Saturday April 29, 1933

7 days until the wedding

Nobody at the Marshall house answered my third call.

I'd expected at least some kind of apology from Vera for being a no-show at my party, so it worried me that neither she nor Frederick had rung me today to make amends. It made me even more anxious when there wasn't an answer to any of my phone calls.

Vera was a true friend. She wouldn't have skipped the soirée unless she absolutely had to. I surmised that they must have their hands full with Henry, which meant that his fever likely hadn't broken.

"Do you think it's alright to run over?" I asked Mother, bouncing impatiently by the telephone. The sun was still up, but thick storm clouds had been accumulating all day.

"Darling, your wedding is a week from today. You'll catch a cold in this weather." She scrubbed a dish and tsked.

"That's just a superstition, Mother," I rolled my eyes. "Weather can't make you sick."

"I wouldn't risk it, all the same. It shouldn't be so cold this time of year."

"It'll pass by next weekend," Daddy chimed in from behind his newspaper.

"What do you think, Daddy? I can go, right?"

"See if William can drive you," he suggested.

"No dice. He's taking the boys out for Royce's bachelor party."

"Here's an idea," he said, flipping the page. "You go do whatever you want, sweetie, and if it starts snowing too bad, you call William from Vera's phone and have him pick you up."

"Daddy, you're hittin' it on all eight," I said. I snagged my coat from the hanger by the front door and took off like a rocket.

Well, almost. Mother caught me by the collar and held up a different scrap of fabric. "Wear this one."

It was hardly a scrap of fabric. It was one of Royce's gifts. I was just being impatient.

I shucked out of the disregarded coat and pulled my sleeves through the new one, letting the first fall to the floor. The help could pick it up later. Mother started to fasten the buttons from the bottom, and I started from the top.

"One more week," she trilled. "Oh, I could cry."

"It can't come fast enough," I agreed, trying to hurry up my buttoning. It seemed that the harder I tried, the less successful I was.

"Well, we've got plenty to do in the meantime. You remember we have your final dress fitting on Monday at nine o'clock," she reminded.

"Monday at nine," I repeated, looking towards the door. A button slipped. "Damn."

"Don't swear," she said and shook her head. "Why on God's green Earth are you rushing to get out into that tundra?"

"It isn't even snowing yet!"

"Well, at least you have your father's blessing."

Daddy harrumphed. "Just steer clear of the bums."

"Dandy." I got the final button. "I'll come back as soon as it starts snowing, how about that?"

It was a pacifying lie, of course. Once I was out and with the baby – and Vera, and Frederick – I knew I'd be enjoying myself too much to leave. I'd make it home after dark, no matter what time the snow started to fall.

"Alright, Rose," she finished up, patted my cheek, and spun me around towards the door. "You asked for it."

And I left the house.

I was grateful for the coat. The wind had started to pick up, a sure sign that precipitation was incoming. I crossed my arms and tucked my gloved hands into my sides to keep warm as I scurried to the Marshall house.

I shivered as I walked up to the door, knocking rapidly. After a few moments… no answer.

I began to fret. Were they not home?

"Vera?" I pounded on the door with my first, forcefully this time. "Fred?"

Did they need to attend the hospital?

A gust of wind nearly blew me off my feet. I gritted my teeth and tried the door handle. Locked, of course, but that wasn't going to stop me.

Frustrated, I shot air through my nostrils, feeling like a bull. If only I could ram down the door like one.

I began to knock with the side of my fist and almost fell through the door as it swung open. My heart sank when I saw who had granted me entry.

Dr. Cullen, again. So Henry's illness had not been resolved.

A twinge of unease coursed through me, but I didn't let it show. "Dr. Cullen." I walked straight past him. He let me, then closed and locked the door.

As I walked into the nursery, a wave of relief crashed over me. Vera was cross-legged on the floor, Henry on a blanket before her. He was on his back, trying his hardest to grab the crescent moon on the mobile above. It was just out of reach. He wasn't crying, just hiccupping slightly.

He seemed… normal. Perfect. Perfectly normal.

I sank to my knees and joined his mother on the floor. "So all my worry was a trip for biscuits after all."

She looked at me, incredulous. "Worry?"

I parried her gaze. "Yes, Vera. You haven't picked up the phone all day."

She closed her eyes. "Ahh. Sorry."

I waited a few beats, but she appeared to be finished. "...Is there anything else you'd like to apologize for?"

"Come again, doll?"

"Vera," I furrowed my brow, actually getting so upset that I risked wrinkling. "You missed my party."

This time, she sighed and met my eyes, relenting. "Slept right through it."

I tore my gaze away and focused on Henry so as not to descend into hysterics. The sight of his pink, seemingly healthy complexion tethered me.

"You could've called, at least."

"Rosalie, I've been sleeping."

"And I've nearly worried myself to death regarding the health of my best friend and her child."

"Well, we're fine, clearly," she said, moving to her side on the floor. "And I really am sorry, Rose. You know how much I wanted to come to your fancy-shmancy-shindig. It's all we've talked about for weeks."

"But Henry wasn't sick last night?" I clarified.

"His fever broke the day after your last visit," she told me. "We've all been dead to the world since. You're right, I should've told you we wouldn't make it, either way. I didn't wanna ring you day-of… we both know you had bigger fish to fry."

I drew circles on the rug with my index finger silently.

"Blame him," Vera tried, gesturing lazily toward her infant son.

It cracked me.

"You know I can't be cross with him."

"Then you're shit outta luck, kitten."

"That's unfair," I said, a tiny smile sneaking out. She'd found my achilles heel.

"That's life," she sighed, rolling to her back.

Even though I was no longer upset, I held my tongue. I disagreed.

That's life? For her, maybe. My life was nothing like that.

In that moment, though I genuinely tried to, I couldn't imagine a world in which I missed a party to sleep. Barring extreme malady or circumstance, of course. And though Henry's fever was an acceptable excuse not to attend, she'd just admitted it had ceased well before the event.

"Regardless. I would've at least called. Or asked someone to."

"I am sorry, Rose. I won't sleep through your wedding," she promised.

I believed her. It would be her loss, after all.

We sat in serene silence for several minutes, the only vocalizations coming from Henry. I realized that in my fluster, I hadn't even taken my coat off. It was of no matter – the house was cold enough from the chill outdoors.

Plus, there were too many buttons.

"So the fever's gone," I started, "but the doctor is still here…?"

Vera looked at me with a very specific glint in her eye. I'd seen it many times before, but only when her husband was the topic of discussion.

So when she seemed to deploy it after I mentioned Dr. Cullen, I was, frankly, alarmed.

"Vera!"

She grinned ear to ear. "He sure is easy on the eyes, isn't he?"

Ugh.

Acknowledging the glory of the doctor's looks – and, in turn, those of his wife and brother-in-law – was salt in the wound of the evening. My irritation resurfaced.

And was it really necessary that she rubbed her fetishes in my face? She already knew how much I wanted to understand that glint, that look.

It was especially brave of her, I thought, to do so after missing my engagement party.

To sleep.

I only realized I was grinding my teeth when my temples started to pulse. I didn't even know how to answer her.

Seven days.

My life was so close.

Because forgiveness is divine, I answered by reiterating the question that had led to her offensive train of thought. "What's he doing here if Henry's well?"

She propped her head up on her hand. "He's in the kitchen with Fred. The medicine Dr. Cullen prescribed for Henry last week is fairly new, apparently, so he asked if he could study the baby, since he responded so well to the treatment."

"And you let him?" I said, too sharply. I didn't like the idea of him running experiments on Henry. I decided then that I would find a private physician for my family.

"Yes, Rose," Vera rolled her eyes, more than exasperated. It was apparent that she was losing patience with me and my standards. "He saved Henry's life, for all we know. Nothing was working until he administered whatever cure he did. And I thank God for that."

"I don't think that's wise."

"Well, I don't appreciate the unsolicited input."

I flinched, stung by her words. I didn't know what to say.

We held eye contact for a few tense seconds before the baby cooed and our attention was diverted.

Henry kicked his little legs over to the side, using the momentum to roll himself over onto his stomach. Vera and I watched in amazement as he then used all the strength in his wobbly little arms to push himself up until he was sitting, all on his own.

When we made eye contact again, every trace of malice had vanished into thin air.

"Did he just–"

"Has he ever–"

We cut each other off, then burst into elated laughter.

"Freddie!" Vera called, wiping her eyes. He appeared in the nursery doorway moments later, the doctor in tow.

The instant Frederick laid eyes on his son, he was beaming. "By himself?"

"By himself," Vera confirmed, smiling just as wide. Henry, seeming to pick up on the giddiness of his parents, exclaimed some similar sentiment in baby-talk and patted the ground with his hands. They all laughed together, their joy palpable.

In that moment, the world was no bigger than the three of them – Vera, Frederick, and their Henry, happy and healthy as could be.

I'd never felt excluded so definitively.

Not that they were doing it on purpose. I just didn't belong in their bliss bubble on the nursery floor in their shabby house. I belonged in a nursery quadruple this size, in a velvet chair, bouncing a newborn on my knee while my fair-haired firstborn scooted across the floor to his father.

Although, I realized, I had never seen Royce express an emotion quite like the one on Frederick's face. I tried to picture it – the wonder, the careful glee, the… affection – and found myself further alienated.

I hadn't known Royce for very long at all. Perhaps that was why. Having known each other for just under six months, we simply lacked the intimacy that came with time. I was sure it wouldn't be long before he and I found our own version of the domestic euphoria I was witnessing now.

And then I realized that Dr. Cullen was watching me watch them, and I wanted to crawl out of my skin. The room had suddenly become much too small, and the pathetic little house was crowded enough to begin with.

"It's late, and I'm sure you must be getting sleepy," I said, getting to my feet. I hadn't meant for the words to come out as icily as they had, but there was no taking them back.

Frederick blinked at me like he just realized I was there. "Oh, Rosalie – I hate that we missed your party, doll, I'm sure it was a real clam bake –"

"Save your tears," I muttered, smoothing out my skirt. I was glad that I'd never taken my coat off; I couldn't get out of there fast enough. "I'm glad Henry's feeling better."

"Can I escort you home?" he offered. His chivalry was inexplicably chafing.

"I'll survive."

"Well, let me at least walk you to the door," he said, stepping aside to make way as I left the room.

"Me too," Vera called. I heard her gather Henry up into her arms and stumble to her feet.

Great. Their happiness would haunt me all the way to the street, then.

Mercifully, Dr. Cullen ghosted to the kitchen.

I hadn't brought anything over, but felt like I needed to do something with my hands, so I unpinned and re-fastened my hat as I walked to the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Frederick sneak a quiet, tender kiss onto Vera's temple.

"Well, call me if you need some help," I offered, feeling pointless. "You know, in case you need someone to watch the baby while you get some rest."

"That would be great, Rose, thanks," Vera smiled. Fred wrapped his arm around her waist, and she melted into him. Henry, situated comfortably on her hip, looked up at his father with round, adoring eyes.

"I will be busy with wedding planning, of course, you know, but – in case I'm not, I mean – well…"

I hadn't ever felt more insecure. My words were tumbling out muddily. "Well, you know where to find me."

"I'll call you tomorrow," she promised.

But it felt like she was only saying it to pacify me. Like she, with her tiny house and her unruly garden and her impure thoughts about the town doctor and her average looks and her working-class husband and her recently sick infant and her leisurely sleep schedule had the nerve to feel sorry for me.

I nodded, smiled without my teeth, then opened the door and stepped out into the night. The temperature had dropped considerably, but the snow hadn't started. I'd make it home before the first flurry.

"Goodbye, then," I waved over my shoulder, unable to bear the sight of them and their happiness any longer.

"Say 'bye, Rosalie!'" Vera instructed her son like she was singing a nursery rhyme.

I sighed. She wasn't playing fair at all.

I turned all the way around so that I was walking backwards, catching the sight of Fred waving Henry's chubby hand for him. Henry uttered some delicious nonsense as he was marionetted, and his dimples creased the roundness of his pink, perfect, healthy cheeks with his cherubic smile. My heart clenched.

Seven days.

"Get home safe!"

"You got it," I replied, then spun on my heel and fled.