Most of the other children were already gone. A few lingered, talking in small groups. They were older, and they seemed to have a purpose about them. Sylvia knew she was the only one waiting for someone. The others walked home by themselves. She envied them, frightened though she was by the idea of setting out alone.
Sylvia tried to keep herself occupied. He was only a few minutes late, after all. There was no need to worry. She turned the pages of her book. The words blurred together. She kept it open anyway; holding it was reassuring. She didn't look up when Grace approached. She stared at her book silently, ignoring this semi-stranger. If she ignored her long enough, Sylvia reasoned, she would go away.
"Hello again," Grace said. Her smile was too bright. Sylvia stiffened when she sat down next to her. "You don't have to be afraid," Grace went on. "We've met, remember? I know your father."
"I know."
"Are you waiting for him?"
"Yes," Sylvia said grudgingly.
Grave clucked her tongue. "He's late, isn't he? He should know better than to leave you alone like this. Anything could happen."
Sylvia snuck a glance at Grace. Her words were unsettling, though she wasn't sure why. She didn't look threatening. Her voice wasn't angry or cold. All the same, Sylvia felt a threat coming from her. It was stronger now. This woman was someone to be avoided.
"I didn't say that to make you nervous," Grace said.
Sylvia held her head up defiantly. "I'm not."
"Good then. Has he said anything about me?"
"No. Why would he?"
"I don't know," Grace replied. "I just thought maybe he told you how we know one another."
"No."
"I know he didn't always live with you and your mother," Grace said in a confidential tone. Sylvia stared at her as if the statement had no meaning. "He lived with me first," Grace explained.
Sylvia wanted to ask why. She wanted to know why these things were being said. She wanted to say she didn't believe it. Jack would never prefer anyone to Rose, especially not this woman with her cold eyes. She remained silent, though. She was afraid to speak. The words wouldn't come out right. She might cry. Where was he?
"I'll leave you to wait," Grace said. Sylvia glared in response. She rounded the corner just as Jack appeared, coming from the other direction. He hurried toward Sylvia. "I'm so sorry," he said, dropping down next to her. "Are you alright?" Sylvia nodded. "You sure?" he asked. He looked her over before hugging her tightly.
Sylvia was glad when he picked her up off the ground. The fear was gone. She felt untouchable in his arms. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said. "Really, I am. I won't let that happen again. You shouldn't be out here by yourself."
"What happened?" she asked.
"A meeting at work that lasted a lot longer than it was supposed to. I couldn't leave. I know it doesn't help," Jack said. "I know you were probably scared. I—"
"I wasn't afraid," she said. "I knew you'd get here, sooner or later. You wouldn't just leave me."
Jack shook his head. "No, I wouldn't," he said. "I'd never leave you. I love you, Syl." Sylvia had already decided not to tell about her encounter with Grace. It would only cause problems. "You know that, right?" he added.
"I know," she said. "I love you too."
"Shall we go home?"
She nodded. "Let's."
….
Rose wound yarn into a ball. It was soft, just right for a baby. When Sylvia was born she hadn't known how to knit. She hadn't made anything for her. All of her things came secondhand, even when she used Cal's money. Rose could only bring herself to spend a little of it at a time, and Sylvia outgrew clothes so quickly anyway. She did embroider her name on a few things. Her blanket said "Sylvia" in pretty, carefully done letters.
Things would be different for this baby. It wasn't fair, Rose thought. Why did this child get both parents right from the start? Why did this one get the stable home with enough money and new clothes and a room of its own? A mother who wasn't guilty or worried all the time?
There wasn't any point thinking about it, she told herself. Jack sat in his usual chair, drawing. Sylvia was on his lap. They talked in low voices. Rose couldn't see the drawing, but she saw how intently they looked at it. She smiled, glad yet again Jack was there.
Rose picked up the needles and began knitting. First a blanket and then a hat, maybe a sweater. Definitely socks. Her heart fluttered at the thought of the tiny socks she would have to make. Her children would have everything. Those early years of deprivation would fade from memory. Sylvia might even forget life before Jack. Rose almost hoped she would. Despite what they'd said, she worried Sylvia would feel different from the new baby or jealous. Part of her feared she would love her more because of the time they spent alone, the struggle to keep her and care for her. It wasn't a fear Rose acknowledged. Mothers love all their children the same, she reminded herself, or they should.
She thought of her own mother more and more now. The letter had been sent, but no reply had arrived yet. Rose dreaded its coming. She could already hear Ruth's voice, reproachful and hurt. The disappointment she caused by running away would never end. Rose wondered if it would have been so bad if there had been other children for Ruth to focus her attention on. How many times had she heard Ruth sigh, "If only I had a son"?
Rose hated this longed-for-brother. She always had. She didn't like thinking about it. If he existed, or if she had been a boy, everything would have been better. There was no mistaking Ruth's meaning, or the way she looked at Rose and sighed again, as if to say, "If I can only have a daughter, why can't she be better?"
Rose swore to never be that way with her children. She would never make them feel less than or burden them with guilt. She would never be disappointed in them for choosing happiness.
…..
Ruth was afraid to open the letter. Rose's handwriting was unmistakable. She hadn't expected Rose to actually write back. If anything, she expected another letter from Jack, apologizing and explaining Rose preferred not to see her after all.
Mother, it began. Ruth bristled at this. Was a proper address too much for Rose now? Had she lived among the lower classes so long she had forgotten everything she'd been taught about etiquette? Ruth read on.
I was rather surprised when Jack told me he'd written to you. I was even more shocked when he showed me your letters. I never expected to hear from you again. My last words to you were "Good-bye", and for a long time I meant them completely. I had to cut off my old life. I couldn't risk any attempt to bring me back. I was through with that world and everyone in it. The girl I was before really was dead, the way all the newspapers claimed. I made a new life with a new name, and I tried to forget everything that happened before.
Now I'm not sure that was the right choice. I had to go; there was no other way, but perhaps I should have written to you sooner. It wasn't fair to let you believe I was dead. I see that now. I just didn't want to risk being pulled back in. I knew what you would say if we met again, especially if it was too soon.
You shouldn't blame Jack for my running away and not marrying Cal. I never wanted that life. I couldn't stand him. He was awful. Couldn't you see that? Did you never see how miserable I was, or did you think I would get over it eventually?
I wouldn't have, and I knew it. I would have died if I stayed. I might have done it to myself. I certainly wanted to. You never knew that, did you?
All Jack did was help me admit my life had to change. He never forced me into anything. He's the most wonderful man I've ever known. He's one of the best things that's ever happened to me. Sylvia is the other, so far.
I do want her to meet you. She deserves that, and so do you. If you're willing, I'm re-extending Jack's invitation to come and stay with us. We have plenty of room.
Rose.
Memories of Rose came rushing back as she read. It was as if it just happened. Her grief was fresh again, inconsolable.
…..
"What have you been doing lately?" Marie asked. "I feel like I haven't seen you in years. There was your dinner, of course, but we didn't get to really talk. How are you, Rose? Tell me everything."
"I'm not sure where to start," Rose replied. "You know I haven't gotten another job. I decided to take some time for myself, to write, and for the family as well."
"How are things with Jack?"
Rose smiled. "They're perfect. No, I shouldn't say that. Nothing's perfect. They are fantastic, however. I didn't know I could be this happy. It's like when we first met, only—" She searched for the word. "Better," she finished. It was the closest she could come to describing it.
Marie smiled slightly. "I'm glad it's going well."
"I knew you were worried, right up until I married him," Rose said. "You don't have to worry. I appreciate it. It's nice knowing someone cares about us."
"You two will always be important to me."
"You're like family," Rose said. "You know that. I don't have any, really, and I've always thought of you as the older sister I didn't have."
Marie kept her expression light. She was an expert at hiding her feelings. "Yes, like a sister," she said.
"That's why I want you to know, we're having another baby," Rose said. "I'm pregnant."
"Already?" Marie said, astonished. "You just got married. It's only been a few months. Isn't it a little soon?"
"For another couple, maybe, but not for us," Rose said. "We've lost so much time already. I want more children, and so does Jack. We're able to do it now. We have the money. He had a great job, and I can take care of the babies and still write."
"It sounds like you have everything figured out," Marie said. "What does Sylvia think?"
"We haven't told her yet. I only found out last week. We're waiting for the right time. I'm sure she'll take it well. We've talked about the possibility of having more children."
"And she's still getting along with Jack?" Marie asked.
"Of course. She adores him. They're always together. It's almost like he was here the whole time."
In her happiness, Rose didn't realize anything she was saying might hurt her friend. It never occurred to her Marie might feel replaced—and easily so, at that. Marie was glad Rose was happy. She wanted her to be. She wanted everything good for them. But she missed them at the same time. The house was silent and empty now.
…
Rose was already settled into bed when Jack came in. She had a book propped on her knees. "You feel alright?" he asked.
"Fine," she said brightly.
"You sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. You aren't going to be overprotective now, are you Jack?"
"Me?" he said. "Never. I don't care what happens to you."
"Of course you don't." Rose kissed him as she got into bed. "I wouldn't expect anything else," she added.
"You'll tell me if you need anything?" he said.
"I'll tell you." Rose lay against him, his arms around her. She put her hand over his. "You and Sylvia drew for a long time tonight."
"She had a lot of ideas. She didn't want to go to bed. I've never had any trouble getting her to bed before," he said.
"She's usually cooperative about that," Rose said. "She prefers spending time with you, apparently, and who wouldn't?" She paused. "Jack, I wrote to my mother."
"Really?"
"I almost didn't. I haven't heard back yet," she said. "I probably won't." There was regret in her voice."
"Sure you will," Jack said reassuringly. "If she answered my letters, why wouldn't she answer yours? She hates me. You're the one she cares about."
"I may have been too harsh. I don't know. I didn't think so at the time. I wanted to be honest. I wanted her to know how I felt. If she's going to be in my life again—in our lives—we have to be honest. I don't want to tiptoe around things."
"What'd you say?" he asked.
"I told her I was happy, and she shouldn't blame you for what happened. I told her the truth, that I had to leave, or I would have died." She smiled wryly. "And I said what an awful person Cal was."
Jack chuckled. "You really said that?"
"Not in detail. I doubt she knows about what happened after I went to find you, or that he set you up. Well, maybe she knew that. If I realized it, she should have too."
"She doesn't know me the way you do," he pointed out. "You can't expect too much."
"You're defending her?" Rose arched an eyebrow."
"Not entirely. I don't want you focusing too much on what happened back then," he said. "You've got a chance for a better relationship now."
"I hope so. I keep thinking about Sylvia and the baby and what I'd feel if I lost them. I know I said it was different, but I'm not so sure it is anymore."
"Did you tell her that?" he asked.
"No. I will if she comes here. Jack, it's so odd. I understand her more now. I don't agree with her. I wouldn't do that to my daughter, but I understand why she thought Cal was the better choice, in spite of everything. When she talked about women's choices and having to compromise, I didn't believe her. I was very naïve then, just like she said. I'm not anymore."
"Do you wish you hadn't gone with me?"
"No. No, Jack, I've never wished that," she said. "As hard as my life was at first and as much as I missed you, that was still one of the best decisions I ever made."
He kissed her cheek. "You ever think about if I hadn't gone to that play?"
"I try not to." Rose titled her head up to look at him. "Do you think we would have been this happy if we'd been together the whole time?"
"I think so. You mean cause we woulda been poor at first?"
"We might still be poor," she said.
"No." Jack shook his head. "I wouldn'tve let the two of you need anything."
Looking into his eyes it was impossible not to believe him. Rose put her arms around him. She started to speak but kissed him instead.
…..
This anxious feeling was as unwanted as it was new. Sylvia didn't know how to make it go away. She couldn't control it. It crept over her when she wasn't expecting it. Suddenly, everything else was forgotten, overshadowed by the fear that something terrible had happened, that he was gone.
It wasn't so much Jack being late to pick walk her home. She would have gotten over that. He hadn't been late again. Some days he was early. When she came out of school she found him waiting, a part of a drawing on his knee. He was early that day. She felt relief when she saw him. He looked up from the paper and grinned. "Hey, Syl." He closed the sketchbook and stood up to take her hand. "How was school?"
"It was fine."
"Yeah? You learn anything new?"
"I learned new math," she answered.
"Oh really? I was never good at math."
"You weren't?" she said. "What were you good at?"
"I liked history and geography. I liked learning about the world, you know? I always wanted to go see the placed I read about."
"And you did, right?" Sylvia said.
"Some of 'em," he replied.
"Did you travel by yourself?"
"Not always," Jack said. "I had friends who traveled with me sometimes." He felt her eyes on him and knew she expected more of an answer than that. Jack wasn't sure what to say.
"You met Mama while you were traveling."
He nodded. "I did."
Sylvia didn't know what she wanted him to tell her. Since the encounter with Grace she'd wanted to ask him about his life before. She wanted to know if what Grace said was true. Had she lived with her too, the way he did with them? Had he loved her? Was there another little girl somewhere, waiting for him to come back? For the first time since they met, Sylvia doubted if Jack would stay.
"Is something wrong, Syl?" he asked.
"No." Her expression was somber. "I was just curious."
They walked in silence. Jack snuck looks at her and wondered what she was thinking. She seemed almost angry with him, but he couldn't figure out what for. Had he done something to upset her? They hadn't told her about the baby yet. It couldn't be that. Or did she sense it somehow? Maybe, he decided, all the changes were finally hitting her. He understood that. A lot had happened in such a short time. He was just now letting himself believe this was actually his life.
"Did you travel with girls?" she asked, as they went inside.
"What?" Jack was taken aback by the question. "You mean, besides your mother?"
"Yes. Did you?"
Sylvia looked up at him through eyes that were so much like his own. Jack struggled for an answer. "Sometimes," he said. "It wasn't a lie. She didn't need to know any more than that, not at her age.
"Did you love them?"
Now he saw Rose in her, the Rose who could blithely announce she was running away with him. "No," he said. "I never loved anyone but your mother."
