Rose for Rose: Book Two in the Angels' Mirror Series (18 page)

Part Three:

Tradition Broken

Twenty Three

Vancouver, Washington… August 16, 2013

“What do you mean, he told you he wants a divorce,” Paloma heard herself say as she kept her eye on the twins, who were playing with building blocks in the living room. Rose sat on the couch near them, reading a book.

Gently readjusting Cherish, who was asleep on her shoulder, she looked back at Eugenie with empathy.

Tears began to well in her eyes at the thought of all Mark had done to this woman she now saw as a sister of the heart.

Their tea had grown cold, but that was the least of their problems.

How could Mark just up and leave Eugenie, again, after all she’d done for him, and how could he refuse to stay married to her because she wanted to help Rose? Or was it more than that?

With his obsession over this Rosemary person, his letters to Arthur, and the behavior he’d been displaying on and off since he’d met Edward, Mark had grown more and more odd and scary than she could ever have imagined.

Rose’s niece, Jeanette, would be arriving by Amtrak later on in the day, and it would only be a matter of time before they knew how things would play out. Would they get along well enough for Rose to travel with her back to see her brother, or would they be at odds? And how would Rose react to seeing her brother looking as old as her own Gram-Papa had not too many years ago, to her own mindset?

The poor girl had been through enough… more than enough… and so had Eugenie!

Compassion and rage both began to swell within her, and she tamped down the rage, deflating it.

What was the point of anger if it wasn’t going to do any good?

Gently sighing, she watched Eugenie weave her spoon around in the cold peppermint tea she’d poured for herself an hour before. Petunia came padding over and sat near her friend’s feet and began to purr.

Rrrowl.

“All I know is he says he can’t trust me anymore because I asked him about….” She paused, glanced toward the children.

There was a sadness in Eugenie’s eyes deeper than any Paloma had ever seen.

“I asked him about why he wants Rose to be gone so quickly, but I also asked… I asked about the letters, and the file I found on Rosemary Jenkins. And why he was doing people searches on someone who was murdered by the man he
still
insists he must write at least three times a month.”

A shudder ran through her, and she crossed her legs toward Paloma, startling the cat momentarily.

What could she tell her friend? Her dear friend?

There were no words to express the grief she felt, knowing that she and Edward might be part of why Eugenie was in so much pain again.

Had they refused to allow Mark to be part of their wedding, and therefore caused him and Eugenie to spend more time than usual together, would it have altered things for the better?

There was no way to go and turn the clock back to find out. Their only clock, in that case, would be the mirror, and who knows where someone might end up?

Eugenie really didn’t need all this, with a baby on the way. Couldn’t Mark see that?

Why was he doing all this
now
?

But truth be told, he’d been doing it all along… we just didn’t realize it until way too late. We didn’t ask the right questions, like how he was able to have so much free time on his hands this past several months and how he felt about being a father
, she thought, sweeping her spoon through her tea. After a moment, she stood and turned the kettle back on so they could reheat and refresh their tea.

If Edward had been secretly watching for someone online and keeping a file on them, she’d be creeped out, too. It was bad enough that someone they had called a friend all this time was doing it. That it was someone they considered a close friend… someone they’d allowed watch their twins… that’s what really got to her.

Mark had always seemed nice, ever since that party at Justice’s brother, Keith’s place, several years ago. But he’d also always been… kind of off. And every time someone brought it up, he’d attribute it to his OCD or his PTSD or his ADHD….

Anything, she now realized, to not take responsibility for his actions.

As she thought about it more, she realized it had been around the time of that party that this Rosemary woman, and another, Andrea, had gone missing and then found killed. Well, Andrea’s body was found quite easily while they only found evidence Rosemary was there.

She shuddered.

Now that she’d had time to think and do some research, she’d realized Arthur was the man who’d been found guilty of murdering both women in cold blood. He always denied killing Rosemary, and he’d refused to plead insanity regarding Andrea’s killing, either.

The case was tried, and he’d been found guilty.

Guilty on both counts, even without a second body.

Oh, this was creepy! She shivered as she resituated herself in the chair.

“Paloma, I just don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t just… live where Mark can find me. Not right now. I need to figure out somewhere that he can’t… reach me at somewhere he wouldn’t think to…. This is too much. I was wondering… I know this is a lot to ask, but… um…”

After a few moments of stirring her cold tea, Eugenie finally finished.

“Could I… well, do you think it would be alright if I asked… do you think Angelique might allow me to come for a visit for a while once we get through this meeting with Jeanette? I don’t want to impose, but I… I’m not sure what else to do. Mark knows where my sister lives, and all my other family lives really far from here. Now that Angelique has moved closer, it might…”

Stunned momentarily, Paloma held her finger up. “Just a second.” She quickly got up and walked over to Rose. “Could you hold her for me a few minutes while Eugenie and I go talk on the porch? Is that alright?”

Reverently taking the baby into her arms, Rose just nodded silently. Duncan and Chosen glanced up from their tinkering.

“Me come, too?”

With a gentle laugh, Paloma bent down to their level. “Sorry, Chosen, but not this time. You two stay here with Rosie, okay?”

At their mutual, vigorous nodding, she rose and returned to Eugenie, who was now standing. “Let’s finish this conversation outside. I’ll grab my cell and meet you in the front. We can call her, and I’ll let you talk to her yourself.”

“Thank you,” Eugenie replied, breathing a sigh of relief. “I just don’t know what else… what else to do.”

Petunia Grace rrrowled at them from the chair she was now perched on, and Paloma shooed her back onto the floor.

“It’s going to be okay, ‘Genie. I know it doesn’t really feel like it right now, but… it’s going to be okay. I don’t know how, but… I trust that God knows what He’s doing. We have to just… trust that He will do well by us all, in His time.”

The forgotten kettle whistled, and she quickly turned it off, topped off the tea cups she and Eugenie had been working on, and sighed. “Do you want your tea outside?”

With a silent nod, Eugenie headed for the door. Paloma retrieved her phone from the side table in her bedroom, grabbed their tea, making sure the door closed behind her as she went outside to help Eugenie the best way she knew how: prayer first, and then, they had a phone call to make.

Twenty Four

Portland, Oregon

“Welcome, Jeanette,” Eugenie heard herself say to the woman who shuffled over to her sign.

The words felt mechanical, though she tried not to sound like it.

The fleshy woman, who looked about fifty, was smiling uncontrollably. Her green eyes shined, and it made her look exquisite.

“Thank you. So glad to finally be here.” Jeanette touched a hand to her dark, curling hair, which was gently greying, and then back to her suitcase. She glanced toward where Rose was waiting, further off. “Is that her?”

Something about the woman put Eugenie at ease. She already loved her aunt, even though the awkwardness of their age difference would have bothered most.

If only Mark had taken to her more quickly. Then, things would be different, wouldn’t they?

No!

She couldn’t think about that right now. Now was Jeanette and Rose’s time.

Now was the time for Peter Wishart-Laurent’s dreams and prayers to come true, even if he couldn’t be here this very minute.

“Yes, it is. Would you like me to introduce you, or would…”

Rose stood stock still on the sidewalk as the Yellow Line MAX whipped back into gear and slid past the station. People were milling all around – transients, business people and many things in between. Some had suitcases, like Jeanette, others briefcases, others backpacks, and still others were empty handed.

The girl looked pretty, but forlorn, with her new haircut and a set of clothes Paloma had given her earlier that day so she’d have something especially nice to wear when she met Jeanette.

It had taken Paloma several hours to make, but the effect was stunning: silky slacks the same oceanic shade as Rose’s eyes, and a crisp cotton blouse, white, with eyelet edging threaded through with the same silky fabric that curved into a smile of rounded neckline and faux-wrap waist.

She was beautiful… whether she knew and realized it or not.

“Before you introduce us, can I talk to you,” Jeanette asked her as they began walking toward Rose.

When she looked over at her, there was a pleading, sad look in the woman’s eyes.

Cautiously maneuvering her through the foot traffic, Eugenie directed the woman toward the brick walling of the building so they could talk. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure how to put this, but here goes…” Jeanette let go of her suitcase and kicked it behind her, against the wall. “Peter… my father… he wants me to become Rose’s full-time guardian, and if there’s any way to do it, he wants me to be her mother. It’s an odd… I know it’s an odd request, and I don’t wholly agree with it, but…”

The woman looked into her eyes, a pleading peering toward her. “My father probably only has a few weeks or months to live, and as the only person on this planet who is still a direct relative of… of Rose… it’s in her best interest to do as we suggest,” she continued.

A queasiness came over Eugenie, and she had to fight to retain what little she’d eaten earlier. What was this woman talking about? If they had full custody of Rose, would she ever see the girl again?

“I see. Well… I suppose Rose is old enough to decide where she will live. Don’t go expecting me to tell her she has to move out. That was my husband talking, and we’re no longer… we’re not seeing eye to eye on that particular,” she said.

Jeanette grabbed hold of her suitcase again, smiled, and pushed roughly past Eugenie. “Then I guess I’ll have to do things my way, if it all comes down to it. She belongs with her family… and that’s us. And I’m betting she’s missed my father as much as he’s missed her. But until there’s a way to say she’s my daughter, I will not allow her to come and see him,” the woman pronounced before sending an overly sweet smile her way.

With a sigh, Eugenie prayed for wisdom as she followed the woman over to where Rose still stood, awaiting their arrival.

Twenty Five

As she waited for yet another train to finish going past, Rose tried to think of what to say.

She turned just in time to see Jeanette and Eugenie head toward the side of the building, and they were talking now.

Both women seemed upset.

How could this woman… this woman so many years older than she was… be the daughter of her little brother? She knew it, and yet, it had been only a few days since he’d been younger than she.

She had gone through the mirror leaving behind little boys and now, she was the only one left who was still little.

How could Peter be the only remaining part of her family? How could everyone else be someone she’d never met, and her father, Steven, Warren, and Michael all be… gone just like that?

Tears welled in her eyes, and she quickly brushed them away as she saw Jeanette smile weirdly at Miss Eugenie. She grasped her St. St. Peter’s medal and gently rubbed it, saying a silent prayer for wisdom. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “Show me what to do.”

Perhaps this is how her brothers had felt, in some ways, this strange longing and aching inside. The difference is, she’s felt it a few days, and they felt it from the moment she’d left, until they’d died.

All of them but Peter.

Peter had held on.

Little Peter held on? Her sweet little Peter?

Her heart thumped hard, knocking in her chest; her breathing shallowed. Just thinking of him made her want to weep in relief. Peter was alive! And yet… for Steven, Michael, and Warren to be gone, when she’d seen them so recently… it tore at her heart.

A woman with a briefcase bumped into her as she allowed her thoughts to buffet over her. It seemed fitting somehow… people walking all around and she was the only one lost. She’d been lost since she went through the mirror, but poor Peter had to have sensed the same feeling… or had he?

Was he going to even remember her when she got to him? Would he even be alive when she got back to Massachusetts with this woman? This… Jeanette?

She wanted to see him, but something inside of her didn’t trust Jeanette. Would this woman be her only family once Peter died? Because looking at her now, walking toward her, Rose prayed that wouldn’t be the case.

Finally, Rose looked more closely at the woman who was now stopped, standing with Eugenie, talking. What was taking so long?

Jeanette looked like she had the potential to be kind, but very worn out. Rather short, plump and bottom-heavy, she wore a skirt that emphasized the disproportion of her figure. Her eyes were green, and Rose was startled at how similar they were to her own.

But what took her breath away was how her long dark hair was greying around the edges, much as Mother’s had begun to do in her last year of life.

Pain wracked through Rose as she thought of her mother. How could she have forgotten so much about her, so quickly? And yet, somehow, this woman reminded Rose, even if only a little, of what she looked like. Could she seriously ride a train with her and not dwell on a past she could do nothing about?

And what of her new friends?

Could she dare hope that the Iglesias family – Pilar, her younger brothers Neville and Didier, their parents, Padre Juanito and Mama Fifine Noel… even little Mimi – would still be in her life once she was gone? Could something called a computer really help them stay in touch?

Though she never meant to meet them, she couldn’t just walk away now. She couldn’t just say goodbye and have a nice life. Not after all she and her brothers – and even their father – had been through. Pilar was only three months younger than Steven had been when she’d been “transported,” as Edward had called it. Neville, at eleven, and Didier, at eight, would certainly remember her, and even little Mimi… it wasn’t impossible, but who knew?

The women walked toward her, and Rose took a few tentative steps.

Finally, she held out her hand. What else was she supposed to do?

Jeanette took her hand and enveloped it in both of hers.

“Rose, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m not…,” Jeanette said as Rose began to speak. “Hi. So you’re my… my niece, I hear,” she said.

Their words tumbled over and through one another, having spoken simultaneously.

They laughed, as did Eugenie.

It was nervous laughter all the way around.

“I’ve got an idea, ladies,” Eugenie said, smiling. “There’s a Subway not too far from here. Why don’t we go grab some sub sandwiches while we get to know each other, hmmm?”

Well, whatever a Subway was in their context, Rose was glad for it. She couldn’t imagine just standing here talking to this woman who looked like she could be an aunt rather than a niece in such a public place. Maybe they’d have more privacy…
and besides
, she thought,
I am getting hungry. Maybe if we eat, we’ll all feel better.

That had been her mother’s way, too: if there was tension, she would always suggest a meal. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on what was unchangeable.

Her mother was long gone, even if it only felt like a little while to her. Her father, Steven, Warren, and Michael were dead. She’d seen them all so recently it was hard to believe, and yet, here was this woman who looked so much like her; like Peter, and like their mother. Even a little like Father.

Rose realized both of the older women were looking at her. Oh, yes, she had forgotten to answer aloud.

“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go. Anything is better than just standing here.”

After they’d retrieved their sandwiches and found somewhere to sit, Rose finally looked around her.

The walls were covered in what looked like maps, and there were photographs in black and white of what seemed to be the Portland area.

The process of ordering her sandwich had been distracting enough that she hadn’t even thought of what she was going to say to the woman seated across from her.

“Shall we pray,” Eugenie asked, breaking into Rose’s reverie.

Silently bowing her head in compliance, she felt Eugenie’s now-familiar hand in hers as she reached across the table for Jeanette’s. This, at least, was something she knew.

The style of prayer might not be the same, but the rhythm of it; the very action helped her feel more grounded in this new reality that swirled around her like a storm.

“Father,” Eugenie began quietly, “We thank Thee for this, our meal, and for Jeanette’s safe arrival. We seek Your blessing over this meal and conversation. Guide us to make the best possible decision for everyone involved; those present as well as those who weren’t able to be here. You know Your will better than us all,” she said, “so we seek
that
will in Jesus’ mighty name. Amen.”

“Amen,” Rose murmured. She heard Jeanette agree a second behind her.

The woman’s voice sounded familiar, as though she’d known her already. Just the thought of it made a shiver run through Rose as she began to unwrap her turkey sandwich.

Jeanette, on the other hand, waited until the other women had begun to eat before she delicately unwrapped hers and took the first bite. She smiled shyly at Rose.

Maybe there’s more to Jeanette than meets the eye after all
, she thought as she relished the vegetable-laden sandwich she was eating. She didn’t recall when she’d ever had such a good turkey sandwich, if she ever had.

“So, we’ve been looking for you quite a number of years now, Rose,” Jeanette said after they’d all had the first few bites of their sandwiches. She picked up her cola and drank some before continuing. “Now, I realize that for you, it’s only been a few days, or so it would appear. I mean, we don’t know exactly how the… you know what… works, so we aren’t of course sure, but we… um…”

“Yes, it has been a few days. Only a few days,” Rose replied softly; almost weakly. She felt tears welling in her eyes.

Not here; not now; not in front of strangers, and in public.
No!
She sniffed the tears back and sat up straighter.

“But at the same time, I’ve become aware that… I mean… I’m sorry it took so very long for Peter to find me. Believe me, I am. I didn’t want to fall through….” Again, she stopped. Perhaps the restaurant wasn’t the best idea for this conversation. They couldn’t even be free with their words, even if all three of them knew what they were talking about, so far.

Eugenie excused herself to go to the restroom. “I’ll be back in a few moments. I’m sure you two will do fine without me that long,” she said as she awkwardly stood and scooted out of the bench seat. “Just…”

“We’ll be fine, indeed, Miss Eugenie. Don’t you worry,” Rose reassured her; tried to reassure herself. She scooted over to face her niece.

Softly smiling up at the woman who had taken her in, Rose was thankful for her presence in her life at all.

It took until this moment, as she watched Eugenie walking away, for her to realize the mirror could have been any of a number of places far worse off than here… that she could have ended up with someone much less cordial than Eugenie Jeffries.

After wiping her fingers a moment, she fingered her St. St. Peter’s medal and said a silent prayer of thanks.

“I have one, too,” Jeanette said, pulling a similar medal out from beneath her blouse. “It was… this is the one my father, Peter, had on when he was… when you… this is the one you remember, Rose.”

The woman unhooked the necklace and set it gingerly on the table between them. It glittered gently in the light, most of its twinkle gone, but still beautiful.

Could it really be?

With slow movements, Rose tenderly placed her hand over the medal. It was still warm from Jeanette’s body. Reverently closing her eyes, she tried to think of it being warm from her brother’s.

She tried to picture him the last time she saw him happy and unafraid. She felt a smile coming on, and yet… could this really be… Peter’s St. Peter’s medal? The one he’d been wearing that long-ago, awful, strange, wonderful, bizarre, life-changing night?

“May I?”

Rose nodded at the medal, and Jeanette nodded in return just as she saw Eugenie headed back their way. She picked the necklace up and held it closer to get a better look. There had been a nick on the bottom edge of Peter’s medal, and there it was, plain as day.

This really was Peter’s St. Peter’s! The one he’d worn every day since he turned two, other than when Mother had died.

That day, he’d torn it away from his neck in grief and thrown and kicked it about; the only outburst Rose had ever witnessed. And it was that day the medal was dinged.

They never knew for sure what had marred it, but nonetheless, she knew without a doubt this was her brother’s.

It had to be.

“Everything alright,” Eugenie asked her.

Tears silently began rolling down Rose’s cheeks: she hadn’t even realized she had been crying.

Quickly standing, she allowed Eugenie to scoot back in next to her and sat beside her again.

“This medal. You see? There’s this…” She pointed to a small divet along the edge. “This… dent; this… whatever you want to call it. Peter, he… when Mother died, he…”

“Took the thing off and tossed it about,” Jeanette finished for her.

It had to be Peter’s!

Oh, her sweet baby brother, now a ninety year old man. It had to be his!

“Yes,” she said after a few moments, her voice almost a whisper. “When Mother and Sarah Jene died, I think something inside the rest of us died a little, too.”