Rose for Rose: Book Two in the Angels' Mirror Series (22 page)

“Welcome back to the conversation,” Paloma teased him with a smile. Jeanette smiled, too, but hers made him want to shiver in dread.

How was it that she bragged about how awesome her husband was to him, then denigrated him in front of the pair of them and kept making eyes at him, as though they were both single?

Something wasn’t adding up.

“So, as I was saying,” Paloma began, “I think it would be a good idea to have Rose stay here in Portland for a few weeks a year, at the least. She’s grown attached to Eugenie, and Eugenie to her. Not only that, but she’s made a friend close to her age, and friends with the girl’s family. I don’t see why you’re making a big deal of this. We’re not trying to “steal her away” from you, Jeanette. We’re trying to do what’s best for her.”

“And I said no. Three times, I’ve said no. She’s
my
daughter now… that paperwork says so. If you wanted her to stay here part of the time, you shouldn’t have had your friend give me power of attorney and guardianship and write Rose up as my long-lost daughter… especially if you didn’t know the facts. Because she’s the age my daughter would be, wherever she is, Rose will have to do. And I’ll expect her to behave like a good girl. Just like Arabella, she’ll have chores and things I will expect of her, and she’ll have restrictions like Arabella does, too,” the woman said in a rush.

Her words were so fast, Edward had to concentrate in order to keep up with what she was saying.

“Rose is no longer a Wishart-Laurent. She’s a Moore… at least in my book. Now that we’ve got paperwork, I can take her in for the name change right away.”

“I think you’re forgetting something,” Edward said, trying to interject some reality into the conversation. Petunia jumped from his lap and headed to her water bowl.

Jeanette looked at him with narrowing eyes, but Paloma’s eyes widened. “And what’s that?”

“It could take several weeks before Justice can get all of Rose’s paperwork into the system without anyone questioning it. When he helped me, I think it was… what, oh, Coeur de Mon Coeur,” he asked, turning to face his wife, “close to five weeks?”

His wife nodded in assent, a beaming smile on her face. “Sounds about right,” she replied jovially.

“Five…? Five weeks? You’ve got to be kidding me? How am I going to pass off that… that girl…? I don’t care if she is my aunt in reality… I don’t care. If I can’t legally change her name to my own and prove she’s mine, how will I face Simon? How will I face my friends and church and my co-workers?”

“I guess that’s for you to figure out. You’re the one that insisted she leave with you right away, Mrs. Moore,” he said, laughter bubbling inside of him.

Dear Lord, help me to at least wait until she’s gone to get this laughter out. Now is not the time!

“Well, I never,” she said, her voice raised, even as she rose from her seat. “Rose,” she called. “It’s time to go. We’re heading back to my hotel room. Now!”

Within a few moments, a forlorn-looking Rose came into the kitchen, a finger bookmarking the place she was at in her book. Behind her, Lindsay and the twins came bustling in.

Don’ go, Wosie,” Chosen said, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “Don’ go. We’w miss you!”

“We’w miss you,” Duncan reiterated with a nod, his little face scrunching up like he was about to bawl.

“I’m sorry. I want to stay here with you guys. I do,” Rose said quietly, glancing between them and Jeanette. “But I have to go, at least for now.” With her free hand, she gently squeezed first Duncan’s shoulder, then Chosen’s before giving Lindsay a brief hug.

The boys grabbed hold of her legs and began to sob.

“Bu… bu we’w… we’w miss you, Wosie! Don’ go,” Edward heard Duncan say, his words punctuated by sobs.

His heart broke for the children, even as he sensed a loss himself at this parting.

“I’ll bring her back by to say goodbye one more time, really soon, kids,” Jeanette said, her voice sweet like sugar. Her tone was higher than when she’d spoken to anyone else. “It won’t be long. You’ll see her again, but we need to get going. The hour is late…”

She towered over the children as she disentangled Rose from their midst, grabbed her purse, and, still holding Rose’s arm, headed for the front door.

“Listen… Edward, Paloma, I appreciate your concern; I really do. But she’s my responsibility now, and I will deal with her as I see fit. I’m not coldhearted; I’ve just lived enough of life to know that my father has little time, and now that his sister’s been found, you want to keep her from him. And that isn’t right…” There was genuine concern in the woman’s eyes as she spoke, her head held high, erasing one of her chins momentarily.

“Well, we’ll talk about it later; it just seems we all want what’s best for our loved ones, and what we think best doesn’t line up all along the way. When you come by again, we’ll discuss it, alright,” Paloma said softly, touching Jeanette on the hand she was holding Rose’s arm with and patting it.

“Fine,” the woman replied as she rushed Rose out the door. “Fine,” she said again. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Thirty One

Paloma sighed in relief once the door closed behind their guests. After the children were all down for the night, she and Edward could finally talk about what to do with the new information about Quentin.

How could the man just show up again after all this time, demanding to become part of her life… part of her family’s lives?

There was no way it would happen.

It couldn’t!

Behind her, she heard Edward talking to Duncan. “Chosen already went to bed, buddy, and even Cherish is in her crib. Are you sure you aren’t tired?”

As she turned around, weary and exhausted, she watched her young son shake his head no, with vigor.

“Not tiowd, Daddy. Long nap to-way” he said. “And wan Wosie hewe…” he added after a few moments, dipping his eyes toward the ground.

Paloma smiled as she watched Edward swoop the boy up into his arms like he was flying. Suddenly, the Superman pajamas were much more fitting.

“Mama and I miss Rosie, too, Son… we’re sorry it was so hard today,” Edward said as he flew their son away. “But you heard Miss Jeanette… we’ll see Rose again before she has to go bye-bye,”

Petunia followed Edward as he carried the boy, arms out to fly, toward his room. Paloma moved behind them at a slower pace, just listening.

“And as for not being tired, you know what? Even superheroes like Superman need their sleep, Duncan. So how about I tuck you in and then read you a quick little story to help you settle in for the night. Will that help?”

She could see Edward’s smile as he spoke, their son coming in for a landing on his little twin bed. Her heart squeezed in her chest as she thought about how wonderful he was as a father.

Thank You, Father, for allowing Edward to stay with us. Thank You his surgery was a success
, she prayed for about the thousandth time.

With a nod, Duncan allowed himself to be tucked in. Petunia Grace lithely jumped to the foot of his bed and curled up. When the little boy saw her, he tried to scrunch down and reach her, but then the cat jumped down again, purring and rrrowling.

Finally, Paloma had to laugh.

And it felt good.

She’d needed a good release of laughter since the day began, with all the new changes happening, but it just hadn’t happened.

How a persnickety but sweet and all-over-you cat and a cheerful little boy in
Superman
attire could not help someone laugh was beyond her. It did her in, and she was thankful for it. She was also thankful Edward had been able to redirect the boy’s thoughts toward sleep and away from the disturbing scene earlier in the evening when Rose had to leave.

Edward looked up and held out a hand toward her. “You want to come read, or you want to find his teddy bear,” he asked, laughter in his voice.

“I’ll look for the bear,” she said with a smile, since Edward already had a book chosen. It looked like the same Bible story book Tawny had been reading out of earlier in the day.

Bless Tawny’s heart for being here for so long. She had to be exhausted, staying the extra four hours to watch the boys when Jeanette had come over and they’d said their goodbyes to Rose
.

They’d see the girl off, of course, but figured it best to say what they had to before there was a bigger audience.

Once the story was read and Duncan was finally asleep, Edward took her by the hand into their bedroom. It was their sanctuary away from the rest of the world around them.

With a sigh of relief, he knelt down and helped her off with her shoes before taking his own off. Then, he took out their Bible and set it on the nightstand as she headed for a quick shower.

“I’ll be out in a few minutes,” Paloma said, gathering up her things within moments. Hopefully they could both be ready for bed in twenty or thirty minutes, and they could really talk before doing their devotions for the evening.

Edward turned toward her from where he was opening the bureau, and smiled.

Poor guy. He looked so tired; she worried about him. With his heart, he really should be taking things a bit easier.

Thank God the day was almost over, and a new one would begin. This one had been harder than she could have ever been prepared for, and she figured Edward felt about the same way, gauging from the look on his face.

Quickly flipping on the light switch, Paloma set her things down on the counter to prepare for her shower. When she looked at her face in the mirror, she noticed her skin was flushed. It was difficult to keep her eyes open.

How had it all come to this?

First Rose’s arrival through the mirror, then Mark and his oddball behavior and rudeness to his wife, then Quentin coming back while she was signing over a lot of the company responsibility to Mariana… it was all too much.

“Who does God think I am, Super Woman,” she whispered, studying her face a few more moments, her fingers tracing the bags that were starting to form underneath her eyes.

Yet, just the thought of Quentin Quimby being back in town made her skin crawl. And after hearing what he’d done to Tom the night before when Tawny had called to tell Edward of the contact, she wasn’t sure how well either of them might hold things together around the man.

He was rude, mean, dangerous, and irresponsible. During the last several months they’d known him before he’d moved away to California with Lovan, that was Quentin on a good day.

Paloma quietly double checked that the door was all the way shut and prepared her water, hoping and praying that things would be better the next day.

“Lord,” she prayed quietly, “how is it that Quentin is back? What prompted him to come back into our lives? Please… don’t allow his threats to come to fruition. Put Your loving arms around us, cover us in the shelter of Your wings, surround us with Your angels. Do something, O God. Protect and keep us from harm from this man, or anyone associated with him, Father! Watch over sweet little Lovan and keep him safe during this time when his father is acting so… irrational. Please make something beautiful out of his life, despite all he’s been through with Quentin, wherever they’ve been and whatever has happened,” she continued, looking into the mirror as steam formed in the room and her hair began to wilt.

“Father, help Edward and I to know what to do. Give us wisdom, and not just protection, I pray, in Jesus’ mighty name, amen,” she concluded as she stepped into the shower.

It would still be a long and emotional night; she could feel it deep within. But at least now she had a sense of peace that had eluded her since the moment she’d heard Quentin’s voice on the line.

She had to trust that, come what may, God had their backs and everything was in His control. She had to believe God’s promise that all things would work together for their good.

Thirty Two

Saint-Germain-en Laye, France… August 17, 1695

Mary walked along the linden circle with Roisin, her thoughts preoccupied. It seemed neither of them were in much of a talkative mood, for her new friend had said nothing for over twenty minutes.

She was glad for the silence.

A day and a half had passed since the mirror was purchased. A day since it had left carefully enfolded in blankets in the back of a wagon following its new owner the many miles back to his city.

Its new owner, Sir Gaspar Delacroix Aiton of Perpignan, seemed a right cheerful fellow, and seemed to show an interest not only in the mirror, but in Roisin.

When it became apparent that the woman didn’t share the sentiment, it had given Mary hope that they could find a good match for her, and it showed her likability. She hoped her efforts in preparing Roisin for the masque had paid off, and it looks like it may have… but who was to know for certain until a deal was made?

She was just glad the mirror was headed to a new home, and Roisin had listened to her heart.

How many days it would take Sir Gaspar to arrive back home with his newly acquired treasure was anybody’s guess, James had told her. At least a couple of weeks, since he was so close to the coastline, but time would tell. The kind young man promised to write them a letter when he arrived home safely to let them know, and she, for one, looked forward to it.

Her thoughts turned to the letter she had slipped into a secret little slot in the mirror and prayed that somehow, some way, it would reach their dear Edward. There wasn’t any way to know for sure, and it unsettled her, but she had done all she knew to do. Silently praying to Mary and Jesus, she nearly bumped into Roisin, who had stopped walking at just that moment.

“Is… is anything wrong,” she asked the woman.

“Me apologies, Milady, I just… I thought I saw someone else walking out here and I wasn’t sure if… well, I didn’t ken if… it could be that man from the party the other night? He was really very… forward!”

A blush reached up from the woman’s pale neck and rose to the root of her hair, which was pulled back into a bun.

With a quick glance around, Mary finally spotted the gentleman in question. She knew that her husband’s acquaintance, Maurice Beausoleil, worked for King Louis as one of Françoise’s guards. She knew, too, that he had approached Mrs. Mac Bradaigh and asked her to dance four times during the masked ball.

The final of the four requests finally garnered a “yes,” and in the end, it seems she liked him as much as he, her, even with their faces partially covered.

“Yes, that’s Mr. Beausoleil,” she heard herself reply, a smile coming to her face.

With a jerky movement, she raised her skirts and started in his direction, just outside the circle of trees toward the château. She heard Roisin hurry to follow suit, and soon, they were facing him together.

Though Maurice Beausoleil had always reminded Mary of a bear, he was actually a very gentle man, as far as she had ever known. His size was indeed intimidating though, and for that reason, she had steered clear of him whenever possible.

Now, she wondered if she hadn’t been too hasty in her efforts to avoid his presence.

“Good day, Monsieur,” she said as he smiled down at them. She held her hand out, and he kissed it. Soon, he was kissing Roisin’s hand, and Mary noticed he lingered there a second or two beyond protocol.

He definitely liked the woman, and Mary didn’t have to wonder why.

She was attractive, and still young enough to bear children, possibly. She would make some man a wonderful wife, as long as she allowed herself to be.

“My apologies if I startled you, Ladies,” he began, straightening his brown tunic as he spoke. Mary noticed he was shuffling his feet in place, and wondered at his nerves.

“I… I just came by since it was my half-day off to see… well, I wondered if Miss Roisin here,” he said, his voice getting quieter and quieter. “I wondered, Miss Roisin,” he began again, his voice steadier and heartier now, “if you would like to go for a walk to the chapel with me to talk. If I’m not interrupting anything, of course, Lady Mary,” he said quickly, glancing at her, then moving his eyes back to look at Mrs. Mac Bradaigh.

Mary glanced at her friend briefly before saying anything.

The woman’s face spoke volumes: still flushed, timid, and delighted. It looked like she was doing all she could not to throw her arms around the man’s neck and scream a “yes” at him.

Mary chuckled. “I think that decision is up to the woman herself. So, Mrs. Roisin Mac Bradaigh… what do you say? Mr. Beausoleil is a fine mannered gentleman, as far as I have heard. I don’t see any harm done as long as you aren’t alone with him anywhere indoors.”

A smile widened across Maurice’s large handsome face, and his chins shook just a little as he straightened even more.

“In that case, Mary,” Roisin said, “I believe I will accept. On one condition, Mr. Beausoleil,” she said, turning toward him.

“And what is this?” He smiled down at her.

“Always treat me kindly.”

“But of course! Forever if you will allow me. That’s…” He stopped short, and his face turned ruddy in a flash.

Was the man so smitten he was going to propose to this woman he’d only spent a half hour with,
Mary wondered, a thrill going through her. Now that would be interesting, if they got together.

And so soon!

“Excuse me, my deepest apologies,” he said. “My mouth and head ran away from me a moment.” He smiled again and held out his arm to Roisin. After she took it, Mary excused herself from their presence to give them privacy and allow herself to think.

Why was so much happening, so quickly?

It seemed that in the last week, time had moved faster than she’d ever known it. So much had occurred, she knew there was no way a week would normally contain it.

She must think, and she must pray.

As she walked back to the linden circle, she wandered in and out of the trees like a maze. She really should check in with Miss Lourdes on how the children were doing, but could she trust Roisin would be alright with Maurice alone; even alone on the grounds, just going a few hundred yards?

Mary joyfully watched the pair from the sitting room window as they returned from their walk. As they approached the walkway to head to the château, Maurice stopped and placed his large hands on Roisin’s shoulders for a few moments as he spoke.

“Oh, I wish I knew what they were talking about,” she said aloud to nobody in particular.

“Beg pardon, Madam,” someone said behind her.

She turned to see one of the footmen sitting near the door, some paper in hand.

“What are you doing, sneaking up on someone like that? Don’t you know it isn’t polite, and in this household, it very well could cost you your job,” she said, her voice a teasing scold.

“My apologies, Madam, but I have word for you from le Marquise de Maintenon,” the man said quietly, holding the pages out toward her.

It was only then that Mary saw the seal upon the parchment, and she nodded in assent.

“You may come in long enough to pass the letter to me. I sincerely hope you’re getting all of your duties done, Michel,” she said.

The lanky blonde man came forward, pressed the letter to her hands, and rushed back outside. Within moments, before Mary could even begin to read the contents of the missive, Miss Roisin came in.

“Can we talk,” the woman asked. “There’s something I wanted to get a second opinion on from my conversation with the delightful Mr. Beausoleil.”