Chapter 16
Rose stood near the front door, adjusting the ribbon on her hat with deliberate care, her movements betraying the nervous energy coursing through her. Jack leaned casually against the wall beside her, arms crossed, his gaze steady and concerned.
"Are you sure I shouldn't go?" he asked for the third time, his tone laced with worry.
Rose glanced at him briefly, then back at her reflection in the small mirror by the door. "No, Jack. This is something I need to do myself." Her voice was calm but firm, leaving little room for argument.
Jack uncrossed his arms, stepping closer. "At least let me come with you. Not to talk—just to be there, in case—"
Rose turned to him then, cutting him off with a soft shake of her head. "That's sweet of you, but no. I think it's better if you don't." She reached out and lightly rested her hand on his chest. "This is between Betty and me. I knew how she felt about you, and I should have been more considerate. It's my mistake, Jack, not yours."
He studied her face for a moment, his blue eyes searching hers. "You're too hard on yourself, Rose," he said gently. "But if you think this is what you need to do, I trust you."
She smiled faintly, grateful for his support, and leaned up to place a quick kiss on his lips. "I'll be back before dinner," she said softly as she pulled away.
Jack caught her hand as she turned toward the door, giving it a small squeeze. "Good luck," he murmured, his voice low and earnest.
Rose nodded, her expression steady though her heart felt anything but. She straightened her shoulders, pushed open the door, and stepped outside, the warm summer air brushing against her face as she began the walk to Betty's house.
Behind her, Jack lingered at the doorway, watching her go with a mixture of pride and unease. He hated the thought of her facing this alone.
Rose hesitated on Betty's porch, her heart pounding in her chest as she raised her hand to knock. The weight of what she had to do made her stomach churn. She had replayed the scene by the lake countless times in her mind: the look on Betty's face when she stumbled upon them, her sharp gasp, the way she turned and fled without a word. Rose knew she had to face her, no matter how painful it would be.
The door creaked open, and Betty stood there, her expression unreadable. She crossed her arms, leaning against the frame. "What do you want?" she asked flatly.
"I came to apologize," Rose began, her voice trembling. "I—I didn't mean for you to find out like that. I should've told you sooner."
Betty stepped back, letting her inside without a word. Rose followed her into the sitting room, the air thick with tension. Betty gestured to a chair, but she remained standing, pacing slowly in front of the fireplace.
"I was wrong to keep it from you," Rose continued. "I never wanted to hurt you."
Betty stopped pacing, turning to face her. At first, her voice was calm, almost eerily so. "You didn't want to hurt me? Really? You could've fooled me."
Rose tried to explain, her words tumbling over each other. "I swear, Betty, it wasn't planned. I never wanted to come between you and Jack—"
Betty's calm facade shattered. She let out a sharp, bitter laugh, her eyes blazing. "Come between us? Don't flatter yourself! There wasn't an 'us,' Rose, because you made sure of that, didn't you?"
"That's not true!" Rose protested. "It just… it just happened—"
"Oh, spare me the excuses!" Betty's voice rose to a near-scream. "You've been lying to me from the start! Pretending to hate him, pretending to be my friend while you were sneaking around with him!"
"It wasn't like that!" Rose pleaded, tears brimming in her eyes. "Betty, please, you have to believe me."
Betty took a step closer, her hands trembling as she pointed at Rose. Her voice broke, but it was filled with venom. "I trusted you! I told you how much I liked him, how I'd liked him for years! And what do you do? You go behind my back and seduce him yourself!"
Rose shook her head desperately. "No, I didn't seduce him! Betty, I—"
"Don't lie to me!" Betty's face contorted with rage, her voice cutting like a whip. "Coming here out of nothing and all mysterious, wrapping everyone around your fingers. But you're a harlot! Nothing but a nasty, common slut! That's all you are, Rose Williams!"
The words hit Rose like a slap, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she reached out a trembling hand. "Betty, I'm sorry—"
"Get out," Betty snarled, her voice low and icy. "Get out of my house and don't ever come near me again."
Rose's heart broke as she stared at her former friend, now filled with nothing but hatred. She turned and left, the door slamming behind her with a deafening finality. As she stumbled down the porch steps, sobs wracked her body. She had known this would hurt, but she hadn't expected the sheer cruelty of Betty's words.
Walking back home through the quiet streets, Rose felt hollow, her guilt heavier than ever. She knew she had lost a friend, and no apology could ever fix it. All Rose wanted now was to find Jack, bury her face in his chest, and let him wrap his arms around her. She wanted to hear his calm, reassuring voice tell her that none of it mattered, that they were stronger than this. But when she opened the door to the farmhouse, she was met with anything but peace.
The scent of something burning hit her first. Mrs. Turner was in the kitchen, frantically waving a towel at the smoke curling up from a pan on the stove.
"Oh, heavens! This blasted thing won't cooperate!" Mrs. Turner muttered, poking at the food as if sheer determination would save it.
Evelyn was in the living room, stomping her feet and shrieking loudly enough to shake the windows. Toys were scattered everywhere, and a chair was toppled over.
Jack was on one knee, his hands on Evelyn's shoulders, his face taut with frustration as he tried to soothe her. "Evie, calm down! What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong!"
"I don't want to calm down!" Evelyn wailed, throwing her arms up and narrowly missing Jack's face.
Rose stood in the doorway, frozen for a moment. Her exhaustion collided with the chaotic scene, and her heart sank. There was no room for her emotions here, not now.
Jack caught sight of her and gave her a quick, apologetic glance. "Rose, hey—"
Before he could say anything else, Evelyn let out another high-pitched scream. Jack sighed and turned back to the little girl. "Evelyn, please—what happened? Why are you so upset?"
Rose let out a long breath and stepped further inside, her hands tightening into fists at her sides to keep herself from trembling. "Mrs. Turner," she called, trying to inject some calm into the storm.
The older woman turned, frazzled, and gave Rose a weary smile. "Oh, my dear, you're back! This child has been beside herself all afternoon, and the stove decided it hates me."
"I'll take care of dinner," Rose said, moving toward the kitchen.
"No, no, you've been out—"
"I'll take care of it," Rose repeated firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Mrs. Turner hesitated but finally stepped back with a grateful sigh. "Bless you, dear. I'll see if I can help Jack with Evelyn."
As Rose worked to salvage the dinner, she listened to Jack's patient but exasperated attempts to calm Evelyn and Mrs. Turner's occasional interjections. The noise filled the house, leaving no room for the solace Rose had been yearning for.
She stirred the pot on the stove, biting her lip against the tears threatening to fall. Every clang of a pan, every stomp of Evelyn's feet, every word of Jack's gentle pleading felt like a barrier between her and the comfort she so desperately needed.
By the time dinner was ready and Evelyn was finally soothed enough to sit at the table, Rose's emotions were locked away behind a carefully constructed wall. She smiled as she placed the food on the table, exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Turner, and joined in Jack's small talk.
But calmness soon manifested into chaos once again. Evelyn sat with her arms crossed and a stubborn pout on her face, glaring at her plate as if it had personally offended her.
"Evie, come on," Jack coaxed gently. "You've barely had a bite. You need to eat something."
"I'm not hungry," Evelyn muttered, poking her fork at a piece of potato with clear disdain.
Mrs. Turner, ever the optimist, tried to reason with her. "Sweetheart, you'll feel much better with a full tummy. You've had a long day."
Evelyn ignored her, fidgeting in her chair and making the legs scrape against the floor.
Jack sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Evelyn—"
Before he could continue, Rose put her fork down and placed her napkin on the table. "That's enough, Evelyn," she said firmly, her tone calm but brooking no argument.
Evelyn looked up at her with wide eyes, clearly startled.
"Let's go," Rose said, standing and walking to her side. "You need a bath before bed."
"But I'm not dirty!" Evelyn protested, crossing her arms even tighter.
"You're going," Rose replied, her voice soft but resolute. "No arguments."
Jack shot Rose a grateful look, but she didn't acknowledge it. Her focus was entirely on Evelyn, who reluctantly slid off her chair and stomped toward the stairs.
"I'll be back soon," Rose said over her shoulder, following the little girl upstairs.
Yet, Rose never returned to the dinner table. Jack had already guessed it following the exhaustion which hung on her face. The house was silent save for the faint creaks of settling wood. Jack hesitated for a moment before knocking softly on her bedroom door. A few seconds later, the door opened, revealing Rose in her nightgown. Her hair was loosely braided, draped over one shoulder, and her eyes were tired but gentle. She stepped aside to let Jack in without a word.
He moved to her bed, sitting on the edge, his hands resting on his knees. "How did it go?" he asked, his voice low but laced with concern.
Rose closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment before walking over. She sighed deeply as she sat beside him, her gaze fixed on her hands clasped in her lap. "Horrible," she admitted. "Betty hates me." Her voice wavered slightly, but there was no mistaking the weight in her words.
Jack reached out, resting his hand over hers. "What did she say?" he asked carefully.
Rose inhaled sharply, as if bracing herself. "She said I was cruel for letting her find out that way. That I should have told her from the start. Then she said I was selfish for taking you when I barely know what I want." She paused, her brow furrowing in thought. "I will spare you the things she called me."
Jack's jaw tightened, but he stayed quiet, letting her speak.
"But you know what I find so strange, Jack?" she continued, looking up at him now, her eyes searching his face. "After all the horrible things she said to me, I felt sadness, but I also felt this… this wave of relief wash over me. Like I didn't care. I still don't care, in a way, because it doesn't change anything about us, right?"
"Of course it doesn't." Jack spoke softly, reassuring her.
Rose let her body fall down onto her bed and she looked up at him. "I don't care if people find out. They can talk whatever they want."
Jack followed her movement and they let a silence fill the room. Eventually, the bed started to creak under their weight as Jack and Rose lay side by side, their legs awkwardly entangled in the limited space. The closeness made them laugh softly, muffling the sound with their hands to avoid waking anyone else. Jack reached over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Rose's ear, his touch lingering against her cheek.
"You know," Jack murmured, his voice low and teasing, "we might have better luck fitting on a haystack again."
Rose laughed quietly, her cheeks flushing. "At least the haystack doesn't threaten to tip over if we move too much," she quipped, her eyes sparkling in the dim light.
Jack leaned in, his lips brushing hers gently at first, then deepening into an intimate kiss. His hand slipped beneath the edge of her nightgown, resting softly on her thigh. Rose shivered, not from the cold but from the warmth of his touch, her breath hitching slightly as his hand began to slide further up.
"Let's just forget anyone and anything right now," Jack whispered against her lips, his voice husky with emotion.
Rose closed her eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. She was lost in the moment, in Jack's touch, in the way he made the world melt away. Just as his hand brushed higher, an ear-piercing scream shattered the tranquility.
"Evelyn," Rose gasped, sitting up abruptly, her heart still racing but now for a different reason. She slid off the bed in one swift motion, smoothing down her nightgown as she went.
Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself as well. "I'll wait here," he muttered softly, his tone caught between concern and frustration at the untimely interruption.
Rose gave him a small, apologetic smile before leaving the room. She hurried down the hall to Evelyn's room, where the little girl sat up in her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Evie, sweetheart, what's wrong?" Rose asked gently, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling the child into her arms.
"I had a bad dream," Evelyn whimpered, clutching Rose tightly. "There was a big storm, and everyone disappeared. Even Mama and Papa."
"Oh, my darling," Rose murmured, stroking Evelyn's hair. "It was just a dream. I'm here, and you're safe. Mama and Papa are right here too."
Evelyn sniffled, her small hands clutching the fabric of Rose's nightgown. "Will you stay with me?"
Rose kissed the top of her head. "Of course, I'll stay. Let's lie down, and I'll hum you back to sleep."
She helped Evelyn settle back under the covers and began humming softly, a tune she remembered from her own childhood.
Rose tiptoed down the hall, her feet silent on the wooden floorboards. Evelyn had finally settled, her soft, even breaths reassuring Rose that the little girl was deep in sleep. Rose quietly opened the door to her room, the soft creak of the hinges breaking the silence of the late night. She paused, expecting to see Jack sitting up, waiting for her return. Instead, to her surprise, he was sprawled across the narrow bed, his head resting against the wall, his legs bent slightly to fit the small space. His chest rose and fell steadily, his face softened by sleep.
A small chuckle escaped her lips as she stepped closer, the sight of him so unexpectedly peaceful that it tugged at her heart. She debated waking him, but the warmth of seeing him there—so unguarded, so utterly at home in her space—made her decide against it.
Gingerly, she eased herself onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Jack stirred, letting out a low, sleepy groan as he shifted, his hand brushing against her thigh. His eyes fluttered open briefly, hazy and unfocused.
"You're back," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered, smiling as she reached out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "Move over a little, or we're both going to end up on the floor."
He made a vague, half-hearted attempt to scoot to the side, grumbling something incoherent as he did. Rose laughed softly, slipping into the narrow space beside him. The bed was impossibly small for two people, and as she lay on her side, she couldn't help but notice the sticky warmth of their bodies pressed together in the humid summer air.
Jack shifted again, draping an arm lazily around her waist as if by instinct. "You smell like lilacs," he murmured, his words barely audible.
"Probably just sweat," Rose replied dryly, though her lips curved into a smile as she nestled closer.
He let out a low laugh, his hand smoothing over the fabric of her nightgown where it clung to her back. "Still smells nice," he said, his voice laced with drowsiness.
Rose rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Her fingers idly traced small circles on his forearm, her body melting into his as if they'd been made to fit together in just this way. Despite the heat, there was something profoundly comforting in his presence, the sense of safety he brought.
Jack's breathing deepened again, his arm tightening slightly around her as he drifted back to sleep. Rose tilted her head up, her gaze lingering on his face in the dim moonlight filtering through the window. There was something childlike in his features when he was asleep, a vulnerability that made her chest ache.
"Goodnight, Jack," she whispered softly, her lips brushing against his shoulder before she settled against him again.
The sunlight streamed in through the crack in the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Rose was still half asleep, her body pressed against Jack's, the warmth of his arm wrapped securely around her. She felt the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her, and for a moment, she could have stayed like that forever.
Suddenly, the door to her room burst open with a squeal, and Evelyn came rushing in, her small feet barely touching the floor as she made a beeline for the bed.
"Good morning, Rose!" Evelyn giggled loudly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She jumped onto the bed with all the enthusiasm a child could muster, landing in between Rose and Jack. The movement startled Jack, and his eyes flew open in an instant.
Her mouth fell open for a moment before she broke into a fit of giggles. "Uncle Jack! What are you doing here?"
Jack bolted upright, his eyes wide as he scrambled to pull the sheet over himself. Rose, equally startled, sat up quickly, her cheeks flushed with both surprise and embarrassment.
"Evelyn!" Rose exclaimed, unsure how to respond.
Jack, however, was quick on his feet—or at least quick with his words. "Well, you see, Evie," he began, sitting on the edge of the bed and grinning at his niece, "I was reading Rose a bedtime story last night, and I guess I just... fell asleep."
"A story?" Evelyn's curiosity lit up her face. "What story?"
"Uh…" Jack faltered for a moment before catching sight of a book on the bedside table. He grabbed it and held it up. "This one! About, um… rabbits. Very exciting stuff."
Evelyn giggled, clearly unconvinced but enjoying the spectacle nonetheless. "You fell asleep here?" she teased, bouncing onto the bed and plopping herself between Jack and Rose. "You must have been really tired, Uncle Jack!"
Jack ruffled her hair, trying his best to keep her attention away from Rose, who was still mortified. "I sure was, Evie. Now, what do you say we go find some breakfast? I'm starving. Aren't you?"
Evelyn nodded enthusiastically, already sliding off the bed. "Yes! Let's go!"
"Great idea," Jack said, standing and quickly tucking the book back onto the nightstand. He turned to Rose, giving her a subtle wink before ushering Evelyn toward the door. "Let's keep this little visit between us, alright? Mrs. Turner doesn't need to know I snuck in here to read Rose a story. Deal?"
Evelyn giggled again, nodding. "Deal!"