Jack held his breath as he fell. There was nothing to grab onto, no way to stop himself. At the last second he tried to go limp, hoping to break the impact, but it didn't make a difference. He did manage to roll on to his side, with one arm under his head as his father always instructed.
He lay, face in the grass, unable to breathe. The air had been knocked from his lungs, and they seemed to have forgotten how to bring more in. He heard footsteps and yelling. One of the voices was Rose. He tried to move, but a strong hand held him down. "Don't move yet," a man said. He spoke kindly but with authority.
"Jack!" Rose burst through the circle that had formed around him. She dropped to her knees. "Oh," she breathed softly. She touched his face.
"I'm alright," Jack said weakly. He tried to move again, but the mysterious hand kept him down.
"Don't," Rose said. "You'll hurt yourself even more."
"I'm not that hurt," Jack insisted. He wiggled his toes. Everything seemed fine.
"I sent someone after a doctor," the man said to Rose. Jack tried but couldn't see his face. His voice was deep and cultured. He sounded like a person accustomed to taking control of a situation.
Rose nodded. "Thank you." She didn't notice his green eyes or well-chiseled jaw, but she did see the way he cleared the area, and she saw how he waited with her and how he helped carry Jack inside.
…
Jack didn't want to be in bed. He was bruised. His wrist was broken. A few ribs were cracked, but that was nothing. He'd lived through that before. There was no reason why he couldn't be up and about, as long as he was careful. But no-one listened to him. The doctor insisted he stay in bed, and Rose agreed.
"It's just for a few days," she said. "You don't want your ribs breaking completely, do you? They could pierce your lungs."
"Well, that's quite an image," he said, chuckling.
"It can happen, Jack, and you've been needing more rest anyway," she said.
"Will you stay in bed with me?" he asked hopefully.
"I'd love to, but I can't," Rose said. "I'm sorry. I have to finish the chores. As soon as I'm done, I'll come sit with you. I promise."
"Don't go back up on the roof by yourself. That can wait. I'll finish it when I'm able to," Jack said. "And don't get out the saw by yourself either."
"What can I do?"
"The garden," he said. "You like that, and it's safe."
"I'll do that first," she said.
When she left the house he was waiting. Rose was startled by him. "I just wanted to make sure everything is alright," he said, holding out his hand, as if for her to shake it.
"Yes, everything is as fine as it can be, Mr.—"
"Andrew Cunningham," he said.
Rose shook his hand. "Thank you for all your help, Mr. Cunningham. I can't tell you how grateful I am. I don't always fall to pieces like that. It all happened so quickly, I didn't know what to do."
"I understand completely, Miss—"
"Dawson, Mrs," she answered. "Or Rose."
"I should have known," Andrew said good-naturedly. "Of course he couldn't be your brother. The hair and the coloring are too different."
"Right," she said. Rose wasn't sure what to make of him. He seemed friendly; his concern, as far as she could tell, was genuine, and it was clear he had money. This man was obviously a guest at the hotel. Even if he hadn't helped Jack, it wouldn't do to offend him. She missed his good looks once again, as fear for their jobs took its place alongside her fear for Jack.
"I already spoke to the owner. He's a friend of mine, actually," Andrew said. "I explained what happened, and I've sent some men up to finish the roof."
"That wasn't necessary," Rose said. "I was on my way to finish it." She sounded ungrateful, though she didn't mean to. She softened her expression.
"Nonsense," he replied. "That's no job for a lady to do on her own. If at all," he added, under his breath.
Rose heard him. "I assure you, I'm up to the task."
"I didn't mean to insult you," Andrew said.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just upset. Thank you, again, for everything. I don't know how to repay you, but—"
He waved away her words. "There's no need."
"You must let us do something," she argued. "I wouldn't feel right if you didn't."
"I try never to make a lady uncomfortable," he said. "I'll think of something. Perhaps you can send me some of those lovely flowers the storm destroyed, once you get them growing again? I hear you're responsible for the gardens."
"Yes, I am. I don't think that's enough, but I'll be happy to send you flowers. It'll take a few weeks to get them growing again, I'm afraid."
"I'm willing to wait," Andrew said. He smiled. For the flowers. For her. Rose may not have noticed his handsomeness, but he saw her beauty from the start. Even as he was helping carry Jack home, he was aware of her. He heard the refinement in her voice and saw the grace in her movements. He wondered how she ended up here, married to this boy. This wasn't her world. She didn't belong here. Anyone could see that. "If I can be of any more assistance," he said, offering a card.
"Thank you," Rose said. She put it in her pocket without reading it. "I'm sure we won't need anything else. I can take care of things from here. If you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do."
Andrew watched her go. Her determination was remarkable. "Such an intriguing girl," he said to himself. He resolved to find out everything about her.
…..
Rose spent the rest of the day cleaning up the gardens. Nothing could be planted yet, but there was still plenty to do. The dead plants had to be cleared away, the rocks that sectioned off each part had to be put back in place, the bird feeders had to put cleaned off and set back up. She covered the worst of the puddles with dirt, hoping that would make them dry faster.
Rose worked quickly, pushing herself to get everything done. Fear drove her, fear for Jack and for the life they were trying to build. Telling Jack not to worry was easy; stopping herself from worrying was impossible. Rose wished he were next to her. She wished his arms were around her. He was so reassuring. What was she thinking, leaving him alone? What if he needed her? And after the way he'd taken care of her? "You're a terrible wife," she scolded herself.
Finally, everything was finished. She hurried back home. Jack, to her relief, was sleeping peacefully. She kissed him, lingering for a moment, before going to clean up.
…..
"Are you sure your head doesn't hurt?" Rose asked. She set a tray of food down on the bedside table. "You may have hit it, even if you don't realize it."
"My head's fine," Jack replied. "I'm fine."
"You aren't fine. You're hurt."
"I'm not that hurt," he argued.
"It's enough, Jack."
"I'm sorry," he said. "You're right. It coulda been a lot worse. I got lucky. I'm just glad I fell and not you."
"Don't say that. I'm not more valuable than you are."
"But I know how to fall," he pointed out. "I haven't taught you that yet," he added, grinning.
Rose tried not to smile. "Is that a skill I should be cultivating?"
"It's got uses," he said. "I really can teach you, if you want."
"Well, I'd like to not talk about falling or injuries for a while," she said. "I've done enough worrying for today."
Jack took her hand. "You don't hafta worry, Petal. I'll take care of you."
"We'll take care of each other," Rose corrected. "Now, please, eat something."
"Yes, miss."
"None of that," she warned. "Don't get any ideas."
"How can I not, lying in bed all day?" he joked. "All by myself," he added mournfully.
Rose's eyes dimmed. "I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't meant to rush off like that. There were so many things that needed to be done, and I was afraid if I didn't go, we'd—"
"I know," he said. "I thought about that too."
"I finished everything. There shouldn't be any problems."
"You went back on the roof?" Jack said, frowning. "Rose, you told me you wouldn't."
"I didn't. That man, the one who helped you, he hired some men to do it." She paused, not sure how he would react. It was a generous act, but now she saw its implications.
Jack's surprise was visible. "He did? Why?"
"I spoke to him on my way out," she said. "He told me he wanted to help. A woman shouldn't be going up there alone, he claimed."
"Neither should I, apparently." He grinned, but there was a slight edge in his tone.
"He also said he knows the owner. He spoke to him about what happened."
"So, we have a new friend, I guess," he said. "A rich, mysterious friend."
"I wouldn't say that. We needed help, and a nice person stepped in. That's all. It's the sort of thing you would have done."
"You think?"
Rose nodded. "I know you, Jack. You would've helped however you could."
"Yeah, I guess, I would've," he conceded.
"Do you mind if I get in bed with you?"
"You know I don't," he answered.
Rose settled in next to him, careful not to press against his injured ribs. "I wish I could hold you," she said, putting his uninjured hand between hers.
Jack kissed her cheek. "I could say the same thing."
"Do you want me to read?"
"I'd like that," he replied.
…
Jack couldn't sleep. It hurt when he breathed, and Rose was too far away. His relief at knowing their jobs were safe was overshadowed by what saved them. Rose's going out and finishing the chores probably helped, but he knew it was the word from this mysterious benefactor that made the real impact. He almost wished it hadn't. He would rather fight for their jobs himself. He was the one who should be making sure things turned out alright, not this other man.
Jack glanced over at Rose. He was grateful only for her sake. She had dealt with enough. This was supposed to be their new start, and here he was, hurt, failing her again. She didn't seem to see it that way, though, and he marveled at her ability to keep believing in him. Had anyone else ever believed in him this much? His parents, maybe, but they never talked about things like that. Now he wished they had.
Jack remembered the man's face. He was good-looking. Young, maybe a few years older than him. Rich, yes, that was clear. He remembered how he took control of the situation, how he reassured Rose. Jack was torn between gratitude and jealousy. He knew it was ridiculous. He had nothing to be jealous of.
But there were so many things he couldn't give her, so much he couldn't do. Life with him would be so hard, even at its best. The fear that she would get tired of struggling alongside him gnawed at him. Not all rich men were like Cal. Some could give her the freedom she needed. They could love her. They could appreciate her. They could take care of her. And as much as Jack hated it, he was sure this man, whoever he was, knew that as well.
….
It had been nearly two weeks since Ruth hired that man—as she thought of him—and he had finally called her with some news. She sat in his office impatiently. Didn't he know better than to make an appointment and then fail to appear on time? She was about to leave when he arrived.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mrs. Dewitt-Bukator," William said pleasantly. "Another case, you understand."
"No, I do not," Ruth said coolly. "But you're here now, so I will overlook the inconvenience."
"I have some results," he said, undaunted by her tone. "I'm not sure how happy you'll be with what I've found, but remember, it's only the beginning." He took a folder from his desk and placed it before her. "Basically," he went on. "I found their marriage license. There's a copy in there."
Ruth picked up the folder with trembling hands. So, they were married. She didn't know if that was good or bad. Did it mean he wouldn't leave her? Would it be better if he did? He might have wives all over the world. It would be better, she decided, if he left her. She could bring Rose home then. But he wouldn't. She knew it. She'd known it the first time she saw him. The way he looked at Rose made it obvious. She just hadn't wanted to admit it. Part of her really did want Rose to suffer for what she'd done. Ruth wanted her to see she couldn't just throw away opportunities.
"And I found the room they were staying in," William said. "The address is there too, but they've left. I also found out where they worked. He did some construction work, but there was some trouble. A strike, and he got arrested. Spent a night in jail."
Ruth's frown deepened. Of course he had. Maybe he wouldn't just abandon Rose, but with this sort of behavior, staying with her might be worse. "What else?" she asked.
"She worked in a law firm. She was a secretary."
Rose had a job? Ruth couldn't believe what she was hearing. No daughter of hers was ever supposed to go out and work. Was he not even man enough to keep her from that indignity? Rose probably fought for it, though. She would see it as an adventure, just like her talk about attending a university.
"Is that all?" she said.
"Well, no—" He hesitated. "I couldn't get a straight answer about this, but from what I did find out, I can tell you there was trouble, involving your daughter."
"What do you mean?" Ruth's tone was sharp with concern. "Was she hurt?"
"That's what I don't know exactly," William answered. "Something happened, but I couldn't get the details."
"Just tell me what you do know," she demanded.
"Her boss, a fellow named Wheaton, he's the type that, uh, enjoys pursuing the girls who work for him. I don't know a more delicate way to put it. I got that from some of the other girls who work at the firm. He only hires young, pretty, single girls, and most of them don't last long." He paused. "The ones who do, ahem, are the ones who respond to his advances. It's all there in the file, if you'd rather not hear it."
Ruth's throat felt tight. "Just finish."
"They didn't know or didn't want to tell much more than that. Something happened, like I said before. Your daughter was seen running from the building. The next morning a guy came in, and uh, roughed up her boss, you could say."
"Jack." Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Most likely. The description matches, and they left right after. I don't know where they went yet. Out of the city, it appears."
And where was Rose now? What else had happened to her? "Telephone me when you know where they are," she said.
….
Jack's ribs were nearly healed, but his wrist wasn't. He could get out of bed, but he couldn't do much. He couldn't even draw. That was as bad as not being able to hold Rose. He went around the grounds with her, trying to help with the chores. The weather had been nice, so he had that to be glad about, at least. No more storms were tearing the world apart.
The flowers were starting to bloom again. Rose's delight as they walked through them was infectious. "See, what'd I tell you?" he said. "They came back. They're even prettier now."
"I think you're right," she said. "They seem brighter, somehow."
"Despite his protests Rose still insisted he got to bed after dinner. "You need rest, Jack."
"Rose, I'm fine."
"Please," she said. Jack sighed. "I'd do it for you," she added.
"That's not fair." He kissed her. "Come with me?"
"After I get things cleaned up in here."
Rose could see the full moon through the kitchen window. She was seized by a wild urge to stand beneath it. Jack would understand. Jack would go with her. But she couldn't disturb him. So, she went alone, quietly slipping out of the house. The summer night was warm. The air smelled of honeysuckles. She had only gone a few steps when Andrew appeared. She jumped back. "What are you doing here?" she asked suspiciously.
"I was taking a walk," he answered. "Same as you are." He smiled good-naturedly. "Do you mind?"
"No. You're free to walk anywhere you like. You just surprised me. Guests don't usually come this far."
"How are you?" he asked.
"I'm fine. Jack's fine. He's doing much better," Rose said. "Thank you." Her tone was polite, with only a little warmth.
"I'm glad to hear it, and I hear you've been getting everything done on your own. That's rather impressive."
"It isn't really," she said. "There haven't been any big tasks lately."
"But you don't strike me as the type of girl who would be doing this type of work."
Rose stiffened. "That's exactly who I am."
"I meant no offense," Andrew said apologetically. He was more intrigued than ever. So far, he'd learned almost nothing about her. No-one knew anything. This strange couple appeared one day, out of nowhere. Here, in the moonlight, she almost glowed. She was even more beautiful than before.
"I have to get back inside," she said. "Excuse me."
"Of course."
The party was the next weekend. Perhaps, he mused, another invitation should be sent out.