Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
LOUISA
R osie stands at the kitchen counter with me, but her usual fire is dimmed today. She stirs the pot of red sauce, her hand shaking more than usual. I move closer to where she stands.
“Are you okay, Ro?—”
Harry waltzes in after changing his clothes and doing a bit of bookkeeping. He dots a kiss to the crown of Rosie’s head and snakes a hand behind my neck while his mother isn’t looking, planting one to my jaw before winking at me as he strides out the door.
Cheeky man.
Rosie could have turned back and seen us.
It’s not that I am ashamed of what lies between us. More the fact I don’t want Rosie to get her hopes up. Or make it awkward for her in her own house. I am all too aware three’s a crowd. Ma’s friendship is too valuable to me to ruin it by moving too fast, only to crash and burn.
“Do you think it needs more herbs?” A soft voice pulls me from my inner rationalizations.
“Hmmm. Let me try.”
I pull the cutlery drawer open and grab up a teaspoon. Diving it into the sauce, I take a small portion and blow on it as it steams. I take a tentative taste, the hot liquid touching the tip of my tongue. Something is missing...
“Maybe a little more paprika. Just a touch. Otherwise, it’s delicious.”
She offers a soft smile, swiping at the paprika and dousing the bubbling liquid with a few shakes. I stir in it for her with the large wooden spoon. The aroma wafts through the kitchen, and now it smells perfect. Rosie takes a fresh teaspoon, repeating the tasting procedure. She takes a small taste, and her eyes light up for the first time today. “You’re right. My gosh, Louisa, this is deli?—”
Her face crumples, twisting in pain.
I discard the stirring and still. Something like dread curls in my gut. I could tell she was off from the moment I arrived.
The spoon falls from her hand, clattering on the wood floor.
She falters and slumps against the counter. I grab for her.
“Rosie!”
Her eyes are strained and fixed on my face. Her mouth opens to speak.
She gasps, clawing at my arm as I lower her to the floor.
No.
No. No. No.
God above, please no.
One hand falls away from my arm, then her palm pushes into her chest. She slams it over her heart, like that will dislodge the pain. Her face and neck are now reddened with strain.
I look around.
Harry is long gone.
I can’t leave her.
“Harry!” I shout toward the window as I sink to my knees, trying to hold her up as I desperately hunt for something to help her. The phone is on the other side of the kitchen. The Lewistown ambulance is at least an hour away.
I cup her face in my hands as tears burn my eyes. “I’m going to get Harry, okay? Just stay here and breathe slow, deep breaths.”
She nods, a shallow movement that fades out my last bit of hope. I take off through the house and burst through the front door. The truck is here, he can’t be too far.
I sprint for the barn. “HARRY!”
I fly into the dim, hay-littered space.
It’s empty.
No Harry.
“HARRY!”
I take off toward the old yards. Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision. This is not happening!
Shit, not now. Not when they just made a fresh start.
I stumble over the uneven ground in my house shoes as I cut through the field to the yards.
“Harry, where are you?!”
He bursts around the back of the barn, rushing toward me, terror contorting his features. He all but collides with me. Covered in dirt and grease, he grabs my arms. “Louisa?”
My face crumples, my head tilting. “It’s Ma. Please hurry, she collapsed. I think it’s her heart.”
“Dammit,” he growls, taking off toward the house. I take off after him. I can’t stop the tears flowing down my cheeks. My heart thunders, panic clawing at my insides. I groan, pushing it down.
Not. Now. Louisa.
We are not doin’ this now.
I hesitate, the rough grass prickling under my feet. With every breath, I will the hideous effects of anxiety back down.
Time and place.
And this ain’t it.
Semi-composed, I take off at a run for the house. The gravel bites my left foot. I don’t bother looking down.
Fear for Rosie drives me forward.
By the time I make it back to the kitchen, I realize I have lost a shoe, and Ma is lying on the sofa. Harry is pacing, the phone receiver in one hand, the other running through his messy hair. The long spiral cord stretches out and collapses against the wall with every lap he takes.
I limp to where Rosie sits and sink onto the side of the sofa. I swipe at my face, trying to dry it off. Her eyes are closed. Her breathing is steady but too shallow, and she looks so small. Her fine hand slides from her side, wrapping around mine.
“Promise me you’ll take care of him for me.”
“No, Rosie, please...” I force the words past an impending sob.
“I’m handing this ship over to you, my girl,” she gasps.
I shake my head, dislodging welled-up tears.
Her expression turns pleading.
I nod. “I will, I promise. I got it.”
The smallest smile moves her lips, and she closes her eyes. Harry appears by my side. “Ambulance is on its way, might take a while, though.”
Rosie opens her eyes at the sound of his voice.
He leans over, taking one of her hands. “How’s the pain, Ma?”
Her breath hitches, and she winces.
That’s not good.
“Ma?” Harry drops to his knees by the sofa, both of his hands now wrapped around her frail one. “Hold on, please.”
Her head shakes, as if saying no. And when she turns to her son, a tear glides down her temple, soaking into the worn fabric beneath her.
“Water,” she rasps.
He bolts to his feet and rushes into the kitchen. Rosie’s gaze finds me.
“I did it for him—my boy,” she whispers, taking my hands in hers.
“Did what, Rosie?” I say, matching her soft tone, barely audible.
“I had to.” Her face breaks, but she schools it back. “This is my penance. He never would have let you two have any of this. He wasn’t going to let Harry have...” Rosie glances toward the kitchen.
Who? Eddy?
Rosie Rawlins, what did you do?
I sit frozen, perched precariously on the side of the sofa. Harry starts his way back to the living room but halts halfway when he notices his mother clutching my hand.
“I know it wasn’t right, but it was necessary .” A tear slides down her cheek.
“Oh, Rosie.”
“Promise me, Louisa.” Her eyes are pleading.
She doesn’t voice what that promise is, but I know she means keeping what happened with Eddy a secret. To save this life Harry wants to build for us.
I bury my heads in my hands for a moment, working through long breaths. Footsteps pad toward us and I lift my gaze.
Harry lowers to his knees by her side and helps her sip the water. Rosie swallows and lays back down. He tilts his head, his brows lowering as his mouth wobbles to a thin line. His Adam’s apple bobs before he says, “What are we talkin’ about, Ma?”
“Your father.”
“Fuckin’ hell, Ma. Not now,” he breathes.
I guess there really is nothing greater than a mother’s love. She made a sacrifice so great, so terrible, for the chance for her only child to live the life he wanted. That kind of bond between mother and son is only something you imagine exists in fairytales.
Tears course down my cheeks, and when Rosie drags her eyes from Harry to meet mine, it’s all I can do to force a smile. I can’t blame her. Everyone thought it; she was simply the soul brave enough to do it. I hug Harry’s shoulder, and Rosie winces again, her breaths quickening.
She is dying right in front of us, and there is absolutely nothing we can do. Rosie grabs at her collar as Harry runs a hand over her hair. “It’s okay Ma, you’ll be okay. Those trees of yours have been listening. You’ve done your bit. Carried your load well. Just rest... Please .”
I sob into Harry’s shoulder, trying so hard to stifle the pain of watching Harry lose his mother. Rosie’s eyes fall shut. A small whimper leaves her lips as she rolls into him. He leans in, hugging her tight. He rubs her arm, talking softly to her. I wrap myself around him, not willing to let go.
After all she went through, they went through... For time to be cut off. It’s?—
Rosie goes rigid, then slumps.
Harry leans back, desperately searching her face.
“Ma,” he rasps.
Oh god.
She stills, her hand wrapped in her son’s.
Harry’s head sinks to the sofa beside her, his body shaking so badly the sofa moves.
“Oh, Harry.” I curl around him, nestling my face into his shoulder. A long, painful groan reverberates from him. I chug through sobs. He rises to his knees, resting Rosie’s hand over her stomach, and turns to slump against the sofa.
On my knees by his side, I wait.
He stares ahead, his body still trembling, hands shaking in his lap. I take them and slide onto his lap, wrapping myself around him, like I can protect him from the agony that just found him.
He chugs sobs into my hair. His hands find my hips and grip tight. I hold on, hold against the pain ravaging his heart.
I’m handing this ship over to you , Rosie said. What on earth does that mean?
Her family?
Harry?
A renewed sense of protectiveness washes over me. Followed by something stronger still—unconditional love. For this man. This family of two who fought so hard to make the most of each day, despite the shitty hand they were dealt. If Rosie Rawlins had the strength to weather that monster of a husband of hers and protect her son all these years, I can do the same.
Harry draws a shaky, long inhale. I lean back, untangling myself from around him. When those deep blues finally hit home, I see torment and grief warring each other.
“You loved her well, Harry, you did so good by her,” I whisper the words, thumbing his cheeks in a fruitless effort to dry away the constant stream running down them.
He simply swallows.
He’s too still.
Shock is setting in.
I tilt my head, forcing the sob that wants out of my throat all the way back down. I promised to take care of him, and it’s exactly what I am going to do.
“I’ll put on the kettle,” I say softly, rising from his lap.
His body jostles a little as I leave, but his stare stays pinned straight ahead. My heart cracks clean in two for the only man I will ever love.
Huh.
The realization is like a slap to the face.
I grip the edge of the counter and take in a much-needed lungful of air. Shaking out the haze threatening to pull me under, I pluck up the old kettle and fill it at the sink. Turning the center burner on, I set it down and leave it to boil.
Down the hall, I take out a blanket for Rosie. Harry still hasn’t moved when I return. I cover her up, folding her hands over her chest and making sure her eyes are closed. I run my fingers over her dark hair, letting the tears fall silently for a moment.
The kettle squeals, and I spin back to make the tea. As I’m pulling mugs from the cupboard, the faint oscillation of a siren fades in.
Too late.
Minutes later, a knock rattles the door. I pad to it and let them in, giving them a brief rundown of what happened. One of the men simply nods. The other walks outside to use his radio.
I cross the living room to where Harry sits and kneel by his side. “Harry? The ambulance is here. Let them see to her?”
Dark eyes snap to mine. A groan falls from him as he staggers to his feet. Without a word, he stalks for the back door.
It slams behind him.
The two halves of my broken heart shatter to smithereens.