Chapter 3

The church was filled with the soft hum of conversation as people filtered out into the late morning sun. Rose, sitting beside Sarah, felt a strange comfort in the familiar rituals of the Sunday service. Mark was holding Evelyn's hand, the little girl fidgeting after sitting still for so long. They hadn't been in town much, so the church was one of the few times Rose saw the locals gather in one place.

As the service ended and the crowd slowly dispersed, two elderly women made their way toward Sarah, their gazes lingering on Rose. They were the kind of women who had lived in this town for decades, always at the heart of every piece of gossip.

"Sarah, dear!" Mrs. Porter greeted warmly, though her gaze quickly flicked toward Rose. "How are you holding up, dear girl? Just two more months now, isn't it?"

Sarah smiled, her hand instinctively moving to her rounded belly. "Yes, not too long now," she replied, though her tone was softer, less enthusiastic than usual. She could sense where this conversation was heading.

Mrs. Wilkins, a wiry woman with a sharp chin, gave Rose a brief smile before turning back to Sarah. "And who is this young lady with you today? We've seen her around, but we haven't had the pleasure of meeting her properly."

Sarah hesitated for a brief moment, then smiled, gesturing toward Rose. "This is Rose Williams. She's been staying with us for a little while now, helping around the farm."

Both women smiled politely, though their eyes lingered on Rose a little too long. Rose could feel their scrutiny, even as she tried to smile back.

"A pleasure to meet you, dear," Mrs. Wilkins said with a tight smile, though her eyes held a hint of suspicion. "We're always curious when we see new faces in town."

"The more, the merrier, I always say," Mrs. Porter added, though her tone was less welcoming than her words suggested.

They exchanged pleasantries for a moment, with the older women steering the conversation toward Sarah's pregnancy. They asked about the baby, whether Sarah had everything prepared, and offered their unsolicited advice, as they always did. Rose stood quietly beside Sarah, her presence acknowledged but not truly engaged.

After a few minutes, Evelyn, growing bored with the grown-up talk, tugged on Rose's hand. "Rose, will you play with me? Please?" she begged, her big eyes pleading.

Rose smiled, grateful for the excuse to escape. "Of course, sweetheart," she said, letting Evelyn pull her away toward the nearby patch of grass where other children were playing.

As Rose left, the two elderly women watched her go, their eyes narrowing slightly. Once she was out of earshot, Mrs. Porter turned to Sarah with a concerned expression.

"She seems… nice enough," Mrs. Wilkins started, but her tone suggested she thought otherwise. "But tell us, Sarah, where does she come from?"

Sarah shifted uncomfortably, her hand absentmindedly brushing over her belly. "To be honest," she began, "I don't know much about her past. She just needed a place to stay, and with the baby coming, I thought she could be of some help."

Mrs. Porter and Mrs. Wilkins exchanged knowing glances. Mrs. Porter leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if she were about to share a great secret. "You've always been so kind-hearted, Sarah, just like your mother. But you must be careful. You don't know where she's been or what she's running from. There are all sorts of people who pass through small towns like ours. Strangers."

"And with a little one on the way, you can't be too cautious," Mrs. Wilkins added, her voice dripping with concern. "She could be hiding something. You know how these things go. It's always the quiet ones."

Sarah frowned, not liking the implication, though part of her understood their concern. She didn't know much about Rose's past, but in the time Rose had been with them, she had never given Sarah any reason to doubt her character.

"I appreciate your concern," Sarah said carefully, trying to balance her natural protectiveness of Rose with the lingering questions she couldn't answer. "But Rose has been nothing but helpful since she's been with us. She's a kind soul."

Mrs. Wilkins nodded, but there was a glint in her eyes. "Just be careful, dear. The Lord only knows what brings people to a place like this. Not everyone comes with pure intentions."

Before Sarah could respond, Mrs. Porter changed the subject abruptly, her voice loud and deliberate. "Did you hear about Mrs. Jones? She passed away this week."

Mrs. Wilkins nodded gravely. "Yes, I did. God rest her soul. She was so ill these past few months."

Sarah, grateful for the change in topic, shook her head softly. "She was suffering so much. I hope she's at peace now."

The two older women sighed, shaking their heads. But it was Mrs. Wilkins who added, her tone now softer, "Her poor daughter, Maureen. I think it was Mrs. Jones's last straw."

Mrs. Porter sighed deeply. "Maureen was such a bright young thing. So full of life. Such a shame. Now, both mother and daughter are gone." She then continued, "Anyway," "I'm sure you'll be careful with that young lady. Best not to invite trouble, especially with the baby on the way."

Sarah forced a smile and nodded. "Of course."

In the meantime, Rose had noticed. The way their eyes lingered on her, their whispers not entirely hidden, brought a familiar sinking feeling in her chest. It was the same here, in this small town. The stares, the judgment, the whispers—none of it was new. Her thoughts drifted back to Maureen, the only person who had ever seemed to understand the invisible wall that separated people like them from the rest of the world. She could almost hear Maureen's voice, clear and sharp in her mind, from that day on the Titanic when they had walked on the decks, under the scrutinizing eyes of the first-class women.

"My god," Maureen had said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "you rich people have so little to do you can only stare and gossip about everything that looks slightly different than you. Haven't they ever seen a woman who doesn't wear a silk dress? I feel like a damn monkey in a zoo."

The women then said their goodbyes, and as Sarah and Mark gathered Evelyn and Rose, heading back to the farm.

As the weeks passed, Rose settled into a quiet routine on the farm. The days began to blend together, each one marked by chores, meals, and the slow, steady rhythm of farm life. The weather was growing warmer, and the sun lingered longer in the evenings, casting golden light over the fields. Yet, despite the tranquility, a quiet loneliness began to settle deep within her.

Sarah's pregnancy had become more difficult. What began as tiredness had now confined her to bed for most of the day. Mark, though always attentive, spent long hours out on the land, working tirelessly to keep the farm running smoothly. With Sarah resting and Mark out in the fields, it often felt like Rose's only company was little Evelyn.

Evelyn, as lively and talkative as ever, had become Rose's shadow. Every morning, the little girl would follow her around the house and yard, asking questions, chattering about her games, or showing Rose her drawings. Rose adored Evelyn, her innocence and joy a bright spot in her otherwise quiet days. But even Evelyn's energy couldn't fill the void that was growing in Rose's heart.

As Rose walked through the house one warm afternoon, the sound of Evelyn's laughter echoed behind her. They had just finished tending to the chickens, and Evelyn had insisted on collecting the eggs herself. Now, she was spinning in circles on the front porch, her little arms stretched wide as she twirled in the sun. Rose smiled as she watched her, but a part of her felt distant, like she was watching from the outside. The farm had become familiar, and in many ways, it felt like a sanctuary. Yet, something was missing. She hadn't realized how much she craved real connection, conversation, and companionship—things beyond the chores and the small talk of the day.

She missed Sarah's presence. Before her pregnancy had worsened, Sarah had been her confidante, her guide in navigating farm life. They'd spent countless hours together, and though they didn't talk much about the past, Rose had felt understood in a way she hadn't for a long time. But now, Sarah was bedridden, her strength fading as the baby grew. Rose visited her often, bringing her meals or just sitting with her in silence, but it wasn't the same.

One evening, after Mark had come in from the fields and was busy cleaning his boots by the door, Rose sat by the window, staring out at the fading light. She could hear Evelyn's soft breathing as she dozed off in her lap, her tiny body curled up after a long day of play. Mark's footsteps echoed faintly as he passed through the room, but he didn't linger. He had his own worries, and while he was always kind, Rose couldn't help but feel like an outsider at times.

She stroked Evelyn's hair absentmindedly, lost in her thoughts. There was something about the farm that was peaceful, almost healing, but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel the isolation creeping in. There were no grand conversations, no one who truly knew her story or understood the depth of her fears.

As the sky darkened and the stars began to peek out, Rose gently shifted Evelyn off her lap and tucked her into bed. She stood in the quiet of the house for a moment, listening to the faint sounds of the farm at night—the rustling of leaves, the distant call of a night bird, the creak of wood settling in the cool evening air.

One afternoon, Rose found herself in town with Mark, fetching supplies for the farm. The streets were busy, as usual, with people bustling about, and the scent of fresh bread and dried herbs wafting from the small shops they passed. Mark led the way, greeting familiar faces as they moved through the marketplace.

As they approached the general store, a young woman stepped forward with a bright smile.

"Mr. Davison, how glad I am to see you," she said, her voice light and cheerful.

"Miss Parker, good afternoon," Mark responded, tipping his hat politely.

The woman was petite, with golden hair neatly pinned back and a vibrant floral dress. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and warmth.

"How is your wife's pregnancy going? I didn't see her at church yesterday," Miss Parker asked, concern mingling with her usual pleasant tone.

Mark smiled softly, though there was a hint of weariness in his eyes. "Sarah's doing well, though it's been a little harder on her these past few weeks. We're hoping she'll be back to her usual self soon enough."

"Please send her my regards," Miss Parker said, her voice genuine. "I'll be praying for her."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Mark glanced over his shoulder, signaling for Rose to come forward. Rose had been lingering nearby, watching the interaction quietly, unsure if she should interrupt. At his gesture, she approached with a hesitant smile.

"Miss Williams," Mark began, placing a hand on her shoulder, "this is Miss Bethany Parker. Betty, this is Rose Williams. She's been helping us out on the farm."

Betty's eyes brightened as she extended her hand warmly. "Please, call me Betty. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Williams. I've been seeing you around town every now and then, but we haven't had the chance to speak."

Rose accepted her handshake, feeling a little shy under the young woman's friendly gaze. "It's nice to meet you, Betty."

Betty's smile grew even wider, and her energy seemed to radiate with enthusiasm. "Oh, we must spend some time together! It must be so lonely out on the farm, especially with Sarah in bed. And I'm sure you'd love to see more of the town."

Rose blinked in surprise, not expecting such an immediate invitation. She'd hardly had the chance to get to know many people in town, often keeping to herself or staying by Mark's side when they ran errands. The thought of spending time with someone her own age intrigued her but also made her nervous.

"That's very kind of you," Rose said, hesitating for a moment. "I've just been helping out on the farm mostly…"

"Nonsense!" Betty interrupted with a wave of her hand. "Everyone needs a break from farm work now and then. How about tea at my house tomorrow afternoon? My mother loves to entertain, and I'd love the company. We can chat and get to know each other better."

Rose glanced at Mark, who gave her an encouraging nod. "It sounds like a lovely idea," he said, clearly in favor of the arrangement.

"Alright," Rose finally agreed, offering Betty a small smile. "I'd love to come for tea."

"Wonderful!" Betty beamed, clapping her hands together. "It's settled then. Tomorrow at three. I'll have everything ready. You won't regret it, I promise."

With that, Betty excused herself, her light steps carrying her down the street as she waved goodbye to both of them. Rose watched her go, still a little taken aback by how quickly everything had happened. And so the fast pace continued.

"You'll be fine, Rose," Sarah said with a smile as she sat on the edge of the bed, her round belly making it harder for her to move as freely as before. "Betty is a very sweet girl, and it'll be good for you to make some friends around here. You've been spending too much time cooped up on the farm."

Rose nodded, trying to mask her anxiety with a small smile. "It's just been a while since I've been in a social setting."

"You're more than capable," Sarah reassured her, her tone warm. "You've got grace, Rose. Just be yourself."

With Sarah's words in mind, Rose set out toward Betty's house in the afternoon. The walk wasn't long, and soon she found herself standing before a charming little home with a white picket fence. The sound of birds chirping filled the air, and the scent of freshly bloomed flowers reached her as she made her way up the path.

Before she could knock, the door swung open, and Betty stood there, all smiles and excitement. "Rose! You made it!" she said, pulling her inside without hesitation.

Rose smiled shyly, stepping into the cozy home. The smell of fresh-baked scones filled the air, and the sitting room was adorned with lace doilies and floral patterns. It was a warm, welcoming place, much like its owner.

"Come, let's sit in the parlor," Betty said, leading Rose to a small table already set with tea, scones, and small cakes. "Mother's upstairs resting, but she's thrilled you're here and will be down in a moment. She loves having company, but I didn't want to overwhelm you on your first visit."

Rose smiled gratefully as she took a seat, feeling slightly more at ease. The room was bathed in afternoon sunlight, and the gentle clinking of teacups added a soothing rhythm to their conversation. Betty's energy was contagious, and soon, the two women were chatting about the town, the people, and the little joys of daily life.

"I've been seeing you at church, of course," Betty said, pouring tea into Rose's cup, "but I hadn't had the chance to properly introduce myself. I was so curious about you. You've only been in town for a short while, haven't you?"

"Yes," Rose replied, nodding. "I came to help Mark and Sarah with the farm. Sarah's pregnancy has been difficult."

Betty's eyes softened with understanding. "Sarah's such a wonderful woman. She's been through a lot with this pregnancy, but I'm sure you've been a great help. It's kind of you to be there for them."

Rose sipped her tea, grateful for Betty's kindness. "They've been kind to me, too. I don't think I could've found a better place to be."

Betty smiled, leaning forward slightly. "Well, it's nice to know you're feeling at home here. Though I must admit, our little town can be a bit… quiet. Sometimes it feels as if I am the only one hanging around."

"What's keeping you here?" Rose asked curiously.

Betty smiled, her expression warming again. "My students," she said with a touch of pride. "I'm a teacher at the local school, and those kids… well, they've become a part of me. I can't imagine leaving them. Every time I think about what it would be like to go somewhere else, I remember their faces and their little hands reaching out for mine when they need help. It's hard to walk away from that."

Rose looked at Betty, seeing the passion in her eyes as she spoke about the children. "That sounds like a beautiful reason to stay," she said softly.

"It is," Betty agreed, though there was still a lingering wistfulness in her tone. She hesitated before continuing, as if unsure whether she should reveal more. "There was a time, though, when I nearly did leave."

Rose's curiosity piqued. "Why didn't you?"

Betty sighed, her gaze drifting out the window as if lost in memories. "There was a man from town, actually—who I fancied quite a bit. Although, I never got the nerve to tell him. He was always so restless, always talking about traveling the world. He left a few years ago to go see what was out there, and for a while, I wanted nothing more than to follow him."

"Why didn't you?"

A nervous laugh escaped Betty's lips. "How desperate he would believe me to be. But sometimes I do wonder what could have happened where I to be so brave to speak my feelings towards him. And in my head he would have said yes and we would get married and start a family somewhere in Italy."

"You never know," Rose said, her voice gentle. "Maybe one day he'll come back."

Betty smiled wistfully and shook her head. "Maybe. But I don't think he will. He was always meant for more than this town could offer. And that's okay. We all have our paths, don't we?"