Chapter Twenty-Two
July 4th, 1912
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
By a half past five, the Hockley estate was filled with dozens of party-goers. They mingled in the house; along the stairs, against the walls of corridors, everywhere in the dining room, and even spilled out into the small but twisty garden of the property. Cocktails were flying and beer bottles were piling up. Food was a ball. Women danced in delight at the perfect creme brulees. And the men hailed the shrimp piled atop mounds of hard ice. It was already shaping up to be an excellent evening as the band began their ragtime jazz, which had people to their feet instantly. The young children of the families had already gotten their hands on small firecrackers. They squealed and howled with delight as they chased each other around the property, crawling under cars despite their crisp suits. Their mother's would cry about it later. At that moment, though, everyone just wanted to have a good time.
Rose found herself in the dining room with a flute glass of champagne in hand. Her hair had been done into a curly up-do that made her hair reflect the flowers themselves. Every direction Rose looked, it was only a sea of unfamiliar people. Sure, they were smiling, laughing, and relaxing, but it brought no comfort to Rose. She found herself wandering through the room, as if she was a ghost. Nobody looked to the timid slender girl, dressed to the hilt. It was like she wasn't there at all. Each group Rose passed, they were all in their own little worlds. Safe in their bubbles. Too distracted for newcomers. Nervously, she clinked her ring against the neck of her drink and made a sharp turn in the direction of the open french doors. Several people were congregated on the first porch. She walked through without giving anyone a look. Barely anyone noticed her, anyway.
As she wandered further into the garden, she found there were fewer people. And she felt like she was able to breath again. Rose seated herself on the edge of the brick potters that held the hedges in neat lines. Again, her new dress made all sorts of noises in protest. She sipped her champagne, simply watching the blossoming garden around her. The flowers moved so gently in the evening air. The sun was setting and already the distant pops of fireworks rang out. It wouldn't be long until the entire sky was lit up in jubilation. The hum of the party droned on, with the squeaks of violins and cellos seeping out the windows. Rose closed her eyes, tilting her head down.
I don't belong here, Jack. Can't you tell? Rose let out a huff, glancing to her half-empty glass. I must look absolutely pathetic. Rose came to her feet and paced a few steps. Dressed up like a ridiculous doll. Like I'm a stunning reality to see. And yet, I'm sitting out in the garden all alone. Rose finished her champagne and stared at the few bubbles of foam drifting towards the bottom. After a moment, she carelessly dropped the glass, allowing it to shatter all over the terracotta path. This is the moment, Jack, where you'd come around the corner, untying your bowtie because you absolutely despise it. You'd be raking all that sticky gel out of your hair. And that would be the moment you would see me and you would know... you just had to take me away. I would go with you willingly, Jack. Hands clapsed, we'd escape this darkening garden without a trail to follow. Just you and me. Doing what we do best.
Overhead, a firework whizzed and exploded in a paramount show of gold sparkles and blue lights. Rose's eyes watched the sky and the dreadfully beautiful sound of violins filled her ears. She ripped her eyes from the sight, biting down on her lip. Everything I want. Everything I crave... it's because of you, Jack. You showed me this damned world that I couldn't have. You dangled it right in front of me. And now I'm sure you're laughing at me. I've really learned my lesson now, Jack. Another firework went off. Rose watched her shadow drift across the footpath. I'll never know what really happened that night, Jack. I'll never remember where it all went terribly wrong. When did our hands fall apart? When was the last moment we were truly together? These questions will haunt me for the rest of my life. I know that, whenever our last touch was, you were putting me before you. You were acting as your chilvarous-self, like you had nothing to lose. But I had you to lose. And it was the last thing I wanted.
The darkness was quickly overtaking the sherbert evening sky. Rose watched as the light gave in to the dark. It allowed the night time to overcome it and take its place. But the sunlight would have its revenge once the world turned again. Rose watched the stars begin to break through the sanguid darkness. She pursed her lips, looking amongst the dozens of them. You're up there somewhere. I wish I knew where but I'm afraid you've left me no address for the stars. How will you ever take me there now, Jack? I haven't the faintest clue as to where you've gone... where am I supposed to go?
Suddenly, a hushed whisper caught her ears and she cautiously looked over her shoulder. A shadow was approaching from around the corner. Rose pricked her ears in an effort to hear the quiet mumbles from the stranger. "Rose? Rose, are you there?" It was Cal. She felt her entire body wax and wane between hot and cold. Flustered, Rose's eyes darted about before she carefully crept around another corner, being careful her heels were muted to the stone path. "Rose? Sweetpea?"
Rose pressed her back into the sharp hedge, uncaring if twigs got caught in her curls or snagged on her dress. Her breathing shallowed in her chest, goosebumps puckering across her skin as she heard those familiar Italian loafers clack against the footpath. Rose so desperately wanted to be alone. She wished Cal didn't feel the need to seek her out during the social. Rose did not want him to see her in her attire. In her opinion, it was flamboyant and over the top for a Fourth of July gala. Rose took a deep breath and closed her eyes. For a moment, she could hear the awful groan of a large boat under immense pressure. That very pressure began to mount in her chest. She sincerely hoped he hadn't come back for more kisses. Rose would have to turn him away. And just how many 'no's' stood between Rose and the old Cal that she felt could never die, no matter how much insistence was placed on it?
Another firework began its journey to the sky, whizzing to announce it's presence over Pittsburgh. Rose's eyes snapped upwards. She knew it would be her downfall. The sky erupted into a collage of royal purples and bright greens. Rose's heart thundered in her chest as she watched her shadow sail across the path. And a moment later, the intuitive Cal appeared beside her.
"Ah, there you are, sweetpea," He said, reaching out and tenderly gripping her elbow. "What are you doing all the way back here? You look absolutely magnificent. You should be in the center of that dining room right now."
Rose pursed her lips and cast her eyes down. "I don't want to be in there."
"And why not?" The ice cubes in Cal's whiskey clanked against the crystal glass as he raised his arms in question. "Everyone is so curious about the mystery bride. I feel it's best you indulge them."
Rose looked to him and he swore his knees almost turned to jelly. In the dusk, with the fireflies blinking just beyond the path from Rose, she looked stunning. An absolute angel, glowing in every capacity she could ever find. But her deflated voice betrayed her looks. "I thought you and I both agreed we hated the idea of this party?"
"Let me get you a drink, then," Cal suggested. "Champagne? Merlot? Maybe a cocktail or a martini? I say you have one. Make the best of a bad situation, right?"
She could only find it in her to stare at him, rather incredulously, for a few moments. He seemed so loose. Even if his most drunken stupors before had he never been able to unwind so much. Rose wondered what could change to allow himself to give in so freely like that. Part of her wondered if she could ever be that carefree.
"Come on, Rose," Cal nudged her now. "Let's make things a happy ending."
"Cal, happy endings don't exist," Rose shook her head. Above them, another collage of golds and blues flashed through the sky. "Happy endings just mean the story isn't over yet." And with that, she brushed past him, winding into the dark garden. Her breath was hitched in her throat and her vision grew tunneled as she hurried back to the house, not looking to a single person. She had to go to her room. Rose desperately needed to splash water on her face. She pinched her wrist as she stamped up the stairs, hoping this was all some elaborate dream. It had to be. That wasn't Caledon Hockley she just saw. But unfortunately, Rose was not transported away from the hellish nightmare that consumed her environment. The jaunty music continued to ring out. Chatter was everywhere, laughters and smoker coughs errupting amidst all the socializing. Waiters and maids rushed by with trays of drinks, cheese cubes, shrimp, and every other unnecessary delicacy that the attendees probably had for lunch.
Rose made a beeline through the dining room, brushing past people who, for the first time, were beginning to notice the elusive red head with the curls of fine silk and a dress that encapsulated her slender body, making her out to be a majestic princesss, simply bouncing on air. Even in her flustered distressed state, she eminated grace as she did her damndest to escape all the pressures around her. The eyes of the party-goers were beginning to close in on Rose and follow her. Why now, she wondered miserably. Leave me be. I wish to only be the mysterious bride.
"Rose! Oh, Rose!" Her mother's voice paralyzed Rose in her tracks. Her voice was as sharp and uncomfortable as nails down a chalkboard. "Rose, sweetheart, come here a moment, won't you?" Her mother's aristocratic voice was so sweet and boding. It was completely unlike the silver-tongued serpent she was behind closed doors.
Robotically, as if automatically wired to follow her mother's orders, Rose turned towards her. Around them, the party still raged on with laughters over shrimps and cackles over spilled wine. But standing through a clear passage of bodies was her mother, with an older couple. Slowly, Rose walked to the small group, as if in a trance. Ruth grinned, giving Rose sharp eyes to convey her manners.
"Rose, this is Mrs. Mary Hockley and Mr. Leopold Hockley IV. Caledon's aunt and uncle."
"A pleasure," Rose replied with a wispy voice, nodding her head.
"I'm glad the wedding shall be had here instead," Mary said, looking between the DeWitt Bukator women. Carefully, she plucked her olive from her glass. "Philadelphia is nice, sure. But Pittsburgh is the diamond of the state."
"Oh, yes," Ruth chimed in. In every other reality, that comment would have sent her mother into a rage. But in the eyes of the party, it was all useless side chatter. Not a word uttered could matter. "Rose and I must say we are thoroughly enjoying our new lives here in Pittsburgh. We are even more thrilled we could persuade you to attend the wedding."
"Caledon is a good boy," Leopold spoke up now, casually slipping a hand into his trouser pockets. He, too, was just like the men of his family tree. They each enjoyed a whiskey on the rocks, an amber elixir the men used to find their cocky boisterous-selves to thrust onto society. "Between you and I, I think Caledon has the most potential out of any of the new Hockley generation. He's blessed with Nathan's blood, the most adventurous of them all. It's our pleasure to watch Caledon betrothe such a lovely gem like Rose."
Rose felt like she was utterly suffocating. The music that resounded through the vaulted ceiling of the dining room came down on her like an invisible force. Her entire life, was again, flashing before her eyes. Recalling the endless parades of tea and cake invites, strolls through the park, and late afternoon dine-in's at country clubs. The dresses and silk ties may have changed, but the topic of choice never did. It was nothing but gossip. Nothing of importance or of value. It was all absolutely meaningless to Rose. And the entire world around her grew foreign and she felt a dizzy spell of isolation and detachment begin to cling at her belly and claw towards her chest.
"Oh, your words; you're too kind, Mr. Hockley," Ruth laughed mildly and politely. She then looked to Rose with expectant eyes. "Have you anything to say to such a friendly man?"
Rose felt like she had a barrage of words beating at the floodgates of her lips. But none would ever be appropriate or lady-like to speak outloud. If Rose had dared to truly speak her mind, she would have received the incredulous looks that matched the moment Rose had been caught hocking lugis. She hadn't the slightest idea of what to babble to these people. Rose couldn't pretend anymore.
So, instead, she fainted, right there in the middle of the boisterous gala.