January 7
4 p.m.
Rosemary scrubbed the old clanky metal pot with all the venom that was swirling around in her. How dare Dottie accuse her of harboring a secret! Why, she was just trying to help a dear friend, and that "dear friend" had turned around and bit her. Well, that was the last time she was going to give a care. She washed out the pot with ferocity. Oh sure, they said that only hurting people hurt people, well, that Dottie Ramsey must be in a world of hurt! For what would cause one of her best friends to push her away and give her the cold shoulder when all she was trying to do was help? It stung more than she cared to admit.
Rosemary pulled the pot out of the sudsy water, dunked it into the clean water, and set it out to dry on the countertop. Swiftly, she swung a skillet over to the washbasin and started scrubbing at the dour collection of old food and grime, but her energy fueled by Dottie's words, had left her. Now she just felt…cold. Alone. Confused.
A kick in her midsection startled her. Oh, what a ninny she'd been. She couldn't afford the luxury of getting all worked up, at least not now, for the baby. She rubbed her belly and took a few deep breaths. Walking over to the window she noticed a few stray snowflakes had started to fall, not accumulating to much, but the skies were white and dreary with the promise of more. Movement caught her eye as Elizabeth and Abigail emerged from Elizabeth's row house and walked together down the path leading to town. Theirs was a friendship of mutual sharing, was it not? Oh, Hope Valley held some of the truest friends she had ever known, yet, if she were being brutally honest, she did keep a large portion of herself closed off. The real her. The part of her that had hurts and secrets. But keeping a wall up, it truly was the only way, right? Like Dottie said, opening up to others, even those who were considered friends, could lead to one being stabbed in the back. She was already in a world of pain, so why risk it?
Her breath caused the windowpane to fog, and she pulled her sleeve up over her hand and rubbed it against the cool glass. According to appearances, everything was running along smoothly in her life. A small scoff emerged from her lips. If she had everyone believing that, why take a risk by being honest? She'd just tuck her little secret away again, and hope not to be disturbed by it again. But even she knew that was hopeful, if not delusional, thinking. That secret had been a part of her since her birth, something she could never change. It tugged away at the sensitive parts of her. She dealt with it the only way she knew how, by delving into the lives of others and being her dramatic self. Most of the time it was genuine, her dramatics that is, but every now and then, she'd play it up as a means to escape. For if she were overly dramatic it would keep them from getting to close, which in turn would keep them from unearthing her secret.