"You said WHAT?"

"I said no. I'm sorry," said Rose somnolently.

"But why?" Abby moaned. "I don't understand you. Dad has been dead for more than fifteen years." She sat on her bed next to her mother and heaved a sigh.

"Look!" said Rose, overreacting and irritated. "Maybe someday you will understand what it's like to loose someone you love. But I hope to God you never will."

"You should have said yes."

"Well, too bad, cause I'm not going to." At this point, for dramatic effect, Abby closed her hands around her throat making choking sounds. "Cute," Rose said. "But I'm still not saying yes."

"WHY!" Abby was so confused. She had never been in love, so she couldn't possibly comprehend what her mother was going through.

"When I die…Jack is the one I want to spend eternity with. How can I promise to love someone forever with all my heart if I really mean 'not as much as him'?"

"Hello?" Abby knocked on her mother's head. "James probably feels the same way. He lost his wife, remember?" Rose shrugged. "A match made in Heaven…" Abby stood up and kissed Rose's cheek. "I know you'll make the right decision…in time." And she went to the sitting room to read, leaving Rose alone to contemplate her pathetic situation.

&&&

For the next few days, things were very uncomfortable between James and Rose. Rose and Abby would walk Margaret home from St. Martin's, where she was enrolled (that's how they met—when James was bringing Margaret to school) and when he came to pick her up, he wouldn't say much. Just stand there and stare at his hands accompanied by a bit of small talk. He felt rejected, she felt guilty. Every time she saw him, she felt as if someone were squeezing her heart. She thought it was just plain guilt.

"It's not guilt," Abby told her.

"What is it then?" She asked skeptically.

"Regret."

And this got Rose thinking. Maybe she should go out with him. What could it hurt? At least then she would know if she could learn to love again. But she just couldn't bring herself to say yes. It was too difficult. Yes, Jack told her to go on with her life. But every time she thought of saying yes to James, she thought of Jack, sitting up in the heavens, glad that she's going on, but incredibly sad because he feels she know longer loves him.

"Imagine his face when you said no." Abby told her. Rose closed her eyes and saw Jack. He was frowning and shaking his head.

"This is so hard." Rose said with a heavy sigh. "It's not fair."

"Nothing is."

Closing her eyes, Rose made her decision. Without a word, she stood up, gathered her courage and he skirts, and left her apartment. Almost angry, she marched up a flight of stairs and went walked down the hall to room 4C. She banged on the door three times. After a pause, she saw the door knob jiggling. Rose's heart was pounding in her chest. She felt nervous. She felt…happy. The door opened and James was standing in the threshold. Rose stood on her tip toes and gripped his shirt collar. She yanked him toward her and pressed her mouth firmly to his. And they kissed. Rose could feel emotions she hadn't felt in so long, and she pulled away.

James looked bewildered. But happy. Delighted, even. "I guess you changed your mind."

"We'll take it slow," she said. He nodded. "Dinner then? Tonight?"

"Pick you up at eight." He was trying not to seem so happy, for embarrassment reasons. Then Rose left. As she walked down the stairs to her apartment, she couldn't help but smile.

&&&

Abby couldn't stop smiling while she helped her mother get ready. "You won't be sorry," she kept saying. Rose just shrugged. She was feeling a bit guilty. Partly because she was actually excited.

"After all I've been through with your father, how can I just jump into the arms of another man?"

"Because he told you to. And you're not exactly jumping."

"Yes, well…" Rose fumbled with her hair. Abby advised her to keep it down. "What am I going to wear?"

&&&

Three quick raspy knocks gave James away. "Shit. I'm not ready yet!" Rose cried to Abby, though in fact she was. "Go answer the door. Let him in or something."

"But…"

"Please."

"Fine." Abby left, calling, "Coming!"

Rose sat down on her bed and took a deep breath. "So Jack," she whispered, "The day has come. I knew it would. But I hoped it wouldn't. I'm going on, though. I'm trying, I mean. James is a good man. But you are still the one for me. No one could ever top you."

Rose could hear sweet little Margaret (who Abby was watching while their parents were out) as she entered the apartment. With a deep breath, Rose emerged. She was wearing a light pink dress trimmed in white and low cut. A beaded necklace was clasped around her neck, and matching earring dangled from her ear lobes. Her still beautiful red curls spiraled around her face and fell upon her shoulders and half way down her back. She hardly looked old enough to be a mother. Because when Rose stepped out of her room that night, she was glowing. Glowing the same way she did when she was but 17. Glowing the way she did when she met Jack. James was breathless. He couldn't help but stare at the beauty in front of her. The silence that passed between them was a comfortable one. James felt like he could stand there and stare at her all night. But his little daughter tugging at his sleeve brought him back to reality.

"Yes…uh…Margaret. What?" He bent down to her level and patted her head.

Margaret leaned and whispered in James's ear, but Rose could still hear. "Papa, do you love Rose?" James stood up and blushed.

"Time to go, I guess," he said, and his voice broke, cracking like an adolescent teenager's, causing Rose to laugh.

"Right," she said, "We won't be late, girls. Don't wait up."

As they walked down the street, not touching at all, Rose tried to think of some way to instigate a conversation. Ask about his daughter. Ask about his job. Ask about anything, stupid! You can't stay silent forever. Oh, God, why isn't he asking me anything. SAY SOMETHING YOU IDIOT! She gave herself a mental kick. "So…" she began.

But she didn't finish because James said, "We're here." He indicated a restaurant—fancy but not too fancy. Just her taste.

"Everything looks good," she said as she skimmed the items on the menu after they were seated. Stupid! Is that all you can say? Ask him something…say something…you don't know anything about him…oh no…unusually long silence. Rose, you complete imbecile! "So, James. Tell me. What do you do?"

"Oh. Uh. I'm a director. And a writer. Playwright mostly. I work over at the Independence Theatre."

"Really? That must be fascinating? I just saw a play there last week. What was it called? Uhh…The Legend I think. Do you direct it?"

"Yeah…uh…yes," he said shyly, "And wrote it."

"Oh, wow! It was fantastic! Really!"

"No, no, it was crap! Really, pure crap."

"You're being self deprecating," she told him, unable to stop the enthusiasm in her voice. "You're very talented. I wish I could write like that. Abby wants to be a writer. And a scientist."

"She will be. That girl is so smart; she could be anything she wants."

Rose beamed in pride. "She is smart. So is Margaret. She's best in French, I think." Rose would know, as she was the child's French teacher.

A waiter came to their table, looking quite pompous. His nose was enormous and he was very tall. "Have you decided what you would like to eat?" His voice was very low and Rose smiled and tried not to laugh. James shot her a glance and she couldn't bear it any longer. She didn't know why, but giggles came out of her mouth, which she tried to disguise by coughing. James did the same. Finally, they managed to order their food. And the whole night, they talked and talked about all the things they had in common and all the things they didn't. She loved the way James's face lit up when he spoke of his daughter. And she loved his job. It was something that required passion and skill. And that was what attracted Rose above all else.

Rose and James had finished eating and were about to walk home when rain began. They stood outside under a canopy in the doorway and waited for it to stop. They could hear the ping ping ping of drops falling around them. Then a crash of thunder. Startled, Rose jumped and scooted close to James. She shivered and didn't pull away when James put his arm around her warm her. After another roar of thunder and a flash of lightning, it started to pour.

"Well this is just perfect," said Rose cynically.

"You don't like the rain?"

"It's not that. It's just…"

"Because I love the rain."

"You do?" Rose looked up at him and smiled.

"Yup. Always have. Always will."

"Is there a reason?"

He nodded and grinned. "Good things always happen to me when it rains. When Margaret was born, it was raining. And if it's raining on an opening night, the play always goes so well. And right now. It's raining, and I'm with you."

"Oh, James," Rose said. She was touched. "Thank you." Thank you? She thought, Is that all you can say? Damn it! Say something more. "I guess the rain is good to me, too." She then turned her head away from James's handsome face and looked out into the downpour. "Well, it doesn't look like it's letting up anytime soon. Do you want to make a run for it?" say

He found her eyes and stared into them for a long moment "I have a better idea," he declared, "I say we walk." He extended his arm, and without hesitation, Rose placed her hand in is, and they walked home happily in the pouring rain.