Chapter Twenty-Two Rosalynn
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rosalynn
The next morning, Rosalynn was a mess.
Mostly due to minimal sleep because of the nightmare. She’d dreamed variations of the performance over the years, not just repeats of the accident that ended right as she leaped. In some, she finished the production unharmed, accepting a bouquet from her father as she received a standing ovation.
In others? One of her parents suffered the accident. Or worse yet, one of them died.
The irony of it all? When awake, she couldn’t remember anything about that performance over thirty-five years ago beyond her first glide onto the stage for that starring role in The Nutcracker.
So every incarnation of that evening felt completely real, even if some parts came from other people’s recounting.
The horror of her nightmare still burned through her even now as she zipped her vanity bag closed to secure her medications, then tossed her makeup into the matching paisley toiletry kit.
Behind her, she heard the rustling of her mom opening and closing the hotel door, going out to pack the van.
Her mother had started the day early for once.
Of course she would want to get back to the hospice facility as soon as possible.
Rosalynn accidentally dropped a tube of lip gloss on the floor and wondered how much longer it would be until Dusty was back from his walk with Elsie. Reflected in the mirror, she saw Elsie shouldering through the door with the yellow Labrador.
She held the leash in one hand and clutched her cell in the other, speaking to one of her friends. “It stinks that the hurricane hit so soon, but at least you’ve got a break with the eye of the storm. Right?”
Willow’s voice carried from the device softly. “Remind me, where are y’all now?”
Elsie kicked the door closed and untethered Dusty, waving him deeper into the room. “We’re in a backwoods motel someplace in North Carolina. The traffic yesterday sucked.”
“I’m just happy you’re all okay after that wreck.”
Dusty trotted over to Rosalynn, checking in with her as he always did when returning. Smiling, she passed him a treat, then hand-signaled him to pick up her lip gloss. She wanted to hear Elsie’s conversation and feared her daughter would leave if Rosalynn spoke up.
Elsie flopped back on the bed, her cell held up. “Why are you whispering?”
Willow answered, “I’m not supposed to be on my phone. My mom wants me to save my cell battery.”
“Why can’t you just recharge it?” Elsie asked.
“The power’s officially out now,” Willow said, her voice still low. “No more flickering off and on. It’s crazy hot already, but we can’t open the windows.”
Rosalynn zipped her makeup bag closed, thankful they’d left when they had since the storm had made landfall earlier than forecast, then stalled, dumping so much more water. Would she have stayed longer if her mom hadn’t come? She certainly wouldn’t have gone to Biloxi with Seth.
She and her daughter would have been so isolated and vulnerable. She’d known that intellectually, but hearing the fear in Willow’s quiet voice hammered home the gravity.
The danger.
Elsie flipped over onto her stomach. “It looks pretty dark inside. Who else stayed?”
Outside their hotel, a siren wailed, drowning out Willow’s answer, fading halfway through Elsie’s response.
“—but you’re going to be okay, right?” Elsie rolled to her side, her back to Rosalynn. “Just sweaty and bored?”
“I think so.” Willow’s voice wobbled. “But I’m scared for the horses. I wish I could stay with them in the barn. I hope the cats took shelter in there, because I couldn’t catch them.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask you to come with us. I was being selfish, all wrapped up in my stuff.”
“Relatable,” Willow said. “Anything happen with—”
“Hey,” Elsie interrupted, sitting up fast. “I should let you save your battery. And we need to hit the road. Text me when you can so I’ll know you’re all right.”
Her daughter disconnected the call. Almost rudely. Maybe the hurricane was overwhelming her even from a distance.
Rosalynn wheeled back from the vanity, turning. Through the part in the curtains, she saw her mom leaning against the bumper of the van, talking into her own phone.
Shifting her attention to her daughter, Rosalynn moved closer. “Elsie, honey, I only caught the tail end of that, but it sounds scary back home. I’m sure you must be worried for your friends.”
She searched her daughter’s face, the fear in her eyes so intense she wanted to hug her tight. Then, in a blink, Elsie’s expression closed off, her walls firmly in place again.
“Yeah, it sounds rough,” Elsie said as she swung her feet off the mattress. “The bottom floor of their house has a couple of inches of water, and there’s no electricity. The phone connection cut out when we talked last night. I don’t know what I would do without my phone.”
Rosalynn propelled her chair closer. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?” Eyes wide, Elsie clutched her phone to her chest.
“The hurricane. Worries for your friend. For our house, even.”
“Oh, right.” She tipped her attention back to her cell and scrolled. “Folks online are already posting some crazy bad video clips.”
She held up the screen to show an image of palmetto trees bowing in the torrential rain and wind. In another, the storm plucked apart a dock, one board at a time spiraling up until the rest of the pier floated away. “There are photos all over the internet. It’s awful.”
Rosalynn skimmed her daughter’s damp hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “It’s incredible—and frightening—how fast information can spread on the web.”
Elsie went pale and her gaze dropped to her phone. The silence stretched between them, the kind Rosalynn sensed would bear fruit if she just waited. Elsie sniffled, her eyes glinting with tears. Rosalynn sat unmoving, afraid if she so much as blinked, her daughter would close up again.
Elsie’s thumb twitched along her phone case.
The key card chimed from outside an instant before Lillian stepped inside. “I’m about ready to head out. I just need to gather my paperwork and whatever else the two of you have left.”
She stopped by the tiny table, unplugging her laptop and wedging it into her oversize embroidered bag. Her bustling presence snapped the fragile connection Rosalynn had finally managed to find with her daughter.
Elsie grabbed her backpack. “I’ll wait in the van.” She snatched the keys off the bedside table. “I’ll start the air conditioner.”
The door slammed closed after the teen. Rosalynn deflated, air whooshing from her in disappointment.
Lillian snorted, sliding files into her stitched bag on top of the computer in a tight fit. “Hopefully she doesn’t drive off and leave us.”
“Stubbornness seems imprinted in our DNA. Quite the legacy,” she said. “I’ll never forget how mad you were with Nana Della when she brought me to DC without consulting you first.”
“Mama and I had quite the argument there in front of the White House.”
“Keeping the secret about our travel plans to join you was difficult.” Except she’d known if she slipped up and revealed Della’s agenda, her mom would never have let her attend the march. Her mother’s protectiveness had been smothering back then. It still was.
Pushing the point, though, always seemed to trigger more arguments between her folks. As an adult, she understood a child wasn’t responsible for her parents’ breakup. As a teen? The guilt about wrecking their marriage had been crushing.
The guilt now weighed just as heavily from making demands on her mother at a heartbreaking time. The stress lines on Lillian’s face were deep today. Her mother moved in such a rush an envelope slid free, fluttering to the ground.
Rosalynn pointed toward the fallen letter. “Dusty, get it.”
The Labrador pawed at the paper until an end curled up and he gently took it in his mouth. He ambled across the carpet to Rosalynn.
“Drop it,” she said. He released the paper onto her lap. She flipped it over to find a logo on the envelope from a US representative from Virginia. “Hey Mom, what big cases are you cooking up?”
She waggled the letter.
Lillian rushed to snatch it from her and stuffed it into her needlepoint bag. “Thanks. I packed on the fly for this trip, so I’m less than organized.”
Something in her mother’s evasiveness and the way she avoided eye contact made Rosalynn curious. “The congressional return address looked official.”
Lillian shook her head, her brown hair smoothed into a low ponytail.
A handful of grays glinted, an unspoken testimony to how little free time she had.
Lillian had never been one to miss a hairdresser appointment once the silver strands started.
She’d always vowed that while she respected Della’s bold embrace of graying, she would fight to the end.
With her stylist’s help.
“Come on, Mom.” Rosalynn hooked her bag onto her chair and closed the distance between them. “Spill the details.”
“It’s just a follow-up to a meeting,” Lillian said dismissively.
“With a US congressman. That’s big.”
What else had her mom been hiding? Lillian wasn’t necessarily humble. She simply insisted she didn’t have time to toot her own horn.
Lillian sagged into the rolling chair. “I met with the congressman, his staff, and the party chair a couple of weeks ago. He’s retiring. He offered his endorsement if I run for his seat.”
“Mom, that’s incredible.” She slid an arm around her mother in a half hug of congratulations. “Why didn’t you say something? Heaven knows we had plenty of time to talk in the van yesterday.”
“Because it isn’t going to happen.” Lillian flattened her hands on top of her bag as if to keep the possibility sealed away. “I would have to commit by the end of this month to receive the financing.”
Rosalynn searched for gentle words to make her point. “But the active campaigning wouldn’t start until . . . later.”
Lillian flinched, her face tight with grief. “I can’t accept something because I know my husband would be dead by then.”
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” Thinking of the future sent an answering pain through her. “I’m sorry. The thought of him dying is gut-wrenching. I’ll just hush before I make things worse.”
“Apology accepted. It’s not like I’ll be in any shape . . . after . . .” She swallowed, her hands massaging along her throat. “I just won’t.”
Rosalynn shook her head. “On that point, I disagree. You’ve always been one to throw yourself into a task or your job as a distraction. I envy you that ability.”
Lillian tipped her head to the side, her arched eyebrows pinching together. “Does your work not bring you joy? I was so happy when you landed the marketing director position at the arts center.”
No question, her mother was trying to redirect the conversation, but Rosalynn couldn’t keep the longing from bubbling up and out. “It doesn’t bring me as much joy as what I should be doing, what I was born to do.”
Her dream still teased at the edges of her mind and heart.
The most difficult part of those nightmares was waking up with the sensation of dancing hovering so close in her consciousness, she could still feel the wooden stage under her feet.
The air tasted different when she took flight, but that life was over.
Her mom could still pursue a dream opportunity such as this one. And before her return trip home, Rosalynn intended to put all those hardheaded genes to work persuading her mother to go for it.
As for Elsie? Rosalynn would double down on breaking through her daughter’s defensive walls, then convince her to come home where she belonged.