I gave you.”
Helen regarded her suspiciously for a moment. “Why are you now willing to do this?”
Rose glanced quickly at Silas, wondering if he knew the role he played in her life. “Because Silas’s comments comparing you to me made me realize that many of my troubles in life would have been avoided had I only had another woman to confide in. I felt very alone from the time I was around your age, until...”
Rose sighed. Sometimes she still felt that alone. Even among the other women in their group, it seemed like she sat on the outer edge, not within the circle.
“Well.” She smiled away the painful thought. “I’m willing to be there for you if you’ll let me.”
“But you had Mary,” Helen said.
Rose shook her head. “Mary and I were never close. When we were children, it was always her and Joseph. They were as inseparable as you and Evelyn, perhaps even more so. I tried to join in their games, but they told me I was too little, or I wouldn’t understand. When Joseph left to come to Leadville, Mary and I were virtual strangers, and we never confided in one another. We assumed a lot about the other and were often wrong in our assumptions. It didn’t promote a healthy sisterly bond.”
And maybe that was why Mary hadn’t asked Rose to come with Maddie. It had hurt that her sister hadn’t wanted her, particularly as it seemed like all the adult women had been present for Matthew’s birth. She longed for them to want her, but perhaps they simply didn’t want Rose.
“But you’re better now,” Helen said, hugging her. “You and Mary never fight anymore.”
Even though Rose didn’t agree with Helen’s assessment, she hugged her sister back. Maybe someday she and Mary would be close, but for now, she’d accept the privilege of
being able to guide her younger sisters the way she wished she’d been.
Fortunately, Rose was spared from further dissection of her heart by the front door opening. Maddie entered the room, pulling off her bonnet.
“It’s a girl. Mother and baby are well, and you’ve never seen a man happier to be a father than Will. It’s not proper, but he refuses to leave Mary’s side.”
The older woman shook her head. “Folks these days. No one seems to know their place in this world. But I suppose it’s about time men started doing more to help their women with the little ones. Not sure who came up with the fool notion that we have to do it all, but at least some people got it right.”
Helen giggled, but Rose just smiled. She was used to Maddie’s rants about the world not being what it ought, and how despite her seeming resistance to that difference, Maddie was always among the first to accept the changes. Maddie had been the first to recognize that Rose might be expecting, and though it had taken the rest of the family time to get over the shock, her love and support of Rose had been unwavering. Rose had never felt that Maddie was ashamed of her.
“Does the baby have a name?” Frank asked.
Maddie made a noise. “They say they want to get to know her first to see what fits. I’m just hoping it’s not something weird from Shakespeare like she was talking about last week. Hamlet. Who names a baby Hamlet?”
Then she turned and regarded the rest of the room, her gaze settling on Helen. “What do you think you’re doing still up at this hour? The baby’s here. Now go to bed.”
Helen turned back to Rose. “Why does Maddie always get to speak her mind, but not me? Why do I have to ask you privately?”
“Because I have forty more years of living behind me than you do, young lady. I suppose I know a little something more about living than you do, and until you have the experience to back that mouth of yours up, you’d do well to close it more often.
For the Sake of the Children Page 7
