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Category:
Historical Fiction
Pages: 583
Copyright: 2010
ISBN-13: 9780983298410
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
Book II in the Rose series. Rose continues her adventure in nursing school then as a nurse in Europe in WWII.
Excerpt
1 - Coming Home
Rose Krantz blinked away the tears from her eyes as she stared at her mother Lilly. Lilly stared back, green eyes soft and waiting. Rose was trying to decide where to start after her mother had asked her about her two long years away from home.
Both women were full of questions, of course, but what Lilly really wanted to know was if Rose was home to stay. Rose’s mother would have to wait for her answer, however. Lilly wasn’t in the same hurry as the bright-eyed, seventeen-year-old sitting next to her at the kitchen table.
Actually, that same question loomed in Rose’s mind as well. Rose looked at her mother and sighed.
Here is the woman who gave me life, who fed me, clothed me, watched over me when I was ill, and who almost died while I was away following my dream—a dream it seems only I think is worthwhile following—and already I’m wondering how long can I really stay.
But Rose decided she couldn’t think about that now. Three weeks ago Lilly had come down with pneumonia, and it had almost cost her her life. The guilt of being gone at such a time sent Rose running back home to their farm in southwest Wisconsin.
The women were sitting together in a kitchen that floated in the sweet aroma of pancake syrup mixed with earthy, bitter coffee, remnants of the morning meal. Lilly Mae—Rose’s friend—was sitting quietly next to Rose. Gertrude—Rose’s older sister—was standing at the sink. Dishes were stacked high on the countertop sitting next to a sink of hot, soapy water left hastily by Gerty when she discovered who the two unexpected visitors were.
“We can talk about me later, Mom. How are you feeling? When did you get out of the hospital? I came home because Michael said you where in the hospital.”
“You saw Michael!” Gerty blurted out.
Gerty had been listening covertly though intently for what the two women would say to each other. She anticipated some sharp words between the pair.
It wasn’t as if Rose had just gone off to live with relatives for two years with the family’s permission; she had run away from home. And other than a small note she had left next to the flour jar, she hadn’t let her family know where she was for a good week after she had gone. Even then Rose hadn’t given any details about where she was or who she was with.
“Yah, he was on leave in NeOrlins and we…well, we bumped into each other,” Rose explained, pronouncing New Orleans as any native Louisianian would have done, though she left out the small detail that the meeting took place in a bordello.
“How is he getting on?” her mother asked in her soft Irish brogue. “That boy’s writin’ hand seems ta be broken.” Lilly’s brow tightened with the comment.
“He’s just fine, Mom,” Rose reassured her. “He looks good, and he really seems to like being in the Air Corps.” But Rose’s encouraging words didn’t soften the frown on her mother’s face, so Rose changed the subject. “So how are you feeling?” Rose asked again, setting her hand gently on top of her mother’s.
“I’m doin’ just fine, dear. It was all a big fuss, don’t ya know. I’d a been fine right here at home,” she scolded, “’stead of cartin’ me off to the hospital and runnin’ up such a big bill.”
Gerty turned around from the sink and shook her head behind her mother’s back. Rose’s eyes widened momentarily when she caught sight of her sister’s pantomime. She quickly redirected her attention back to her mother.
“Well, I’m glad you’re home now and feeling better.” Rose said with an affected smile.
“Havin’ my children home is the only sort of medicine I need,” Lilly said looking straight at Rose. She placed her other hand on top of her daughter’s.
“Enough about me, dear. How are you doing? There were a few times there you really had us worried, ya know.”
Rose smiled at her mother and took a long, deep breath. She wasn’t sure how she would sum up two years of life-changing experiences in just a morning’s worth of words. She didn’t know how to explain the slow, inconspicuous, and sometimes arduous process of going from a girl—in this case a tomboy—to a young woman. And Rose was just beginning to understand the complexities of love, loss, and the true meaning of friendship. She didn’t know where to start.
To Rose’s relief, she was temporarily deferred from the task when young bodies and excited voices started to flood into the warm, quiet kitchen.
“Mom!” a young voice called out with a whine as a brown-haired, freckled-faced boy stepped half dressed into the kitchen. “Sean took the last clean pair of underw—” But the boy was unable to complete his sentence when he discovered there were strangers in the room. He hastily disappeared back into the living room, but his curiosity got the better of him; he stuck just his head around the doorjamb to see who these people were. The white girl looked familiar to him, but he had never seen the colored girl before.
“Hi, David,” Rose said to her brother with a soft smile.
David’s mouth dropped open when he finally recognized his sister, and without thinking, he stepped back into the doorway.
Rose was wearing a white rayon blouse and simple, semi-fitted skirt, similar to what the boy might have seen his mother wear to church on Sunday. Her wavy, auburn hair was shoulder length and was sitting neatly on her head, very unlike the sister he remembered who didn’t wear anything but overalls and a cap. But once she had smiled at him, he knew for sure it was Rose.
“David!” Gerty yelled in admonishment. “Go put some pants on!”
David reddened and ran back upstairs, yelling, “Hey, guess who’s home!”
Word spread like wildfire on that sleepy June Monday, so it didn’t take long for more of Rose’s siblings to rush into the room.
Next into the kitchen were Margaret and Katherine, fifteen and thirteen, respectively. Margaret, who had the same wavy hair as Rose but in a light brown shade, was tucking her white cotton shirt into her sackcloth skirt, well-worn saddle shoes still untied. Her freckled face sister, Katie, was holding a small child that Rose knew must be her youngest sibling, Rachel, who had been born seven months after Rose had left home. The two girls beamed when they saw their long-lost sister, though their enthusiasm dampened when they noticed the stranger who sat next to her.
“Hey, Rose!” Margaret finally said, running over to give Rose a hug. “You look really good!”
“Thanks! You look good too!”
Rose stood as Katie and Rachel stepped up next to her.
“Hey, Rose,” Katie said, a bit subdued.
Katie stealthily eyed Rose’s friend as her sister enveloped them both in her arms.
“It’s so good to see you all again,” Rose said as she held them tight.
The small girl in Katie’s arms recoiled at the stranger who wanted to be so close.
“I’m sorry, Rachel.”
Rose stepped away from the pair to give the young child a little room.
“I am just so happy to finally meet you,” Rose said with a twinkle in her eye. The little girl responded with a coy smile. Rose turned toward her mother. “She looks so much like Michael!”
Lilly smiled and nodded in agreement.
Rose was stunned to see how much Rachel resembled her oldest brother, Michael—the dark, wavy hair, the quiet disposition, the well that ran deep behind her dark brown eyes; it was all there.
Then Rose caught John, child number eight, peeking around the doorway. He was only four when Rose had left, so his memory of his sister was a bit vague.
Gerty walked over to John and coaxed him into the room with a gentle nudge. “It’s okay, John. It’s just Rose and her friend, Lilly Mae.”
Sean and David skidded into the room right behind John.
“See, I told ya so,” David said to his twin brother. They were identical twins and had turned nine that spring.
“Hi, Sean!” Rose said walking over to the boys and giving them each a hug. “You’ve both gotten so big!” she said placing a hand on each of their close-shaven heads.
The boys stood a little taller, beaming with satisfaction.
“So ya seen enough stuff? Are you gonna stay home now?” David blurted out.
Rose’s body stiffened, and she felt a sudden warmth envelop her.
“David Patrick! That’s not polite talk,” Rose’s mother scolded. “Your sister just got home.” She gave her son a stern look and whole room fell silent.
As Rose’s siblings stood around waiting for someone to speak, they couldn’t keep their eyes away from the unfamiliar colored girl. Trying not to be impolite and stare, each one of them in turn made quick side glances in her direction. John was the only one who couldn’t keep his eyes off the pretty, brown girl with the perfect, milk chocolate complexion.
Lilly Mae smiled at the small boy. He sheepishly smiled back then stepped a little closer to his brothers. Most of the boys hadn’t seen a colored person up close, and they were torn between staying clear away and wanting to touch her to see if any of her color would rub off. She was a girl, after all.
Rose took a deep breath, enveloping herself in the familiar feeling of family. Now she remembered why she had come. It was like putting on a comfortable pair of overalls—soft and inviting, roomy and unassuming. A person could let oneself go here, dropping all pretense and facades, being accepted for who you were, or who you were changing into, as the case may be.
“I’d like you all to meet Lilly Mae,” Rose said, stepping up next to her friend. “She’s the one I told you all about in my letters. We worked together on the steamboat Capital and the J. S. Deluxe.”
Rose was pleased to have her close friend along and proud to show her a little bit more about herself through her family and her childhood home in the beautiful, rocky hills of Crawford County.
Then, one by one, Rose introduced her younger siblings to Lilly Mae, though introductions were hardly needed. Lilly Mae pretty much knew each family member by name. She and Rose had spent hours talking to each other about their families during their travels along the Mississippi. All she needed was to put names to faces. Each child gave her a polite though timid hello, the boys hardly being heard over a whisper. Then Gerty and Margaret shooed the boys out of the room so the girls could get down to more important matters—finding out what Rose had really been up to.
“So where’s Dad?” Rose asked, as baby Rachel sat in Katie’s lap and played with the waves in Rose’s hair, checking out the pleasant stranger.
“He’s out turkey hunting,” Gerty said from in front of the sink.
“So what’s New Orleans like?” Margaret asked, leaning forward in her seat, eyes wide with anticipation. Katie leaned in closer too so as not to miss a word. “When you wrote and told us you were going to school there, I looked it up in the encyclopedia at school. It sounds like a really neat place!”
“Yah, Miss Turner was happy to hear that you were going to high school,” Katie added.
“And your mother was happy to hear it was a Catholic school,” Lilly said with a wry smile. “Now, tell me about this young man.”
A soft blush appeared on Rose’s face, and without thinking she reached up to fondle the filigreed heart necklace that hung on her milky white neck. She hadn’t taken it off since Malcolm had given it to her last Christmas. The fact that it was his grandmother’s made it that much more special to Rose.
Katie and Margaret leaned in even closer. Gerty even stopped washing the dishes to listen in.
“He’s twenty years old. He’s very polite and kind and always a gentleman. Isn’t he, Lilly Mae?”
Lilly Mae nodded her head in agreement, a slight smirk on her face.
“He works for himself selling people things they might have trouble finding like antique furniture, or old documents. He also shops for people who can’t or don’t have time to shop for themselves.”
“How nice,” her mother said.
I wonder if she would think it was nice if she knew who he shopped for? Rose thought in amusement—namely the women at the cathouse where she lived and worked. He did this because the department stores in New Orleans raised the prices on the things these ladies needed—hose, nightgowns, even simple handkerchiefs—because of what they did for a living, so Malcolm was their buyer, and his markup was considerably less.
“Does he live with his family?”
“He has a small apartment in town, but he watches out for his grandmother who lives in a bayou just west of the city,” Rose explained. “He was raised mostly by his grandmother. His mom died when he was born, and his father wasn’t around much.”
“And Lilly Mae,” Rose’s mother turned toward the quiet girl. “Rose told us in her letters that you have a big family, too.”
Lilly Mae hesitated a moment, not sure what to say to the room full of strangers. “Yes’um. I got eight brothers and sisters like Rose, but I’m the oldest.”
“And Lilly Mae is taking evening classes when she’s not working on the riverboat,” Rose explained, wanting to highlight Lilly Mae’s ambitions.
“Your mother must be proud of ya,” Lilly said. “Going ta school after working all day.”
Lilly Mae nodded in agreement even though that’s not exactly how her mother saw things. Her mother thought Lilly Mae should stay home in the evenings and help her with the children, especially after her husband had left her for good right after she had become pregnant with their ninth child. But Lilly Mae was not the loquacious type, and her tendency to clam up was exaggerated around people she didn’t know, so she didn’t explain further.
“And you’re working too, huh, Rose? You never really did say what you do down there,” Margaret said.
Rose’s cheeks colored again. She hesitated, trying to think of the right words to describe where she worked. She knew she couldn’t tell her younger sisters she worked in a brothel, even though it was just cleaning, some cooking, keeping the madam’s books, and, on rare occasions, helping schedule the patrons. Rose wasn’t even sure her very Irish, Catholic mother would understand. Rose decided she’d give them a simpler explanation.
“Well…I clean and keep the books for a lady who has her own business,” she finally said. “As I mentioned in my letters, she was the one who took me in when Lilly Mae and I got separated on the docks.”
“That was awfully fortunate,” her mother said with a serious tone. “The good Lord was watching after you, young lady.”
Rose smiled. “Yes, I think he was.”
“And I was sorry to hear about your elderly friend, what was her name?”
“Grandma B”
“That’s right! I was sorry to hear that she had died,” her mother said. “It sounds like she took good care a ya too.”
“Yah, she was pretty special. Wasn’t she, Lilly Mae?”
Yeah, in a sandpaper sort a way, Lilly Mae thought to herself, but she just nodded her head in agreement. Lilly Mae hadn’t gotten as close to Grandma B as Rose had since she hadn’t stayed in the Ville in St. Louis with Grandma’s family as Rose had done. She didn’t get to see her apparent softer side.
Just then the kitchen door swung open.
“Look who the cat dragged in!” came a deep, booming voice.
Rose jumped out of her chair and ran over to her father, Karl, who stood in a green-and-black checked, wool shirt, dark brown pants, and stocking feet—he had learned long ago to leave his dirty boots out on the porch. Rose wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed with all her might. The scent of the cool outdoors and the roughness of his unshaven face were exactly how she remembered him. The tall, thin man didn’t say a thing. He just stood there with his arms wrapped around his favorite girl. Though he too noticed that Rose had changed. She wasn’t his little girl anymore.
When Rose let go of her embrace, she took his hand and led him over to Lilly Mae.
“Pop, this is my good friend, Lilly Mae.”
Lilly Mae stood and shook his hand. “Nice ta meet ya, sir,” she said, barely meeting his gaze.
“Nice to finally meet you,” he said with obvious sincerity. “Seems you were an awful good friend to our Rose, and we appreciate that.”
The two girls looked at each other and smiled. Then Karl turned his attention back to Rose. A broad grin seeped across his face.
“I think our Rose grew up on us, mother.” “Yes, I think she has.” Lilly smiled knowingly
at Rose.
“There’s still some batter left, Dad, if you want some pancakes,” Gerty chimed in.
“I’ll get it for you, dear,” Lilly said, and with some effort she started to stand.
This made Rose realize that her mother hadn’t gotten up since they had stepped into the kitchen over an hour ago. That was very unlike her.
“No, I’ll get it,” Rose interrupted. “Lilly Mae and I haven’t eaten either, so I’ll make some for all of us.”
Both parents were amazed at their daughter’s willingness and aptitude as she moved about the kitchen; this was something that she hadn’t left home with. In fact, her mother had given up trying to teach Rose even the most rudimentary cooking skills. Lilly had decided Rose would eventually learn with the trial-by-fire method when she had a family of her own to take care of. And she would be there to help put out the flames.
Rose opened the kitchen cupboard to put on an apron, went to the woodstove, and threw in a few extra pieces of wood to heat the cast iron pans that sat on top of it, then moved about the kitchen as if she owned it. It took only a few wrong guesses at where the kitchen supplies were, and soon steaming hot pancakes and pork sausage sat in front of her father and Lilly Mae.
The newcomers enjoyed a long, leisurely breakfast, with the boys filtering back in now and again to catch some of the stories of Rose’s work on the riverboats, of her time in St. Louis, and her present life in New Orleans. Rose managed to leave out the details of the assault her first night on the riverboat, almost bleeding to death in front of the black nightclub in St. Louis, and the police raid on Madam E’s bordello in New Orleans. But amongst all the other colorful stories and gay experiences, there was a question that still hung in the air like a giant, white elephant but was never answered: Are you home to stay?
“Enough of all this here chatterin’. You girls must be wantin’ ta get outta those travelin’ clothes and into somethin’ a little more comfortable,” Rose’s mother suggested, standing with the help of Karl’s hand in hers. “David, take the girls’ cases up to Rose and Gerty’s room, please,” she said, pointing up the stairs.
“Yah, I’d like to show Lilly Mae around the farm!” Rose said with enthusiasm. “But we need to help clean up first,” she continued, as she started to clear the table.
“We can handle it, Rose,” Gerty assured her. “We’ll get you working soon enough.”
Rose smiled and squeezed Gerty’s hand, and for a moment, Rose forgot her suppressed desire to leave. It did feel good to be home again.
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