CHAPTER ONE: DRAGONFLIES & LADYBUGS
1 9 8 5
A snip to the bramble has its prickled vine falling by her knee that squishes down in the wet grass, and strands of of dark brown hair that have fallen from the braid, brush against her cheek as the wind blows through the flower bed she's tending.
Her eyes scan over the small garden stones at the base of the bushel of tiger lilies—one's cut into a dragonfly, the other a ladybug, a memorial of what had been taken from her eight years prior, a year before her freedom was granted once Dr. Brenner's children were massacred.
She'd be lying if she said she didn't feel some sort of closure from the incident, seeing him so distraught, so confused...shaken...
It was the first time Rosie had finally understood what her mother had spent years hammering into her mind, "You reap what you sew."
The sloshing of saturated ground catching footsteps pulls her from her work, glancing over her shoulder to see her husband in his Sunday best, his brows raised over his sunglasses, keys in his hand.
"Rosie, darlin', you're getting your dress stained up." His soft drawl warns. "You about ready to go?"
"Yeah." She smiles as he offers his hand, helping her stand up before he grasps ahold of her high-heels that have been placed neatly beside her in the grass.
"Oh, here," He scoops her up before she can walk through the grass, to which she replies, "I can walk, William."
"And have you going to church with dirty feet?" He retorts, stepping to the concrete of their driveway where his navy blue Cadillac Deville waits for them.
Opening the passenger door, handing her the keys, he sits her down and starts brushing the bottom of her feet off with his hands before reaching for her shoes.
Her eyes burn into him as he grabs for her other foot once one shoe is securely on.
She should feel things in moments like this. Appreciation, adoration, love, longing...maybe even a physical want or lust toward him with the way he gently grasps ahold of her calf muscle under her dress as he put her shoe on.
But his actions are done in vain, volunteering his efforts to an apathetic being.
He knows this, but he does it anyway because he vowed to do such as it until death departs them.
"You gonna crank the car or just keep staring at me?" He asks her with a smirk on his lips, not looking away from his task, and his question prompts her to reach over and turn the key in the ignition, cranking the vehicle.
"...Blessed savior thou will guide us, 'till we reach that blissful shore, where the angels wait to join us, in that great forevermore..." The congregation sings, Rosie and William shoulder to shoulder with the other Baptists packing into the little church that lacks air conditioning at the moment, many of them fanning themselves with programs or pew fans.
William glances down at Rosie, his dark brown eyes scanning over her fluffy lilac colored Sunday dress, his dark brown eyes catching on her left hand that's once again bare of any evidence of their union.
He takes note of it while she doesn't even notice him looking at her, keeping her desolate eyes forward on the choir, her lips barely moving as she sings what's supposed to be a cheerful song.
Once service is over, dragging on due to their pastor's apparent inability to tell time, the two of them head toward the parking lot, only to be stopped by William's buddy, Johnny, and his wife Elenor.
"You're still coming tonight, right?" Johnny asks, Rosie glancing at her husband with furrowed brows.
"What's tonight?" She asks, to which Elenor replies, "some game they're gonna cuss at the television over," with a roll of her eyes.
"I was gonna tell you but didn't have much time." William assures his wife, who didn't know about any of this until now.
"A good bit of them are going to be there," Elenor adds, "the boys are gonna watch the game and us girls are gonna get together and start planning Misty's surprise baby shower."
"Who?" Rosie asks, furrowing her brows, and Elenor glances to William and Johnny in confusion.
"Misty? You know Misty, she's in Sunday school with us, Rose." She laughs it off, nudging Rosie with her elbow.
"Oh, yeah." Rosie pretends to know who she's speaking about, chuckling nervously.
"Perhaps you wouldn't forget her if you'd show up a little more often." Elenor says next, poking fun.
"Well, maybe I'd show up more often if we were actually learning, and not spending all morning disguising gossip as prayer requests." Rosie states, shooting down Elenor's giggling abruptly.
The two women look at one another, William and Johnny silently understanding that perhaps they should be separated before this turns into a scene in the church parking lot.
"We should be getting home for lunch, I'll see you tonight." Johnny states, patting William's shoulder.
"See you, John. Elenor." William nods to the woman who is still looking at Rosie as she says, "Johnny," and grasps ahold of her husband's hand as he guides her toward their car.
Rosie steps to William's car, more so stomps to his car, before snatching the door open.
"Please, don't slam it, please, don't slam it..." he repeats under his breath right before the door slams shut so loudly that it catches the attention of fellow church goers on their way to their cars. "...Of course you slam it." He adds before opening the door and getting inside.
Looking at his wife, her eyes on her hands in her lap, completely avoiding him, he clears his throat and cranks the car.
"I thought you and Elenor liked each other," he starts, glancing at Rosie.
She doesn't answer, continuing to look down.
"We do." She states to him, rolling her jaw.
"You talk like that to people you like?" He questions her, and she finally looks up to meet his line of sight.
"You heard what she said to me!" She insists, meeting his eyes.
"Well...it's—" He stops talking, catching himself.
"It's what, William?" She asks, already knowing what he about about to say. "It's true? Is that it?"
"It's plausible." He tries to cushion his response, but it only makes her more upset.
"Oh, good grief, William." She snaps, unbuckling her seat belt, opening the car door.
"Where you going, Rose, get back in here!" He calls but she slams the door and starts walking toward the street. "Goddamnit, Rosie." He grumbles, getting out of the car, too, walking after her.
"I didn't mean it like that, alright?!" He says, quickly approaching her as she keeps walking.
"Have you ever considered perhaps I might just go to church more often if I actually believed in God?!" She snaps at him.
"Can we please talk about this when we get home, Rose, all these people don't need to know our business." He quietly pleads, as he gets ahead of her, stopping her steps and feeling the attention on them.
"We won't talk about it when we get home. We never do. You drink a beer and sit in your chair and I go make lunch. You go back to your chair and fall asleep and I have supper cooked when you wake up. You eat, shower, and go to bed. There is no 'talking' with you about anything." Her voice shakes.
"What?" It's nearly hissed out, confusion sweeping his features, her words striking a nerve.
She becomes hyper-aware of the eyes on the two of them, and reluctantly starts back to the car.
He follows, her words still reeling back in his mind again and again, and as soon as the car stops in their driveway, he starts.
"I have done everything the past six years to make you happy. To try to make you happy, at least, because I learned pretty damn fast it might as well be an Olympic sport." He states as calmly as he can, though the frustration and pent up resentment is beginning to bleed through. "If it seems as if I won't have anything to do with you, it's because you won't let me. I try to talk to you and you brush me off. I try to spend time with you, and you just want 'time to yourself.'" He quotes words she's given him in the past verbatim. "Don't even get me started on the fact I can't touch you without—"
"—You touch me all the time and I don't mind it." She argues, glaring at him.
He looks at her for a second before his voice wavers a little as he says, "You know what I mean when I say that."
Rosie can't deny that, no matter how ugly of a truth that it is.
Six years together and the only time they touched was to consummate their marriage on their wedding night, and that was only because she felt she owed it to him.
Deciding she doesn't want to hear more of where this conversation is going, she gets out the car, slamming the door, and he rolls his jaw and goes after her.
"Rosie, I'm talking to you!" He shouts as she shuts the door of the house, leaving him outside while red begins to slide down her lips.
Heading to the kitchen to press a dish towel to her nose, she leans her head back in an attempt to stop the blood that has suddenly decided to start flowing, hearing the front door shut as her husband comes inside.
"I'm not done talking to you." His voice shakes.
"Gimme a second, William, and I'll gladly fight with you." Her tired voice heaves out as he steps closer, furrowing his brows.
"Maybe you just need to go get this thing cauterized." He shoves aside his feelings at the moment to help her, grabbing another clean dish towel, reaching in the ice box and grabbing a few cubes before putting them in the cloth. "C'mere," he gently grasps her waist and leads her to the kitchen table and pulls the heavy wooden chair out from under it to sit her down.
"I got it," she tells him as he places the cloth filled with ice on the bridge of her nose.
"So you won't even let me help you, now?" He asks, to which she lets out a breath of defeat and relaxes some, allowing him to hold the ice to her nose as she catches the blood from it in the cloth. "...You still having headaches?"
"Yes." She clears her throat, wincing at the feeling of blood going down the back of it.
His eyes shift to hand that's holding the rag to her nose.
"Did you lose your ring again?" William asks, next, not accusatory, simply just curious.
At first he believed that she had been throwing it out — he always found it in the yard, but even it slipped from his possession when he had hidden it away from her to ensure it's safe keeping.
They haven't been able to find it since, and had to buy her another ring altogether.
"I took it off last night to get a shower and it wasn't on the bathroom counter where I left it." Rosie explains it, truthfully. "I'll find it once we get this settled with."
"No, don't worry about it. It's not like it's gonna stay on your finger very long, anyway." He mumbles.
She doesn't reply to his comment, closing her eyes and trying to stay relaxed for the time being.
"What do you want for lunch?" She offers, her eyes still closed, and he thinks about it for a moment...
"...I'm not really hungry." The voice she hears is not that of her husband, the deep, slower southern draw being replaced with a softer, lighter tone.
Her eyes snap open, meeting with eyes as blue as the sky.
She scrambles away, discarding the cloth to her nose, planting on the floor several feet away, trying to catch her breath as she looks at William.
"Rosie, what's going on?!" He asks her, going to her side.
Peter's gone, his blue eyes and blonde hair replaced by William's brown eyes and sandy colored hair.
"Are you okay?" He asks her, concerned, as she looks around frantically.
"I'm sorry." She apologizes to him, shaking her head. "I'm sorry."
"What happened?"
"I-I um..." she trails off, taking in a breath. "...I thought I saw something."
It's not a complete lie, but it still pulls a look of confusion from him.
"I'm okay, now, though." She goes to stand up and he helps her. "What did you say you wanted for lunch?"
"I can make a sandwich." He shrugs, keeping ahold on her hand as long as he can before she pulls from him to try to rinse the blood from the rag she had used, and discard the ice from the other one. "You don't have to go tonight. I'm sure Elenor will understand."
"I could give a shit what Elenor understands." It leaves her mouth before she can stop it, William biting into his tongue.
There's an awkward, uncomfortable silence between the two of them before he walks to the fridge to grab a beer, and she heads upstairs to their room to take a nap—the entirety of their marriage in a nutshell.
A soft knock on the bedroom door pulls Rosie's eyes open, while the two quiet knocks sound like bombs exploding in her ears, making her wince and grasp at her forehead.
"Come in." Sue grits out, taking a deep breath, rubbing her head as William peeks inside the room, seeing her back to him.
"I'm about to head over to Johnny's. Do you need anything before I go, or want me to grab anything while I'm out?"
She shakes her head, not speaking, opting him to step closer.
"Are you alright?"
The question can basically answer itself given her behavior lately, but he's been forcing himself not to bring up her possibly starting therapy again or getting back on anti-depressants. The last time he brought it a couple of years back, the two of them nearly got divorced because she mistook it as him thinking she was crazy.
He's never thought that of her, he just recognizes that some people need help sometimes, and at the moment his wife especially does.
"It's just a headache." She says lowly, and he steps to the kitchen momentarily before returning with some over the counter pain meds, and a glass of water, extending his hand to her as he sits on the bed beside her.
Cautiously taking the pills from him, swallowing them back, and chasing them with water, she hands the glass back to him and he puts it on the bedside table before she turns to face him, carefully grasping ahold of his hand.
"Thank you for being so good to me...I know I've been difficult the past few months..." She confesses, sniffling, looking over his handsome face, dark eyes, perfectly styled hair.
He reminds her of a breathing ken doll, with the money and beloved personality to match.
Any woman would be lucky to have such a wonderful person in their corner, and she felt lucky the few months they dated before rushing to marriage having had their hopes and dreams cascade over their reality.
Marriage and lots of babies and happily ever after, but it only took a total of twelve hours in holy matrimony before the new wore off and she realized what she had done.
The dream of a family of their own had been eclipsed by an invasive guilt that seemingly sprung out of nowhere.
She began to think that the more she wanted a life and family with William, the less she would remember of her departed children and their father, as if she were trying to selfishly replace them.
This had caused her to severely recoil from her new beloved, she kept to herself, William was kept at a distance, and their marriage was based on the fact that he loved her and wanted to make her happy and what made her happy was him just leaving her alone for the most part and making sure she was taken care of.
She hadn't just been difficult for the past few months.
It had been years of it.
"I appreciate everything you do for me, and everything you've done." She says next, tears coming to her eyes as he holds onto her hand with both of his. "I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I never meant to embarrass you, I just..." She trails off, shaking her head, and a small smile pulls at his lips.
"...You realize that every Sunday, you're up before I am, getting ready to go to Church for a God you don't even believe in." He reminds her that he isn't the only one to make sacrifices. "You don't do that for you, Rosie. You do it for me. Even with these awful headaches and nose bleeds you've been having." He adds. "Although I must admit, seeing the look on brother Everette's face when preacher was talking about casting out demons, and your nose started bleeding, was pretty damn funny." He chuckles, and the sound brings a smile to Rosie's face, his hand moving to her cheek, rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin. "I know you've been through a lot, baby." He says, Rosie putting her hand over his, taking in a deep breath as two tears break her lash line. "I know there's still things you haven't gotten over, people you loved that you're still grieving...I understand that. But, you can't live carrying that. You can keep them with you without dragging the mourning along, too. There are some things in this world that we cannot undo." He continues gently, raising his brows. "When people pass away, they can't come back. Not in this lifetime, at least." He adds. "And it's things like that — no matter how hard it is — we just have to let go, and accept when they just can't be changed, and go forward."
"Yeah." She can't form the word, but she mouths it, her face scrunching as more drops of water hit her cheeks.
Her ribs tense around her heart at the idea of such a thing, knowing he very well has a point.
"And you know I'm here for you if you ever need anything." He says next, his fingers reaching out to wipe at the water.
"Thank you." She says, sniffling, wiping her eyes as she adds, "you better go, you're gonna be late."
"Are you alright?" He asks her again, and she nods, giving one final wipe to her face.
"Yes." She assures him.
"Alright, I'll see you tonight." He moves to get up but she stops him, sitting up, abruptly hugging him to her, tightly.
He's startled at first, not used to her being the first one to initiate anything intimate between the two of them, before he relaxes and hugs her to him.
"I love you." He says it like a reassurance, as if something is more wrong than what she's letting on.
She gives him an extra snug squeeze, her eyes closing briefly as she takes note of the moment, leaving an impression of it on her memory.
"I love you, too, William." She replies. "Thank you."
He doesn't know it, but it's a thousand "thank you's" wrapped into one, a gratefulness for years of dedication to her...
"I'll see you when I get back." He kisses her cheek before the tip of his finger brushes against her nose.
"See you." She says back as he turns back to the door and disappears down the hall.
Within the next hour, Rosie finds herself in the bathtub, hot water encapsulating her body as the box fan blows on her in the corner, her thick hair pulled on top of her head to keep it from getting wet as steam coats her skin.
She closes her eyes, relishing in the peace and quiet.
The shattering of glass jolts her eyes back open, the water sloshing from the tub as she hears two sets of steps rushing up the stairs, her chest heaving with breath as she looks at the locked door, hearing the knob being yanked on once before a young girl's, "Mom, Bobby's throwing his ball in the house!" slips under the door, Rosie's nerves on edge in utter bewilderment before a boy's voice adds, "Mom, Susanna won't quit tattling!"
Bobby and Susanna...the very names she had decided on when Constance had secretly told her she ran her blood to see what the gender's might've been and it was a boy and girl.
Surely she's having another moment, they've been more frequent lately, but she's never had one concerning her children.
It was always Peter.
Now, she scrambles to the door, lurching from the tub and wrapping in a towel, expecting to see them gone when she opens the door, but they keep bickering as she gets closer, unlocking the door and yanking it open to see two sets of sky blue eyes, accompanied by the very features Rosie had always imagined their children would have had.
She looks down at them, and they look up at her, looking to one another as she seems utterly confused.
"...Uh, Earth to mom?" Susanna snaps her fingers as Bobby's face crinkles.
"Put some clothes on." He says to her.
"Is she supposed to bathe in her clothes, you nitwit?" Susanna asks him sarcastically, her hands on her hips.
"Is she supposed to help pack in a towel, Susanna?" Bobby says back in the same sarcastic tone.
"Pack?" Rosie's further thrown off, and the two kids once again look at one another as if silently speaking.
"Um...we're packing, remember?" Bobby asks his mother.
"Packing for what?"
"The move." Susanna says it as if it's common sense, and Rosie takes a step back.
"This isn't right." She mumbles, shaking her head. "You're supposed to be gone by now." She continues.
"What?" Bobby asks her, looking just as confused as she is.
"Mom, what're you talking about?" Susanna adds.
"You're not real." Rosie says, and her children come closer.
"Mom, you — "
" — You're not real!" She puts her hands over her ears so she doesn't hear them, her chest heaving as tears cast down her face, her mind playing sick jokes on her once more but taking it further this time.
"Mom, you're scaring us." Susanna says as she watches Rosie go into meltdown mode, sitting on the tub, her face down, her hands over her ears as she cries.
"Dad, mom's acting weird!" Bobby flees the bathroom to retrieve their father while Susanna steps closer to Rosie, reaching out and touching her shoulder.
Rosie tenses up upon the feeling of her, looking up expecting to see William, only to be met with the up close and personal sight of her angelic looking daughter.
How perfect she is.
"Susanna," Rosie whispers it in disbelief, completely struck with how this could be possible, perhaps she really has lost her mind, but the selfish part of her that's getting to experience the sound of her baby's voice and feel her touch refuses to question how exactly it's possible.
Her hands reach out to hold her daughter's face, the face she's dreamed of since she discovered she was pregnant.
That same wide smile that had graced Rosie's face when she heard her heart beat comes back, unadulterated joy filling her once again.
"My Susanna." Her voice shutters and Susanna looks on her mother's happiness as Rosie kisses her cheek, and the two of them embrace tightly as Bobby comes in and sees them, running to Rosie for a hug as well.
She welcomes it, kissing his temple, clinging to the both of them as tightly as they cling to her.
Sensing movement in front of her, Rosie looks up to see Peter standing in the doorway, watching them, a satisfied look on his face because his hard work in this instance has paid off.