January 30
Rosemary stroked Sidney's soft fur absently as the cat sat cuddled in her lap. Just moments before, she'd listened as the Model T roared to life and puttered towards Main Street. Did she do what was right sending Harriet away? Yes, there was no way she was capable of dealing with such an enormous past here and now. She'd need time to process it, and to clue Lee into her story, however dark it may be. Her throat tightened. Sidney, sensing her distress, stood on her lap and nuzzled under her chin, an action she often did that brought a smile to Rosemary's face.
She couldn't help it, a small smile touched the edge of her lips in spite of the tumultuous and awkward situation that had just left her house. Oh, how she wished they would have packaged up her feelings and taken them away too. If only it was that easy.
"Sidney, girl… what's your momma to do?" She scratched the kitten under the chin for a few pleasurable moments after which, Sidney promptly sat on her haunches and started to lick at her paws, bringing one paw at a time up to her rosy tongue for a washing.
"If only I could do that too— Wash away this whole situation. What was she thinking just storming into my home, my town, like that? Oh, I just wish…" She knotted her fists and then released them. Sure, she had a right to be angry but that anger settled in the pit of her stomach next to the innocent occupant there. She couldn't, no wouldn't, allow this to affect her baby's health. With Sidney slinking off the settee in search of something to entertain her, she was left alone with the little one whose kicks were daily becoming stronger.
She sighed and put a hand on the baby squirming within her womb. Sure, he or she was still just a little bundle, but she already knew that no matter what, she would always love this baby with all her heart and soul. That is what made all of this so hard. How could she possibly be a good mother when her own birth mother, and even the woman who had raised her, had failed her so miserably? It was as if she was set up for failure. Things hadn't been the same for her since that day, years ago…
As the carriage pulled out of the drive, with her mother inside, fifteen year old Rosemary ran from the window where she'd been watching the departure and approached the sunroom. Since Father's death last year, the space had become her mother's personal quarters, with her bed and most of her belongings stowed there. Amalie, the family maid, had insisted on the move, encouraging Mother that the sun would help ward off her headaches and perhaps improve her mood. But more often than not, when Rosemary would sneak a peek into the room, the grand curtains would be drawn and the room would be cloaked in darkness, a visible feeling of sadness in the air. And that was when, more than once, she had observed her mother looking at a photo, with tears streaming down her face. The questions had plagued her for far too long: What was the photo and why did it make her sad? Today, with her mother out of town, she would find the photo. Maybe it would give her some of the answers she craved.
As the door opened, the stale air of the room rushed to her nostrils. Today, the curtain was opened partway, allowing her a partial view of the room. Her mother's rocker sat facing the window a blanket draped haphazardly over the seat. She took a look back over her shoulder before tiptoeing into the room and gently closing the door behind her. She approached the rocker and slowly lifted the corner of the blanket. Sure enough, there sat the wooden box, the one Mother secured the photo in.
Her hands shook with anticipation as she grabbed the wooden box and opened it. A photo was lying face down, some scrawling on the back. She lifted the photo and turned it around observing the image displayed there. Why, it was not of Father, but of another man! Another man who looked quite decidedly foreign, his long cigar hanging out of his mouth and his smile charming, yet smug. She'd flipped the photo back over and read the unfamiliar handwriting, "To my Dear One… I will return for you. Sincerely yours, Edgar." The photo was old, more than likely from years and years ago. She lifted the photo to get a better glance and—
A creak near the door caused her to snap her head up. Amalie, the family maid, was there watching her.
"You shouldn't be snooping through your mother's things, miss." Amalie tried to chastise her, but only a few years her senior, she had more sympathy in her eyes than correction.
She tilted the photo so Amalie could see it. "Do you know of this?"
"I can't speak of that matter." Her cheeks blossomed red.
"I have a right to know! Who is this? Why does my mother pine over his photo daily?" Her voice had turned into a shriek and her throat burned.
Amalie shook her head. "I am not the one to ask."
Rosemary sank into the rocker, placing the wooden box in her lap, and looked deeply at the picture wishing it could answer the questions she had.
"I can't help you… but I know someone who might help you." Amalie's whisper came so quiet she barely heard it.
"Who?" She stood up and whirled around, her heart racing.
Amalie motioned over to the mantle over the fireplace, where numerous family pictures were displayed. Pointing to the last one on the right the whispered: "her."
Rosemary immediately went close to the mantle and pulled down the picture.
"Aunt Sidney?" She questioned.
"Yes, now hush… we don't want to be overheard. I will prepare you an overnight bag and tell your mother you've gone for a visit. You will get your answers there."
Rosemary's head spun. It's what she had wished for all along: answers. But now that the opportunity presented itself, she found herself floundering. What if this whole ordeal was bigger than she could handle? What was the secret she would find?
"God will go with you." Amalie gave her a small compassionate hug, her eyes shimmering.
If there was one thing Rosemary knew to be true, it was that Amalie was the most faithful of friends and was leading her this direction because she thought it was best. She'd just have to trust her judgment. She would go on the journey and she'd just have to trust that God would help her handle what she'd discover.
It took her a mere thirty minutes to gather her items and have the butler drive her to the station where she took a long train ride up north towards Hudson Bay. As every mile passed, she knew she was getting closer to the truth. What she didn't know is if she'd like it or not.
It was on the long train ride to Aunt Sidney's, that she rehearsed the questions she had over and over again. If anyone would help her, it would be Aunt Sidney. She was the only one, besides her father, whom she felt connected to. But Aunt Sidney was even more honest than Father had been. Father sought to protect her, keep her safe.
After the train departed she caught a hansom cab to Aunt Sidney's simple home by Hudson Bay. Aunt Sidney had been initially surprised at the visit, but Rosemary had a feeling the moment she opened the door she knew why she had come.
After settling in with a cup of tea in the parlor, Rosemary pushed the teacup and saucer aside. She had no time for small talk.
"I have come here for answers, Aunt Sidney. You've always been one to shoot straight with me. We are close, are we not?"
Aunt Sidney's face was white and straight. "Yes, dear we are. But if you are hinting at what I think you are… I am not sure I am the one you need to hear it from."
Her face fell. If Aunt Sidney wouldn't tell her, how would she ever find out the secret?
Aunt Sidney fiddled with her napkin nervously. "Tell me more about what caused you to come out here to see me today."
She told her how she'd finally found the photo that caused so many of mother's tears and how it was of a man she did not know.
Aunt Sidney sat quietly, assessing her, estimating if she could handle the weight of her words.
Finally she spoke.
"I was given permission by your Father, God rest his soul, to share this news if it ever became absolutely necessary. My thought is that he would never want it to be spoken of. But now he is gone. The responsibility of this disclosure… it now lies with your mother. You must speak with her on these matters. I cannot overstep."
Rosemary pushed away from the table, anger thumping in her heart mingled with sadness and abandonment.
"Not you too! I thought I could trust you. I need to know. I need to know why my family feels broken and why my heart does not feel like it has a home."
Her aunt reached for her tea, but her fingers trembled and she placed the teacup promptly back in its saucer.
"My mother, I dare not speak ill of her… but I'll be an old maid before I ever get an answer from her. As you know, she has always left me to my own devices. I've always known her to be sentimental and sad, and I grew up thinking it was normal, but now… now I am practically a lady. I know something is awry. What is her secret, Aunt Sidney?" She pleaded with her blue eyes. She'd get down on the ground and beg the woman to tell her. She knew whatever it was it must be most life changing.
Aunt Sidney cupped her forehead in her hand. Rosemary could tell she was under conflict on what to do. Finally, she arose from the table.
"You are right dear. All you have is me. My sister… has become quite invalid and I can't imagine her ever confiding in you." She stood up. "It is time to tell you the truth. I just pray it will not cause too many repercussions on my relationship with my sister. But I am willing to take that chance… for you."
She linked arms with her and took her to the drawing room, a room that overlooked the bay. She sank into the plush chair near the bay window and motioned for Rosemary to take the one near her.
After she'd settled in, her heart still hammering away, Aunt Sidney reached for her hand and sandwiched it between her two own.
"Darling, this is not easy to say. I do wish your father had taken care of matters before he passed. Oh, listen to me accusing the dead. Forgive me. Neither he nor I could see his death coming at such an inopportune time or what it would do to your mother." She looked flustered, then took a deep breath and calmed. "I will tell you a story from our past now. As you know, your mother- my sister, Catherine, is the oldest in our family, followed by myself then our little sister, Avery. When she was young, she was always quite the caretaker, a mother hen to us. She practically had to be with our mother and father off chasing their social obligations."
Rosemary nodded, eager for any information she could get. Aunt Sidney had told her stories of their upbringing, but nothing like this.
"Well, because of this arrangement, Catherine did not marry until later… much later. One day while attending a Broadway performance, through mutual friends she was introduced to a man named Edgar, a musician and director of the arts from Australia. She came back her eyes beaming, her soul more alive than we had ever seen. And not long after, letters began pouring in from her newfound suitor. He even came to our home in Winnipeg several times. I'm not sure of all the details, as I was away at college for part of the time, but Edgar, who was fast becoming famous for his directing, had decided to expand his repertoire to tutoring students for the theater. Catherine wanted more than anything to join him out East, but because of our mother's declining health, she stayed. It was her mother hen tendency. Edgar and Catherine continued to correspond. That must have been when Edgar sent the photo. Through letters he had asked her to marry him upon his next return, and she said yes. It wasn't the most official of proposals, but she anticipated it with all her heart. Edgar promised to return for her after his tutelage school was established."
Rosemary nodded. So far the story sounded like a perfect love story, but as she knew, the ending would not be.
"In the mean time, our youngest sister, Avery, had returned to our family home with her young son. She had been recently widowed when her husband was killed during active duty. We all felt horribly for her. After several months of staying with us, it was apparent she was becoming quite miserable being holed up in a small town. Your… Aunt Avery, have you heard of her?"
Rosemary nodded. "Just briefly. I've never met her, though. Isn't she overseas or something like that?"
"Yes, she is. But Avery— she has always been 'knock them dead' gorgeous, adventurous, and well, just of a different mindset than Catherine and I. Anyway, Catherine, always being the mother hen took it on as her assignment to help the poor dear before she drove the whole household batty. One day, after a long telephone call with Edgar, she had an idea. She insisted that Avery go out east and be one of the first students of Edgar's new tutelage starting that fall. Our father could pay Edgar handsomely for his work with Avery, Avery would be happy with adventure while also learning a new trade— acting. So it was set. Avery and her son went out to Washington, D.C. and inhabited a small apartment while Avery learned how to perform and become an actress."
Rosemary shrugged. So far, this seemed like a pretty nice story.
Aunt Sidney paused.
"Well what happened next?"
"Well, dear this is where the part of the story takes a turn… I wouldn't want you to-"
She lifted her hand. "Please continue, Auntie. I am quite grown up."
Aunt Sidney eyed her and then began her story again. "It wasn't long after, that the letters from Edgar came at a slower pace, and eventually stopped. Catherine was distraught but held onto hope, perhaps Edgar had been too busy with his newfound success, at least I think that is what she told herself. It was that New Year, Edgar returned with Avery, a glittering diamond on her finger. They had eloped and were now officially husband and wife. The fun, unpredictable Avery had stolen Edgar right out from under Catherine's nose. I, for one, thought she did him a favor, for if a man's affections can be tilted that easily, he is not worth having, but Catherine, she took it all as deep rejection. The only man she had loved was now married to her sister."
Oh dear, no wonder Mother felt glum and trapped in her old memories. It was like after all these years she still never got over him.
"But what of Father?" She questioned.
Sidney's eyes warmed. "Oh, yes, Phillip. He came on the scene not long after. A better man would be hard to find. Did you know your father wanted to marry your mother after only two dates? He was completely smitten by her. He was a faithful man and all his life he loved her, and you too. I hope you know that."
"Oh yes, he was simply the best father." She smiled, recalling his gentle and friendly face. "So then I was born? But Mother was still secretly in love with her old beau? If that why my life has felt so fragmented?"
Aunt Sidney's head dipped. "Well… that part of the story is quite… interesting." She placed a hand on Rosemary's. "Dear, this part is quite hard to—"
"I am nearly a woman now and need to know." Rosemary recited again for her Aunt's benefit.
"Yes, or course. Well, Catherine and Phillip were adjusting well to married life when an expecting Avery returned back on our doorstop."
"Oh?" Rosemary was surprised at this turn of events.
She nodded. "Yes. Her husband, Edgar, did not know, and his tutelage job was short lived for it opened up an even better opportunity in Paris. Their plans were to go overseas where Avery's son would be enrolled in full-time boarding school, enabling them to live a glamorous life submerged in the theater: Avery as the star actress, and Edgar as an international writer and director. It was a wonderful possibility, but…according to her—a pregnancy did not fit in."
Aunt Sidney winced. "Avery stayed in Winnipeg for the remainder of her pregnancy, promising Edgar she would join him overseas soon where he had begun writing and preparing for his international debut. Avery never once mentioned she was expecting a baby to him. Time passed and the baby was born. She was such a darling little baby! She was the spitting image of her mother. But, Avery, she immediately handed the baby over to her sister and Phillip, who were not likely to ever become parents of their own children." Aunt Sidney looked at her shyly. "They… raised her as their own." She said the last words tenderly.
Rosemary sat there, the weight of the words settling into her core. Immediately, she flew from the chair to the bay window where she stared out at the expanse as if it would offer her comfort. After several moments of silence, she braved the words, "So… I'm adopted."
Sidney observed her from across the room, sitting straight and poised in her chair, her hands softly resting in her lap.
"Oh, I hope I have not harmed you in telling you. It's just that, well, you've sensed it all your life, haven't you, darling?"
Rosemary walked up to her aunt who promptly pulled her into her arms. "Please forgive me. Perhaps I've overstepped my bounds. I—"
Rosemary pushed back from her so she could see her face fully. "On the contrary, you loved me enough to tell me. I'll forever be grateful to you." Big tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
Aunt Sidney's gentle hand came to her cheek and smoothed the tears away.
"I love you dearly, my sweet Rose."
Rosemary smiled at the nickname that Aunt Sidney had used for her all of her life.
"I love you too, Aunt Sidney." She dried her face with the palm of her hand. "I just never knew… but it makes sense… it's just—" she blew out a frustrated breath. "I think I am going to take a walk. To think things over."
"Okay, I'm sure you have questions. I'll be here if you need me." Aunt Sidney said, obviously noting her need to process this alone. "I do have one thing to give you… perhaps it will help you on your journey."
She walked to the corner desk and opened a drawer. After shuffling around for a moment or so, she returned with a photo. Rosemary accepted it from her and gasped. The picture was of herself, at age nine attending her first Broadway. In the photo she was posed with the famous actress… what was her name? Suddenly the pieces crashed into place.
"Wait— is this Avery? My birth mother?" She rubbed a fingertip over the face of the famous actress she had met on her first trip to Broadway. Her name had been Avery… Avery Strakosch— it all made sense now.
Aunt Sidney nodded. "Yes, dear, it is Avery Harriet Strakosch — your mother."
Rosemary looked back at the photo, the two of them both smiling big, wide smiles that reached their eyes. Their blonde hair and light blue eyes. The resemblance really was quite uncanny.
She tucked the photo into the pocket of her skirt. "I'll go for my walk now."
She'd trekked around the bay for hours that afternoon, the spring blossoms and blooms evident everywhere, but she hadn't noticed them, as she was preoccupied with numerous thoughts and memories flickering through her head. She was nine years old when she had met Avery but she hadn't known their relation at the time. It was a most lovely play, and the actress was very sweet. Mother had acted very reserved and quite stiff that day, now that she thought of it. It was the only time she ever recalled seeing Avery. Was that because of Mother? Or because of Avery? Or was it because of her? Was something so wrong with her that neither one of her mothers, birth or adopted, wanted her?
This new turn of events— it was all making sense, why Mother had never fully opened her heart to her. Every time she saw Rosemary, it was a reminder of what she lost, of what she didn't have. Rosemary knew Father loved Mother with all his heart, but she was never sure of her undying love towards him. She'd always seemed lost and inattentive. Now she knew why. She was pining for the love that was stolen from her by her own sister, and left to raise the daughter of her sister and her own lover. No wonder she had heartbreak. But still, why had she allowed that heartbreak to seep into Rosemary's very own soul? It seemed very selfish.
Rosemary felt the extreme bitterness and hate sink into her heart and take root the more she thought of the whole situation. How could Avery given her away in hopes of a career internationally on Broadway? Did her birth father ever know of her? Where were they now? Why did they not care for her to check in with her? The questions had originally brought relief, but now started to harden the edges of her battered heart.