May 23
The Model T bounded over the country road at an alarmingly rate. Sure, Rosemary was pushing the petal to the metal a bit much, but in her defense—she did have to hurry if she wanted to get home, obtain the special handcrafted doilies, and get back to the church before Elizabeth arrived. Hopefully by now, Florence and Molly would have arrived at the church and began setting up for the bridal shower.
"Oh!" She called out as the Model T hit a particularly large divot in the road, jolting the car something fierce. A shockwave of pain started in her belly and traveled up her spine. She took a deep breath, but still the tight pulling sensation gripped her belly. She gripped onto the steering wheel, her fingernails nearly scraping the finish off. Best she could, considering the pain, she kept the car in the center of the road. Was it the jostling back and forth that was causing this strange sensation? Or, was it was due to Harriet's egg, sausage, potato casserole she'd eaten this morning? She'd urged Harriet to ease up on the spices, but even then the meal had still disagreed with her. If this was indigestion, this was the worst case she had yet.
She breathed in a chaotic rhythm until the tightening went away. Relief coursed over her as she reached for Lee's handkerchief he kept on the dash. Saints alive, was it normal for a woman to sweat up a storm? She swiped the cloth across her forehead once, then twice. Perhaps it was just due to the pressure to host the perfect bridal shower for their bride to be. Or perhaps her belly was going to relieve itself of its contents before too long. She truly hoped it was not the latter.
She steered the Model T into the curve that led to their drive, their new house standing strong and stark against the Rocky Mountains in the background. She'd just rush in, grab the doilies and run on out in record time. At this rate, she'd be sure to arrive back at the church before the party started.
She pulled the car up to the front of the house and began to pull her driving gloves off finger by finger. As she was in the habit of doing whenever she parked, she tapped the glass of the gas gage. The needle slid from its perpetual false reading of "full" to the empty line.
"No, no, no, no." She pounded the center of the steering wheel. Of all the rotten timing! Of course this would happen here and now when she was in a drastic hurry and her belly was feeling more tumultuous by the moment. She pushed the car door open and, after much pomp and circumstance— hoisted herself up and out and waddled to the backend of the Model T. How in the world would her pregnant frame be able to get the extra gas can out of the back? She peered at the spot the extra gas can usually occupied. It wasn't there! Her heart started to beat in a frantic motion. How on earth would she get back into town now?
For the life of her Rosemary wanted to kick the tarnation out of the nearby tire of the Model T but instead she gripped at the heaviness in her midsection and hiked up the porch stairs. She'd get the doilies first. Then she'd figure out what to do.
She slid the key into the lock, opened the door and walked into the parlor of the house. The quiet tick tock of the grandfather clock met her ear. It was extremely quiet, eerily so. A shiver went up her spine. An inner alarm of sorts.
"Oh stop being a ninny, Rosemary." She said to herself as she walked over to the sewing machine. "It's your and Lee's home. Nothing's out of the norm here."
She bent to look for her sewing basket near the side of the sewing machine where they had last seen the doilies. "Ah ha! You were there all along." She scooped the doilies up off the sewing machine and began to walk back to the front door. At least the doilies were in the correct spot and she wouldn't have to waste any time looking around for them. Now she just would need to pull the car over to the barn. Lee always kept an extra can of gas in there.
Just as she was pulling the front door part way shut, a most peculiar sight caught her eye: her dining table— covered with a horrendous mess!
She gasped and opened the door fully before stomping over to the table. "What is this?" She said to the empty room. "Roast turkey? Pickles? My inappropriate mustard?" Her voice grew angrier with each item she saw sprawled out on the table, unattended.
"Who did this? Leland Coulter, if this was you… oh, you are going to get a stern talking to tonight, Mister." She looked at the expensive cheese wheel with a small knife stuck into it. "Oh the waste!" She threw her hands up in frustration, the doilies still in her grip.
"Oh don't tell me…my cake?!" She lifted the towel that was half way covering the delicious lemon cake she had prepared for dessert tonight. A big portion had been unceremoniously scooped out of it, leaving a gaping hole in the middle. "Oh, this has gone too far now." She slammed the doilies down on the table and started to gather the items into a big heap on the center of the table. Then, remembering she had time constraints, not to mention her nice party dress on, she simply settled for rewrapping the turkey and retrieving an expensive wheel of cheese. At least these two things would be salvageable.
Her hands shook as she took the turkey in one hand and the wheel of cheese in another and walked to the kitchen. Something just didn't feel right. Perhaps it was a soon-to- be mother's intuition, but something was not adding up about this whole situation. Her Leland… while a man, and a hungry man at that, was practically incapable of leaving such a mess. It just went against every bone in his body.
The odd tightening grew in her belly again. She reached for the edge of the counter for something solid to hold onto and lost her grip on the package of turkey that fell to the ground. If she could just hold on… perhaps the pain would subside. She did another round of chaotic breathing until the sensation dulled. Thankfully, her indigestion was not nearly as bad as it had been in the car.
Movement from the corner of her eye caused her to lookout the kitchen window to the back of the property, the barn looming large in the background. What was that? Something red was moving out by the barn. She watched as the items grew bigger. Why, it looked like two men— each in a red serge outfit. Was one of them Jack? It was too far to see. But the one… no, he was too large. And the other, too rotund. Prickles of apprehension traced down her arms. Who were the men and what did they want? Lee surely didn't know of this or he would have mentioned a visit. Wait… where they the ones who had unceremoniously dug through her icebox and left all the contents out to rot? Possibly. And if so, they were not to be trusted. Who dared dig through someone's ice box unless if they were… outright thieves?
She staggered back from the small kitchen window. They were coming. Quick, she had to hurry. She had to go to Lee. Get to safety.
Her knees buckled.
Her car key- where was it? Oh, here. Here it was. Go to the car. Drive away. Wait— drive? There was no gas.
Her knees went weak.
She was stuck. No where to go. But wait—there. The parlor closet. She could hide. No one would find her.
She flung herself into the closet and pulled the door shut just as she heard boot steps at the back door.