Chapter Thirty #2
Roger winced. How had he managed to make such a mess of matters? How could he not find a way for her to see? How could his love not be enough?
“Your father did nothing of the sort,” Rebecca said.
“That’s a lie,” Fannie accused. “I heard you. You both were hollering in the guest chamber, and after he left, you cried.”
“That has nothing to do with your father and all to do with me,” Rebecca said.
Her familiar scowl on her face, Fannie folded her arms over her chest, crushing the ribbon someone had neatly tied around her waist. “That sounds like a lie as well.”
Rebecca lowered herself onto her knees in front of his children. “Please understand that he did nothing wrong,” the woman said, her voice low. “And neither did either of you.”
She stared at his daughter for a moment. “Fannie, truly. I had a very lovely time here. The loveliest time. You all were wonderful hosts, but visits do need to end.”
“Why?” It was Michael who spoke the question out loud.
“Because my place is back on Mitre,” Rebecca said.
“But why?” His son pouted. “Is it better there?”
“For me, but not for you,” she told him. “You belong here. I promise. After all, we don’t have almond custard or candied quince after most meals.” Her lips twisted into a rather charming half smile, which made Roger’s entire being ache.
Before either child could say anything more, there was a loud clearing of a throat as Marguarite entered the hall, brushing her hands upon her apron. “You two are supposed to be napping,” she declared. “Rachel has been looking all over for you.”
“But…”
“Say a proper last ‘good-bye,’ to Miss Adler, and go find Rachel before she tears her own hair out,” Marguarite said, clucking her tongue.
With small nods, both children whispered “good-bye” to the woman once more.
Roger’s throat stung despite the fact he’d not said a word. Suddenly, he had no desire to listen to the conversation any longer.
“Fannie, Michael, are you supposed to be down here?” he said, stepping forward. Michael raced toward him and wrapped his little arms around his leg. Reaching down, Roger lifted the boy into his arms.
“We’re saying good-bye,” Fannie said, remaining in her position, staring up at him. “You’re making her leave,” she chided.
“But she said that wasn’t true,” Michael, his only defender, at least by the expression on Marguarite’s face, protested, laying his small head against Roger’s shoulder.
“Miss Adler is choosing to return to her life, like it was before we exploded her house,” he explained, rounding Rebecca and the maid so he could stand at Fannie’s side as well.
“It was the fire that actually destroyed it,” his daughter corrected. “And ‘choosing’ implies there was an option for her to stay.” She frowned and took his hand when he proffered it.
“Never permit anyone to tell you that you aren’t clever, Fannie,” Marguarite said.
“You’re right,” Rebecca said, raising her chin a little. “The word ‘choosing’ necessitates an option.” She cleared her throat. “But you’re wrong that I did not have one. I did.”
A gasp escaped Marguarite’s lips.
“While the offer I was made was kind,” Rebecca continued, her voice becoming thick, causing Roger’s eyes to sting.
“I’m just not the sort who can accept.” She took an audible breath.
“As I said, I have been your guest these past few weeks, but, like with all guests, it’s time my visit came to an end,” she said, staring at him, not the girl.
“Visits aren’t real life. They’re merely diversions from it.
You cannot live in diversions, no matter how lovely. ”
“Can we come visit you?” Michael asked, turning back to Rebecca and leaning his head on Roger’s shoulder once more. He stuck his thumb into his mouth, sucking loudly, but Roger could not quite make himself correct the child. Perhaps later. After they all had a good nap.
“Anytime,” Rebecca said. “Provided you do not mix anything without permission.” She turned back to Fannie with a smile. “And I’d prefer if you knocked first.”
“All right,” the girl said, twisting a little at Roger’s side and clutching his hand tighter. Roger squeezed back.
Michael removed this thumb again and leaped from Roger’s arms. “I don’t want you to go.” He ran at the woman, throwing his little arms around her skirts once more. Before Roger could speak, his daughter had also broken away from him and rushed Rebecca, embracing her as well.
Rebecca’s eyes widened with surprise. For a moment the two of them stared at each other, and there was definitely a hint of panic in the blue-gray, which, at another time he’d have found amusing.
However, the woman rose to the occasion, or lowered, as she knelt once more, embracing each child back.
“Thank you so much for sharing your home with me,” she whispered.
“It was a great honor.” Her voice became a whisper, so Roger had to strain to hear.
“You shall always have a place in mine, no matter what. All of you.”
Something within him felt like it was cracking. He’d offered her everything he had, everything he now was. He’d transformed. For the better. But that wasn’t enough.
But life wasn’t fair. He straightened as his children stepped back from the embrace to exit the room, Fannie giving him a parting glare, probably mentally deciding to give him an earful later. No worse than what he deserved for somehow making such a mess of things.
He cleared his throat. Rebecca whirled around, her eyes widening as they met his, her lips parting slightly. She was so achingly beautiful that his chest ached.
“Is that for me?” she asked, pointing to the rose.
“Yes,” he whispered, holding it out to her. Hesitating for a moment, she reached out and accepted it, careful not to let even her gloved hand touch his.
“It’s beautiful.” She held the bloom to her nose, inhaling as she closed her eyes for a moment. “Thank you,” she whispered. She tilted her chin, gazing up at him again. “You really have a gift.”
“So, you’re off, then?” he said after a beat. “Do you need me to come with you and assist—”
“I shall be fine,” she said, voice a touch waspish. “Everyone you’ve hired appears exceptionally competent.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for—”
“I only repaired what was damaged, as was proper,” he reminded her. “It, however, has been an honor to have you in my home these few weeks. You’ve… helped me greatly.”
“I’m not sure about that,” she said.
“You did,” he insisted. “The children, they—” He pressed his fist to his lips for a moment, as if it could force down the emotions he was usually so good at stifling. “You were good for the children,” he told her, managing somehow to keep his voice level.
“I barely interacted with them,” she lied, not meeting his eye.
He was suddenly furious with her, with the situation, and once again himself.
“You did enough,” he told her, squeezing his fists to calm himself down. “They hold you in great esteem,” he added, his voice now hoarse. “As do I.”
“I…” She raised her chin a little.
“You helped me too,” he said. “You made me see things I didn’t want to see,” he admitted.
“And helped me understand…” Who I could become.
But he couldn’t quite say the words out loud.
He had tried already, and it didn’t matter to her.
And while it still mattered to him, he could just not form the words once more. Not that day.
“I learned a great deal from you as well,” she said, her voice soft.
“Like what?” he whispered, unable to stop himself from asking the question.
“That yellow and burgundy suit me as well as blue,” she teased.
“I believe that was my sister-in-law and Marguarite,” he responded, somehow both annoyed at the response and relieved, as he was now not sure how he could bear if she—
“You taught me about roses,” she said softly. “And patience. And permitted me, for a little while”—a small, sad smile flickered on her beautiful lips—“to see something new.”
“Rebecca.” The name was like a plea on his lips, for what, he could not say. After all, what was the purpose of asking for something that could not be?
“I can’t change,” she told him, as if she could hear his thoughts.
“I am who I am, and I like the world in which I live.” She raised her chin once more with the dignity of a queen.
“But this was a lovely place to visit,” she added with that same soft, sad smile, which he longed to coax into something more.
The only occupation he had ever truly wanted but would never be permitted to hold.
Thus Roger did the one thing he could do in the situation. He offered his arm to lead her to the door, like a proper person should.
“So this is it?” he asked as they drew closer to the exit, the sun shining behind Lopez, who was waiting to assist.
“It is,” she said firmly with another nod as they approached the door. She paused, turning back to him, holding the rose to her cheek—his rose. “I’ll see you… at Lira House most likely. For Shabbos or a holiday.”
The words were on the tip of his tongue. The ones that begged her to stay once more. But they’d already been said. And they weren’t enough. And thus, he forced them down from whence they came.
“I’ll make sure I say hello,” he told her instead, as she crossed over the threshold, out of his house, and out of his life.