Rose for Rose: Book Two in the Angels' Mirror Series (14 page)

Seventeen

“Mama… Padre… this is… Rose,” Pilar told them by way of introduction, pointing to the awkward teenager standing next to her.

She was nearly as thin as the next door neighbor’s little golden mutt, and her hair was the color of sun-bleached wheat.

Fifine Noel gently nodded her head, and she watched as her husband, Juanito, just looked at the girl.

Finally, he shook her hand heartily; smiled widely, the little gap between his top teeth showing. The two were almost the same precise height.

“She need help tonight. Just lunch, maybe dinner. Time to think. She…” A pleading look crossed Pilar’s features for a moment, and was gone.

Their daughter always had a good heart; open to helping others, and very sweet. Quiet unless she knew you well or liked you immediately, Margaux Valentina Pilar Iglesias was their oldest child, and so far, their most people-oriented. She just wore out with too many people around; she was comfortable with family and had a couple of good friends. Perhaps in time, this Rose would be among them.

Fifine Noel smiled as a welcome to the young girl.

How old was she? Older than their Pilar, but by how much?

“How do you do, Rose,” she finally said. “I am Mama Fifine, and this,” she pointed to her husband, “is Padre Juanito.”

A quizzical look crossed Rose’s face even as she accepted the hand held out to her. “How do you do?” She paused, and then: “Padre? Is… is he a priest?”

Fifine chuckled softly. “Oh, no. He does landscaping, but… he is from Argentina, dear. Padre is a common… how you say… um… term of endearment?”

With a brief glance to Pilar, who nodded in assent, Fifine smiled again, feeling surer of herself.

She watched as Rose took in their kitchen, where they now stood. How would she view it?

As she tried to distance herself from her home to see it from an outsider’s perspective, pride rose in her chest.

They had a large kitchen for such a small house. Big enough for everyone to sit at the table on the north side of the long room, and plenty of cabinet space. The room was a lively aquamarine and cherry red with white accents and appliances. And maybe she was a bit biased, being her favorite room in the house, but Fifine Noel thought it was one of the merriest kitchens she’d ever been in.

She took in a deep, appreciative breath and her smile widened. For right now, it smelled like a little piece of heaven, for lunch would be served within the hour.

“We would be delighted for you, Rose, to stay for lunch. Do you like tamales?”

“It smells good, so I probably will. I don’t think I’ve ever… had them before,” the girl replied shyly. “But I thank you very much. I… it’s been a difficult week and I’ve had a lot to… to think about.”

Juanito quietly excused himself to make a phone call, and the baby began crying in the back room.

All of two, Mimi was already very demanding. “There’s a baby here,” Fifine heard Rose asking Pilar as she excused herself to check on her youngest.

The boys would be home for lunch soon, and if she could feed Mimi beforehand, maybe they could get through a lunch without her screaming, since there was a guest.

“Why you don’t… I mean… why don’t you find a TV show for you and Rose, eh,” she said to Pilar as a way of exit. “I’m sure something good is on. Maybe even
Perry Mason
.”

After she watched the girls head into the living room, Fifine Noel went to retrieve her youngest. It had been a long time since there had been a new friend for Pilar, and she began to pray earnestly.

“Lord, I know You want only best things for us, si? Please be with Pilar and Rose both and watch over them. Send Your blessed angels to come make sure they stay friends, si? I appreciate it more than I have words to speak them,” she said quietly as she changed Mimi’s diaper. “Mother Mary, talk to your Son, eh? A good son always listen to his mother, and yours is the best, so… Mary… oh, Mother Mary, full of grace, hear my prayer and help out my Pilar. Intercede for me, mother to mother. You understand… I know.”

Satisfied she had spoken her heart, Fifine Noel walked back out into the kitchen, Mimi at her hip, and watched the girls as they laughed at a
Veggie Tales
cartoon that was on.

Thankful, she turned her eyes toward heaven for a quick thank You as the boys came storming in the door. After introductions were made, she called everyone to eat and for once, the boys weren’t the only ones eating seconds.

Pilar and Rose joined in, too.

Fifine smiled to herself and caught Juanito doing the same.

This girl would be good for their family… she just knew it.

“So, Rose, tell us about yourself some, yes,” Mama Fifine began as they all sat down for dinner. “Is this the first time you’ve been to the area, or do you visit regularly?”

The girl looked up at her over her tamale and smiled. “I’m from the other side of the country… from Massachusetts. I miss my family horribly. You see… it’s the first time I’ve been away from them in as long as I can remember. I mean… the family who are left, that is.”

Rose didn’t look directly at any one person; instead, she looked at each of them a few moments before allowing her gaze to travel to the next person at the table.

“The family who is left,” Pilar asked, a quizzical look on her face.

Fifine Noel watched as, momentarily, Rose’s face crumpled as though she were about to cry.

Instead, she took a big gulp of her glass of mandarina Jarritos and looked directly at Pilar. “Yes… the family who is left. I… I lost… my mother and baby sister, they both died less than a year ago, and no, I… I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Stunned, Fifine watched as her daughter placed a hand over her new friend’s own, paler one and squeezed it. The boys stared, open-mouthed for a moment, quizzical looks on their faces, before they realized they should probably keep chewing their food.

Juanito was the first to speak.

“Pequena miss Rosa... estamos tan triste de escuchar esta triste noticia. Por favor, le pedimos que nos perdone. No nos referimos a importunar.”

Rose looked at him, confused for a moment despite the tears that were beginning to roll down her shallow little cheeks.

“Sorry,” Pilar said quickly. “Allow me to interpret for you… Padre says, we’re sorry to intrude, and are sad to hear of this news. Please forgive us for asking such a personal thing. We mean no harm by it.”

With a brief nod, Rose smiled through her tears and continued eating in silence. The boys began chattering about the antics of their cats earlier in the day, and things seemed to calm down again.

But in her heart, Fifine Noel knew there was more to the story than met the ear.

She would just have to be patient and allow Rose to talk to them about her life in her own time and way. All they could do was care about her and trust that, in time, she would learn to trust they wouldn’t hurt her.

Eighteen

Saint-Germain-en-Laye, France… August 14, 1695

A flash of light emitted from the mirror, momentarily blinding Mary. She could see that James was having a hard time seeing what was happening, too. The sun was out, but could it really be that bright?

A gasp filled the air, a thud, and a hush.

The mirror had spit out – no, propelled – a vibrantly red-headed, plump little woman in odd clothing out into their expanse of lawn. She wore a little hat, rounded and close to the face, that had what seemed to be some sort of feathers on the left side of it.

Slowly moving, as though through she was walking through sludge, Mary exited the house, and then… she ran. She felt like a tutor’s student running, and she was frightened, but this woman, whoever she was, might be a link to their missing Edward.

And just in time, as a buyer had been chosen.

She shuddered to think what would have happened had the woman come through the mirror a day or two later instead of now. Once the mirror was gone, they had no hope of learning anything about Edward’s new world at all… and there was no guarantee they would with this woman, either.

As she made her way toward the woman, a thought flashed through her mind…. She still needed to plant a letter to Edward into one of the mirror’s secret compartments, but when would she do it?

He must know they received his packet; he must know….

She had written carefully all the details she could recall about his mother’s family. And she wasn’t going to let anything stop her from doing something right for Edward, for a change.

With another cursory glance at the woman as she approached her, Mary noted her clothes didn’t seem anything the same as the photos that had been passed through the mirror. So did that mean she was from a different time and place, entirely?

With a heavy sigh, she pondered it a moment, and then… she was face to face with this new stranger.

She could hope, right?

Out of breath, Mary waited a few moments before she tried to speak. The woman had gotten up off the ground where she’d landed, still wet with morning dew.

“Hello, I’m… I’m Mary. Are you… alright?”

In the distance she could make out a carriage and feared one of her husband’s guests was arriving already from their outing for the day.

Lord, not now!

Then, all too suddenly, James was beside her.

He must have followed her, without her realization.

What were they to do with this woman? Their guests would arrive speedily, and then what?

“Greetings, fair lady,” she heard her husband murmur from behind her; felt him pushing her aside. “My name is James; this is Mary. And what would your name be?”

Mary could feel the eyes of some of the service people on them, wary. She could hear the carriage now, a sure thing that one of James’ guests was, indeed, pulling in momentarily.

“I’m… that is to say, my name is Mrs. Roisin Mac Bradaigh. That is to say, I’m Miss Roisin, Sir, Madam.”

The woman eyed them warily, but dipped in greeting anyway.

Mary could see now that Roisin’s eyes were big and brown with just a hint of greeny-gold in them. Her face was rounded, but slightly long, her chin just a hair off-center. She had a pleasant smile once she finished bobbing her curtsy.

“And some of our guests are returning,” she heard James say, as from a distance. Her head was spinning, and she wished to retire and speak with the woman of the mirror. Hesitantly, she requested just that.

“Less questions; more time to get things straightened out,” she said, her eyes on her husband. As she turned back to Mrs. Mac Bradaigh, she said, “I’ve heard that name before… Roisin. What does it mean? It’s really quite lovely.”

“Rose,” she heard both James and Roisin say, in near unity. “It means Rose.”

Roisin smiled, and James flushed red, his hands clenching and unclenching a couple of times before stilling.

Mary thought for a moment.

How odd that they were in unison
, she thought.
As though they had some connection, already,
. But if they did, it was beyond her.

The woman looked suddenly uncomfortable; there were a million questions in her eyes. “If you wish, you may call me Rose, if that’s easier, though I prefer Miss Roisin.”

“Take her to your sitting room and talk things out,” James said, turning to her, a hard look in his eyes.

What was going on? Desperately wishing she could sigh, she refrained and opened her hand to the woman as Sir Alexandre’s carriage halted to a stop.

After what seemed an eternity, Miss Roisin silently allowed herself to be led up the long path and inside. Mary ushered the woman into the main doors of the château with a flourish, then made their presence known to the staff.

After ordering tea and sandwiches be brought to the sitting room, the two silently trod the stairs, side by side. As they did so, Mary sensed a foreboding she could only hope wasn’t real.

What was the woman’s story, and how would they keep her from telling her husband’s guests? And it was now evident, Roisin would make their party at the masquerade six.

With a sigh she hoped was unnoticeable, Mary opened the door and ushered the red-headed beauty inside, where the sun was cheerily caressing the windows and touching the chairs ever so slightly.

She had a feeling this was to be a long day, and she began to wonder how she’d be able to make the impossible happen before the evening’s sunset.