Chapter Eleven: Wednesday, June 22, 2005 Glen Oak, CA
…
A/N:
I had forgotten how sassy Ruthie got between the end of the 9th and start of the 10th season; I also forgot exactly how pushy Rose could be.
….
Annie Camden was pulled out of her thoughts by an insistent knock at the back door. Her thoughts had been mostly about Matt's visit last weekend and his odd behavior—it was especially odd considering Mary was back in the States and living in Chicago now, which of course explained why Annie hadn't been able to reach Carlos at his apartment in New York. He was in Chicago. With Mary. It made perfect sense. It meant they were going to reconcile. Mary had just needed a little time a way to sort out her priorities. It wasn't like she and Eric had never any bumps in the road; they'd had plenty. But it had always worked out in the end. Matt was just…just worried, she supposed, now that Mary and Carlos were leaving New York.
Of course, Annie had been so distracted by that girl Rose, who just showed up at the church on Sunday out of the blue and all but forced her way into the pew, to squeeze in between Simon and Matt.
Annie liked the idea of Simon seeing a girl his own age—not that she knew exactly how old this Caroline was. She'd seen Caroline's picture. Simon hadn't shown it to her. She felt horrible for snooping…except for the part where felt it was her right as a mother, and in any case, Caroline couldn't possibly be younger than seventeen. It was still too young.
But really, if Annie was being honest with herself, she preferred the idea of staying single for a while—a good long while—because it seemed like he'd jumped from one girlfriend to another ever since he and Cecilia split up. More than anything, however, she didn't like the idea of him seeing—
"Rose!" She didn't quite mean to sound so startled when she opened the door to find the very object of her vexed thoughts standing there, smiling. It was an awkward, condescending sort of smile, although in all fairness, the girl—young woman—probably didn't mean it that way. She'd seen what kind of car Rose drove, both the night her and Simon went out, the night they kissed on the front porch, and Sunday, when Simon walked her to her car after church. It wasn't the kind of car she and Eric could afford. Not that having that kind of money was a bad thing. Richard and Rosina were well off and they were both grounded. Kind. Sarah was a lovely young woman, every much a daughter to Annie as Kevin—who also had some sort of nest egg tucked up somewhere—was a son to her. She returned Rose's smile as best as she could. "I'm sorry, Simon isn't here right now."
"That's okay." Rose came in, uninvited.
"Well…um, I was just making some sandwiches for the boys for lunch. Would you like to give me a hand?"
"No, thank you. Cooking isn't really my thing."
"Oh. Well." She forced another smile and went back to assembling the sandwiches while Rose prowled around her kitchen like an art appraiser who found the painting she was looking at sorely wanting. "Would you like to join us?" Annie asked, anyway. Just because Rose wasn't a very gracious guest didn't mean she had to be an ungracious host.
"I don't really like sandwiches, either. Do you have any soup?"
"Sure, why not?" Annie reached into the cupboard for a can of tomato soup.
"I'd prefer the chicken noodle," Rose told her.
"Chicken noodle it is." Annie opened the can and emptied its contents into a pan. "What brings you by?"
"I wanted to ask you about Simon."
"Don't you think you should be asking Simon about Simon?" Ruthie said.
Annie had no idea how long her youngest daughter had been sitting on the back staircase, listening, but for once, she wasn't cross with Ruthie for eavesdropping.
Rose, on the other hand, looked more than a little vexed. "Don't you think you shouldn't listen in on other people's conversations?"
Ruthie smirked. It was infuriating—but at the moment, also gratifying.
Please forgive me, Annie sent up a silent prayer. I know it's wrong to feel this way, but come on. This girl…if you've sent her to test my patience…. She sighed.
"You must be an only child, am I right?" Ruthie asked their unexpected lunch guest.
"As a matter of fact, yes."
"So, you have no idea what it's like having a house full of brothers and sisters."
Which wasn't really fair. Sarah was an only child; she had never been anything but gracious and kind when she visited.
"Having a house full of brothers and sisters is no excuse to eavesdrop."
"What did you want to know about Simon?" Annie cut in, before Ruthie could cross the line from inappropriate but so-very-wrongly-satisfying snark to something genuinely inappropriate.
"Does he have a girlfriend?"
Annie blinked in surprise. No. Shock. That was definitely a question she should be asking Simon. "Why do you ask?"
"And why not ask him?" said Ruthie.
"I did ask him," Rose informed them both. "On Sunday, when I tried to get him to come out to lunch with me after Church service and he refused, I asked him if it was because he was seeing somebody and he said, 'not really'. What kind of an answer is that? Either he has a girlfriend or he doesn't, right? I mean, if he likes someone, but she doesn't like him, there's no point in holding out, especially if he has someone who likes him right here." She sounded so despondent that for half a second, Annie almost felt sorry for her. Maybe it really wasn't her fault she was so awful. "Is it his ex?" Rose asked. "The one who lives around here, Cecilia? He talked about her all through our date the other night."
"I don't think so," Annie said, though she wouldn't mind it if it were true.
"Simon isn't seeing Cecilia," Ruthie said. "And if you have any more questions about my brother, you should ask him."
Rose heaved a sigh. "I should go."
"What about lunch?" Annie asked. The soup was done, the sandwiches were fixed.
"I'm not hungry. Thank you, Mrs. Camden. I really appreciate you talking to me." And with that, she was out the door again.
Ruthie rolled her eyes—then she leveled a look at Annie. "Don't even think about it, Mom."
"Think about what?"
"Simon and Cecilia."
"How—?"
"I'm me, remember. I'll go get the boys washed up for lunch."
Annie sighed. "Thanks" But she was thinking about it. Cecilia was already practically part of the family. Annie had never quite liked it when she and Martin were dating, although really that was between them, and Simon hadn't seemed to mind, but then Cecilia and Martin broke up and Simon came home and for that one wonderful summer, things were finally back to normal. "That's all I want," Annie said to God. "Normal. Loving. Happy." Happy children in happy marriages, living happy lives.
….
Ruthie felt only the tiniest bit of guilt sneaking into her brother's room, later that day, when Simon came home from work and headed almost immediately into the shower. Thank goodness he'd left his wallet and his phone in his room when he came in to grab a change of clothes before heading across the hall to the bathroom. Ruthie had no interest in her brother's wallet. His phone, however, was another matter. She listened carefully to the sound of the shower running while she scrolled through the phone book in his phone.
Caroline Chandler-Wells.
She smiled and copied the number quickly onto the notebook she'd brought with her, just for that purpose, before setting Simon's phone exactly where she'd found it on his bed. She listened at his door bedroom door to make sure the coast was clear before making her escape and darting back up to her room in the attic. She had noticed that in addition to Caroline Chandler-Wells, there had also been a number for Cathy Chandler-Wells, Caroline's mother. That was certainly interesting—but not the person Ruthie wanted to talk to.
…..
Thursday, June 23, 2005, New York City
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The message on Caroline's voicemail was certainly a strange one. Or…maybe not, given the way Simon has spoken of his younger sister. "Sneaky" would be, perhaps, too strong a word. Caroline was sure Grandfather would use the word "clever".
And no doubt impetuous.
She snickered.
The message was simple enough, for all that it left her wondering:
"Hi, this is Ruthie Camden, Simon's sister. I figure he probably told you all about me. Well, all of us. I'd like to talk to you, but I don't want you to call the house because we have one land line, and I don't want anybody to know I called you or for you to talk to anybody else but me. I definitely don't want you talking to Mom or Dad. Believe me. You don't want to talk to them. I'll call you back tonight. Five o'clock, your time. And don't worry. Everything's fine. It's just time we talk, woman to woman."
Impetuous indeed….
She leaned back against the tree, book in hand until, at five on the dot, her cell phone rang. "Hello?"
"Caroline?"
"Ruthie?"
"Yeah. Sorry if I worried you or anything."
"You said not to worry, so I didn't," Caroline told her. It was mostly the truth. Something had been niggling at her all week. She couldn't quite place a finger on it, but as Ruthie began telling her about Rose—after a brief exchange of pleasantries—Caroline had a firmer grasp on her…not quite fears, but…something. The feeling had started last week, but she'd been largely successful in convincing herself it was all in her imagination, especially after Simon's email and the phone conversation they'd had last Saturday.
Mostly, she was afraid her sense of him, of his feelings and emotions, had only been imagined, because with each day that passed, it seemed to get fainter and fainter, so that it was all too easy to believe she'd only imagined it.
Caroline knew of her parents' connection to one another, and how distance affected it, just as she knew of the lesser connection her father shared with Uncle Elliott. She had a stronger sense of other people's emotions than her father or siblings seemed to—except perhaps for Christopher—but how easy would it be for her to imagine what she wanted to be there, to project her feelings onto Simon, onto a link between them, that wasn't really there?
"I'm not saying you have anything to worry about," Ruthie concluded. "You don't. Even Mom doesn't like Rose and…it's not like Mom likes everybody, you should have seen how she was with Robbie, when he first moved in, but right now, I think Mom wants to see Simon with just about anybody but you, and I don't think that's fair."
"Simon hasn't spoken much about your parents." But she supposed she shouldn't be surprised they didn't like her, even though they hadn't met her. It seemed the way with those Above to distrust strangers, to dislike or even hate people they didn't know anything about.
Yet, she knew they loved him. That had to count for something.
"I suppose they're concerned because I'm younger than he is," Caroline opined.
"Age is just a number. Unless it's Mary dating a guy old enough to be our dad. Besides, ever since Simon got back from New York he's seemed…different. A good kind of different. If you had anything to do with that, then I like you."
Caroline snickered. "I'm not sure I can take the credit for whatever changes Simon has gone through. But…perhaps I helped nudge him in the right direction. Or at least the direction he wanted to go."
"You did more than 'nudge', believe me. Look, I've got to go. I just wanted you to know that maybe you should call Simon or something. I don't think he's serious about Rose, but she's pretty pushy. He might need a reminder that you care about him. Maybe you could come visit or something," she added hopefully.
"Maybe." She knew it would never happen. There were too many risks. "I'm glad you called, Ruthie. I'm glad we talked. I hope we get the chance to talk again."
"Me too."
And with that, Ruthie hung up, leaving Caroline feeling slightly bemused—but happier despite the reason for Ruthie's call. Rose. How could such a seemingly difficult person have such a lovely name?
"I guess even roses have thorns."
Caroline closed her eyes and concentrated on the place deep down inside, the one where her connection to Simon seemed to live. She felt it there, a light thrumming that vibrated in time with her own heartbeat. It was faint; he was so far away. But she was sure it was real. She was sure he felt it, too, even if he might not know what he was feeling.
She tucked her book back into her bag and headed back to the storm drain. Once Below, she went straight to Mouse's workshop.
