Rose improved slowly. There were no more scares, and two weeks later she was pronounced well enough to go home. Even Jack couldn't argue with the diagnosis. Her fever was gone, and her color was healthy. She was bursting with energy and ate voraciously. The bruises had faded. Her hair was shiny, her curls bouncy. She grew more restless every day, pleading with Jack for a chance to get out of bed.
Finally, he couldn't refuse her anymore. "How'd you like to go home today?" he asked.
Her eyes lit up. "Jack, are you serious?" Rose broke into a wide grin. "Do you mean it?"
"Yeah." He nodded. "The doctor said you can, so why keep waiting? It's as warm as it's gonna get this time of year. The sun's out. It's a good day for a walk."
"I knew he said I could, but I didn't expect you to agree so easily." Excitement coarsed through her. She threw back the blankets and moved to hop out of bed. "How soon can we leave?"
"I was thinking we'd go after breakfast," Jack replied. "You've still gotta eat."
"Can I eat downstairs?"
"I don't see why not," he said. He took her hand and helped her to her feet.
"It feels so good to stand up. I've missed it so much. I feel ready to take on another renovation project," she added, with a laugh.
"Not so fast, Rose. You can't overdo it, or you'll get sick all over again," Jack cautioned.
Rose spoke in an exaggerated deep voice. "Yes, I know. Strain. Trauma. Long term effects." In her normal voice, she said, "I'll be careful, Jack." She squeezed his hand. "But I'm still going to enjoy myself." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "I couldn't have survived this without you," she whispered.
"You could've," he said. He kissed her slowly, fighting the urge to pull her closer. She was there, but he missed her so much. Jack was still afraid she would slip away. She was safe and in good spirits again, but he saw how she started at certain noises, how her dreams turned to nightmares, and he knew she still had a long way to go.
...
Breakfast was just starting when they came downstairs. "Rose," Lucy said, coming over to greet her. She took Rose's hands. "Jack said you'd be getting up."
"He couldn't fight me anymore," Rose laughed. "And not a day too soon. I couldn't stay in bed another minute. It was torture, just lying there with nothing to do."
"I know how you felt," Lucy said. "It drove me crazy too."
"You look well," Rose said. "Lovely, really." She squeezed Lucy's hands. "I'm glad to see you like this."
"I'm glad to see you too," They shared a brief look, and then Lucy said, "Why don't you take Fabrizo's chair? He's not here this morning."
"Where is he?" Rose asked.
"He's been staying home most nights," Jack said. "Now that Lucy's recovered, he didn't think he should be here so much. And someone needed to be watching the house."
"Watching it against what?" Rose said. "We're the only people for a few miles, aren't we?"
Jack wondered if he'd made a mistake with his word choice. He searched her eyes for distress, for a sign she was thinking of Cal, but he saw nothing. Was she hiding her fears, or were they simply not there?
"We're the only ones," he said. "But the animals need to be looked after." He shrugged. "You never know."
"Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" she said.
Jack touched her hand, intending to reassure her. Rose smiled, but there was a flicker in her eyes. It was so quick he almost missed it.
"So, you're leaving us?" Tom said.
"Yes, I'm afraid so," Rose answered. "I'm sorry it's so sudden, after everything you've done for us, but I can't give Jack a chance to change his mind." She chuckled, and it went around the table.
"I'm sure you're anxious to get home," Billy said. "I would be."
"We are," Jack agreed.
"I want to thank you for everything you've done," Rose said warmly. "I don't know how to repay you, or if I ever can, but-"
"There's no need for that," Tom said.
"But there is," Rose argued. "If you hadn't helped, I would have died." Jack pressed down on her hand. She glanced at him. "I caused you so much trouble," she said. "And I want to make up for it. Somehow."
"You don't have to do that," Tom said.
"We're glad to help," Adam added.
"But Lucy-" Rose began.
"I'm fine," Lucy said firmly. "What we experienced was horrible, but some good came out of it. I know you now, and I'm marrying Fabrizo. I wouldn't change that for anything. I probably wouldn't even have met him if not for you," she added.
"Me?" Rose said. "I didn't do anytbing."
"You brought Jack back here," Lucy said. "And he brought Fabrizo. See?"
Rose nodded. "I believe I do."
...
If you looked at the house you couldn't tell anything had happened. All the damage had been cleared away or repaired. The kitchen was warm, and the air was ful of delicious smells. Fabrizo stood at the counter, knife in hand. He beamed when he saw them. "I didn't expect you so early."
"Rose was eager to get home," Jack explained.
Fabrizo held out his arms. "Rosa!"
"Fabrizo!" She hugged him tightly. "It's wonderful to see you, especially like this. It feels like years since I was home."
"I know what you mean," Fabrizo said. "I was getting to miss the place too. I miss Lucia more, though," he added with a laugh.
"I'm so happy for you," Rose said. "I know I've already told you, but it bears repeating."
"Thank you, Rosa."
"Whatcha making?" Jack asked. He leaned over one of the simmering pots. "Smells great, whatever it is,"
"I know it does," Fabrizo said. "Stay out of that. It won't be ready for a few hours, and it doesn't need any help from you."
"What about me? I can help," Rose offered.
"Do you feel up to it?" Fabrizo asked.
"I feel more than up to it," Rose replied. "I need to do something useful. The past few weeks have been worse than all my years as a coddled princess." As if to prove her point, she grabbed an apron and tied it around her waist. "So, what are we making?"
"-" Fabrizo said. "In honor of your homecoming." He gave her a - and the knife. "You can dice this."
"What about me?" Jack said.
"You can stay out of the way," Fabrizo said good-naturedly.
"Hey, I can be plenty helpful," Jack said.
"Of course you can," Rose said. She tilted her head up for his kiss. "But not at this," she added.
"Fine. I'll go unpack our things," Jack said. "I'll stay out of the way. I'd hate to ruin the focus of a culinary artist like Fabrizo." He gave a slight bow and disappeared into the hallway. Lady settled under the table, chin on her paws.
"It truly does feel good to be home," Rose said.
"This place is home, isn't it?" Fabrizo said.
"It is for Jack and me. Isn't it for you?"
"I suppose so," Fabrizo said. His dark eyes were thoughtful. "I've been thinking about leaving."
"Permanently?" Rose arched an eyebrow.
"I don't know," he replied. "I wamt to take Lucia to Italy. We've talked about traveling, and with the way things are going, leaving might be best, at least for a while."
Rose kept her back to him. "How are things going?" she asked, careful to keep her tone even.
"What've you heard?"
"Nothing," she said. "No-one's told me anything since right after it happened."
"He's still in jail. If that makes you feel any better."
"It helps," she said. "What else?"
"His lawyers finally made it up here last week. They're working on a way to get him out, or so the sheriff says," Fabrizo replied. "It-They might succeed." He watched Rose for a reaction, but her pose didn't change. It was as if he were talking about a stranger, not the man who had tormented her. "Maybe you should ask Jack," he said.
"Jack won't tell me. He thinks he's protecting me," Rose said. "But I need to know."
Jack wouldn't like this. Fabrizo knew how much he worried about Rose. If he thought keeping her away from things that might upset her was best, who was he to question that? But Rose was also a grown woman, and this concerned her too. Possibly her more than anyone else. She had a right to know.
"Drop these in that pot," he instructed. "There are more rumors," he added.
"About Jack and me?"
"About all of us," he said. "But mostly you two."
"I trust they aren't very nice?"
"No," Fabrizo answered. "They aren't."
"Well, let's hear them." Rose wiped her hands on a tea towel. "What have we done?"
"One story is that you helped Jack rob Cal before you left. That's why you came back here. To hide."
"I should've expected that," she said. "What else?"
"Rosa, are you sure you want to hear this?"
"I need to know," she said again. "Please."
But Jack's return put an end to the discussion. "I ran outta stuff to do upstairs," he said. "I promise not to interrupt the masterpiece underway." He kissed the top of Rose's head. She smiled and squeezed his hand. "You're no bother," she said.
"You sure?" Jack said. "Fabrizo banished me earlier."
"I like having you here," Rose said. "I'm unbanishing you." She put her face against his chest. "Stay."
...
Rose held up a dress. "What do you think of this?"
"It's nice," Jack answered. He was sprawled across the bed, sketchpad next to him.
"It's Lucy's color," she said. She pressed her lips together and studied the dress. "With some alterations, I think it would suit her rather well, don't you?"
"Sure. But why?"
"I've been trying to figure out a way to repay the McCulloughs, and I think I've come up with something. A start, at least," she explained. "I'm going to give Lucy a wedding dress."
"That's a nice idea," Jack said. "But you don't hafta do anything. They know how grateful we are."
"Of course I have to do something. Jack, how can I not? Nothing will make up for how I've disrupted their lives, but I can try. Nothing will repay them for my life."
Jack pushed his sketchpad to the floor. "C'mere," he said. He wrapped his arms around her. His hand rested under her chin, his thumb against her cheek. "No-one blames you for anything," he said. "You know that, don't you, Rose?"
"I blame me."
"I wish you wouldn't," he said. He caressed her cheek with his thumb. The tender, familiar gesture brought tears to her eyes. She tried to speak, but a lump blocked her throat. She pressed her hand against the back of his neck, pulling him closer. Their kiss was slow but intense.
They lay facing each other, their hands tentatively exploring. It had only been a few weeks, but it felt like so much longer. A lifetime of experiences separated this time from the last.
Rose unbuttoned his shirt. She pushed it back, and he shrugged it off. She kissed his neck; her fingertips stroked his chest, moving down his belly. Jack's breathing quickened. He unhooked her dress and groaned when his hands met the next later of fabric. There was always something between them.
Rose laughed. He thought it was the most wonderful sound he had ever heard. She pulled her dress over her head and shook out her curls. A grin played about her lips. When she spoke, her voice was serious. "Do you want me, Jack?"
"I want you."
She put an arm around him, kissing him deeply. His hands moved across her, searching for a way to remove the rest of her clothes. He couldn't remember how they worked. His mind was blank, wiped clean of everything but his desire for her. It burned through him.
Jack felt her unbutton his pants, and he gasped as her hand kept going. "Rose."
"Make love to me, Jack," she whispered.
He looked into her eyes and saw the same desire burning in her. There were so many things he wanted to say, but no words could ever be enough. Jack knew she felt the same way. They seemed to read each other's thoughts, along with their bodies.
Time lost meaning. The lamp burned low, and the sun began to rise, but they didn't notice. Once became twice became a challenge to find out how many times Jack could make her tremble and cling to him, his name a sigh in her throat.
...
Lucy was just finishing up her shopping when she heard it. At first she didn't know what they were talking about. The voices came from around the corner, but she recognized them immediately. Mary Sterne and Pamela Richards. She wasn't surprised. They were always gossiping about someone, whether there was a story to tell or not. She picked up her basket, intending to leave, but then a name stuck out. Hers.
"Can you believe it?" Mary said.
"I expected better of her," Pamela sniffed. "But then again, what can you expecct from a girl who's been allowed to run wild all her life?"
Lucy stiffened. How dare they! She had never run wild. Her upbringing was as respectable as anyone else's. Probably more so, with all her brothers around to keep her in line.
"And you know how she ran after Jack," Mary added. "That was just trouble waiting to happen. It's a good thing he left when he did."
Lucy's cheeks burned with indignation. No-one had ever spoken about her this way.
Or had they? Was it possible her reputation wasn't quite what she thought it was?
But that couldn't be. She'd hardly done anything before now. What was there to talk about?
"It's a shame they way she and that Italian fellow are carrying on," Pamela remarked. "He stayed with her family for weeks, just like they were married."
No, he didn't! Lucy almost yelled. She bit her lip to keep the words from flying out. You don't know anything.
"Well, he's Jack's friend," Mary said. "He brought him back from wherever he was, along with that girl he's been calling his wife."
"She's not?"
"Oh no," Mary said gleefully. "She's already married. She left a rich husband back east. Fabulously rich," she added, with a small sigh. "He came after her, and that's how it got out."
"So, it's true?" Pamela said. "There was some kind of trouble over there?" She leaned closer, eager for the details. "What happened?"
"I don'r know exactly," Mary admitted. "But apparently, there was an awful fight. The girl was hurt, and her husband's in jail."
"No!" Pamela gasped.
Mary nodded. "The sheriff arrested him. According to my father, the trial's due to start any day now, but they'e trying to keep it quiet."
"What some girls will go," Pamela said, shaking her head. "I never thought Jack was the type to go for that."
Lucy couldn't stand it any longer. She slammed her basket down, abandoning it and its contents, and flounced out the door, chin in the air.
...
Jack's head rested on her shoulder; he was cradled in her arms. His eyes were half-open. A dreamy haze had settled over him. He could've slept, but he didn't want to. He enjoyed this feeling too much.
Rose stroked his hair, lost in a place of her own, somewhere between sleeping and waking. It was hard to imagine her life was real, that she could go from the depths of misery to utter happiness, and that she could nearly lose it all, only to survive at the last moment.
It wasn't all perfect, though. She faced Cal again each time she closed her eyes, every time she was startled by something, and sometimes, for no discernible reason at all. Her heart raced, and her throat went dry, and panic set in. Soon, she would have to face him in person. She would have to look into his eyes and describe the things he'd done, all in front of a crowd. A roomful of strangers would hear the intimate details of her life. She had to make them believe her. Just thinking about it put knots in her stomach. Rose wished she could get it over with. She wished she could just blink her eyes and find herself at the end of the trial. She wasn't sure she even cared about the verdict anymore. It wasn't likely Cal would remain in jail much longer. Why hope? It was enough she was sage, and that at least a few people believed her, no matter what anyone else might say.
...
Milton Vaughn was an imposing man. He wore his steel-grey hair combed back to give the illusion of more. His shoes were always freshly polished, and his suits were always immaculate. He had his own tailor, a luxury he'd always insisted on, even before he came chief counsel to some of the wealthiest families in the Northeast. He believed the cut of his suits made his fortune as much as his legal prowess. Milton knew how important style and image were to men like Cal. Men like that wanted someone they could see themselves in-or imagine they did.
"This is absolutely ridiculous," Milton said. "There is no reason for my client to be here." He stood across from Harry, who sat at his desk, idly playing with a pencil.
"Your client," Harry said. "Is being held for trial until next week. The judge already ruled on it. We've been over this."
"I don't care what you say. This supposed ruling will not stand." Milton rapped his knuckles on the table for emphasis. "My client poses no threat."
"The women he attacked would disagree," Harry replied. "And with his money, he can run anywhere once he's out. No, he stays here."
Cal scowled through the bars. This was taking far longer than he anticipated. What was he paying Milton for if he couldn't manage this simple task? If he stayed away much longer, people would talk. The gossip columnists were probably already speculating. Lovejoy would feed them some story or other, but it wouldn't hold forever.
Cal leaned against the bars, his hands gently encirclng them. Just the way he'd hold Rose's neck, once he got out. And he would get out. It was only a matter of time.
