Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they're here to stay
Oh I believe in yesterday
Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be
There's a shadow hanging over me
Oh yesterday, came suddenly
-The Beatles
A week ago she was here. My Rosalie sitting on a chaise with my little
Henry balanced on her knee. He was playing with the little, wooden
train his father made for him. Rosalie smiled as she watched him play.
The chair was empty now… as I also was empty.
A week passed; with no sign of dear sweet Rose, save from her hat, cast aside a few blocks from her father's house, blown into a nearby tree. Strands of my Rosalie's beautiful golden hair clung to the hat, ripped from their roots. Her hat was torn from her head. One lowly hat was the only lead the police had. Noone knew the rest of Rosalie's story. What happened to my darling friend?
The absolute worst part of this hideous course of events was not knowing what fate befell Rose.
At times I felt numb, it was the only way I could protect myself from the pain.
I neglected my feelings, allowing myself to die inside. I moved mindlessly through my days. My nights were punctuated with excruciating nightmares.
One might call them nightmares, only I was awake most of the time. Waking dreams? Terrible, wicked visions? What did the name matter? Rosalie's absence was a shadow hanging over me. Rosalie was my only thought. The rest of my days I was a ghost, an automaton, a stranger.
Not a word. Not a soul knew what happened to Rosalie. There must be one who knew; some vile, detestable individual, the one who took my Rose from me. I clenched my hands into fists. If I knew Rosalie's abductor I would kill him myself.
Every time I stared at the empty chair I could not help feeling the aching pain in my chest, the twisting sickness in my gut. Every time I gazed at the hideously, disturbingly empty chair I recalled our last conversation as if it were yesterday.
Yesterday, happiness swirled around us as the cherry blossoms of spring whipped from their trees and caught on a warm breeze. It felt like yesterday when my Rose was last here. Yesterday her entire world was laid out ahead of her. Rose nearly had everything she ever wanted. Nearly?
I choked on the sobs that leapt from my chest. Had I resigned myself to her fate? Was she doomed? Was my sweet darling Rosie doomed? Was it over now? Had I given up hope?
Still weeping, I became FURIOUS with myself.
How DARE I deign to hope? How DARE I fail to hope? What was I to do? I could never give up on my Rosalie.
I needed to get out of this house. I decided to take Henry for a walk.
I neglected Henry's carriage and opted to carry him in my arms instead. In such horrible times I felt the need to keep my son close to my heart always.
The sun was shining; the weather was warm. All told I supposed it would be considered a beautiful day, only a raincloud seemed to follow me wherever I went. Bird song filled the air with music. Rosalie loved days such as these.
I stopped in my tracks. Today was the day Rosalie intended to marry Royce King the Second, handsome son of the bank owner. Rose was deliriously happy when she came to call on me a week ago.
Most struggled in these crushing economic times. "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself," President Roosevelt said. But most families were wise to fear they would be unable to keep bread on their table. The Hale family was absolutely enthralled their daughter would not have to endure such hardships.
Rosalie's future as the wife of the bank owner's son would be secure, her children would lack nothing. She would be gifted with riches beyond her wildest dreams. A lavish home, jewelry, flowers in every room, servants to cook and clean after her.
Not only was Royce King the Second wealthy, he was also handsome, his hair the fairest shade of blonde, his eyes pale blue. Rosalie boasted they would have the most beautiful children together. Rosalie Hale's life was written straight from the pages of a fairytale. How suddenly things turned dark and sinister!
It seemed like yesterday Rosalie came call. I remember well, the flush in her cheeks as she regaled me with the planned details of her extravagant wedding.
"Roses on every pew… and violets!" She exclaimed. "Violets just like the ones Royce sends me because they remind him of my beautiful eyes."
I smiled for my friend. I couldn't imagine a person more worthy of such a beautiful prosperous future. Rosalie was a saint. She always brought candy to the children in the orphanage she visited every week. The children loved her. Henry loved her.
Children! I was instantly flooded with memories of my last conversation with Rose.
I remembered as if it were yesterday, Henry balancing on Rosalie's knee, while she and I spoke of children. Rosalie could hardly wait to start a family of her own. We hoped to be pregnant at the same time and both wanted to have girls. Rosalie's daughter would be Henry's perfect match. They would fall madly in love, marry at seventeen, and we would become family -- officially. My second child, a daughter, would be both a sister to Henry and a best friend to Rosalie's daughter – just as Rosalie was always to me.
Grief and anguish were renewed as I recalled our plans. Would Rosalie have a future? Was everything taken away from her? New tears flooded my eyes.
It was painful not knowing what happened to Rose. Would it be easier to find my sweetest friend dead and know her suffering was over? Or would I rather cling to hope and picture my friend huddling in some dark basement, abused and mistreated? I could picture Rosalie: her hair rough, face hard, hating her abductor, longing for her escape. Could the monster possibly still be holding her captive?
"Oh Rose!" I cried out as hot tears assaulted my cheeks once more.
I was pulled from my disturbing thoughts when Henry smacked me in the forehead with his chubby hand. Having caught my attention my darling son grinned at me flashing his dimples.
Suddenly I realized I was still standing on the side of the street. I was carried away by my thoughts! In the same moment I noticed a flash, a gleam of gold color, from the corner of my eye. I quickly looked around me to see if someone nearby dropped something, but Henry and I were alone.
Curious, I stooped to investigate the source of this curious reflection. I picked up the brilliant shiny item and turned it over in my hand. It was a brass button. I gasped suddenly and the shiny button slipped from my hand and bounced in the street. I knew this button. It belonged to Rosalie!
Hearing the clink of the button hitting the street, I quickly dropped to my knees. I set Henry beside me, and I groped with both hands searching for the lost button. When I located my treasure, I was surprised to notice another just like it sitting beside it. I quickly combed the area and found a third and fourth button. I gathered the brass buttons in my hands and stared at them for a moment. I quickly put them in my pocket and retrieved Henry, placing him once more on my hip.
I remembered Rosalie's jacket well. It was a gift from her fiancé: A blue velvet jacket frock with brass buttons. It looked like something Katharine Hepburn would wear; it was very modern. Rosalie was so proud of her gift.
I shored up hope. Previously, these clues were likely concealed by the snow that fell when Rose went missing. Did I dare to hope these clues would help the police find Rosalie's abductor? Is it possible we might bring this horrible man to justice?
My mind turned to grim thoughts once more. We should be celebrating Rosalie's wedding today, yet we did not even have the comfort of mourning her death. Noone knew what happened to Rosalie. Was my friend suffering? Or was she dead? Not knowing was the worst part. I hoped it would not be much longer before they found my dearest friend.
I changed course and walked hastily towards the police department with evidence in my pocket.
********
NOTE: Stephenie Meyer owns the Twilight Series from which the story is inspired and from which the characters and basic storyline for this composition have been derived.
References: Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse, and Yesterday by the Beatles.