Chapter Thirty-Six Rosalynn
Chapter Thirty-Six
Rosalynn
Rosalynn pushed the wheels on her chair with extra force to ground her trembling hands.
This conversation with Elsie was far from over, but she would respect that her daughter needed some space after confessing something so difficult.
No wonder Elsie had been a wreck recently.
The thought of someone violating her child’s trust with those photos .
. . It was all she could manage not to sic the cops on anyone even remotely connected.
Her palms slid off the wheels and she stopped just shy of the entrance, giving herself a moment to compose herself before she faced her parents and Elsie.
Closing her eyes, she focused on the trickle of the fountain, the croaking of the frogs, the chirping of a bird.
Dusty whimpered beside her, pressing his head on her knee, but she was beyond consolation right now.
Her belly filled with rage. She would make sure those responsible paid. She needed a plan, because heaven forbid they get away with what they’d done and prey on someone else.
How odd that in this moment she identified with her mother and grandmother. Their fire and their grit were stamped in her DNA.
She would need Lillian’s input at some point.
But when? Even if she called South Carolina law enforcement tonight, or in the morning, how could they investigate when the whole Charleston area was in the middle of a natural disaster?
Not that Elsie seemed in the least inclined to talk to the authorities.
The sound of the electric door shooshing startled her. Was Elsie back? Rosalynn opened her eyes.
Ben Nguyen stepped through, carrying a couple of fast-food sacks. “Just who I was looking for.” He paused, searching her face for a moment. “Is everything okay? Did something happen with your father?”
“He seemed the same when I left his room. Tired, but lucid.” She scrubbed a hand over her gritty eyes. “I had some, uh, stressful news on another matter. I’ll be all right, though. Thank you for all you’ve done for my family today. I realize it’s your job, but I appreciate the help.”
“Don’t mention it.” He held up the two plastic bags. “I was on my way out and bumped into your ex-husband. He left this at the front desk. It’s your supper, I believe, and the keys to your van. He said something about calling an Uber and checking into a hotel.”
Was it wrong to feel relieved to have Seth out of her sphere for now?
“Thank you. Message received.” She would have to talk to Seth about their daughter soon, but she appreciated the extra time to sort through her thoughts and discuss more with Elsie—after she calmed down.
Her phone chimed with a text from her mother. We’ll picnic in the family gathering room instead. Your father’s too tired to go outside.
The last sentence broke her heart.
“That’s my mother. She wants to have the dinner inside after all. Probably for the best since it’s muggy out here.” Her hands started shaking again. She wasn’t ready to face everyone yet.
“If you need another minute outside, I can drop off the food with them. This place can be rough on the emotions for families. You need to pace yourself.”
The show of sympathy eased the pressure cooker inside her. “It’s okay. I’m ready.”
He waited for Dusty to nail the door opener, his smile lighting his deep brown eyes. Was she drawn to him out of some rebound need to be affirmed? Immaterial since the man was only doing his job. Although was fast food delivery service really a part of his official duties?
Inside, the strains of guitar music, a country tune of some sort, drifted down the corridor. Her father or Elsie? Each strum fanned the turmoil in her gut back to life.
Once Ben set the bags on a table in the common room, she smiled her appreciation. “See you tomorrow.”
“Count on it,” he said.
And even though she’d only just met the man, something about his quiet, level manner made her think he kept his word on even the small things.
Like her father did.
Ace sat in a recliner by a window with a portable oxygen tank.
No hospital gown for him. He sported sweatpants and a button-down Hawaiian shirt.
But no guitar. The music came from Elsie sitting on the floor, huddled over the instrument.
Making herself smaller? Or channeling her emotion into music?
She had her cell phone in front of her as she plucked out a country ballad. “Neon Moon.” One of Ace’s favorites.
Her daughter played with an unmistakable skill and talent that touched Rosalynn’s heart. While also pinching a bit that Elsie had held this back for so long. Technique like hers only came with extensive practice. But then Rosalynn understood all too well how personal art could be to the performer.
She wheeled her chair past a couple playing cards, toward her father. Her mother touched her shoulder lightly before bustling over to the sacks and pulling out containers for their dinner. How many family dinners did they have left?
Rosalynn tapped her father’s hand, careful of the bruises from IVs. “Can I get you anything?”
“I’d like to pet Dusty, if he’s available for a work break.”
Her father knew to ask. Lord love him.
“Of course. He’s always had a soft spot for you.” She shifted the leash to her other hand. “Dusty, say hello.”
The Labrador circled over to her father for a head scratch, leaning into Ace’s touch. “Good boy.”
“Free time,” she cued, releasing Dusty to interact beyond a simple howdy-do. Her dog leaned against her father’s leg with his soulful eyes trained on Ace, earning an extra ear rub.
“Is Seth showing up here a sign of reconciliation?”
“No, heavens no,” she said without hesitation. “My marriage to Seth is over.”
“Are you okay, darlin’?”
As much as she wanted her dad to wade in and make things right, she couldn’t tell him about Elsie’s troubles. Not now. She settled on a safer struggle to share. “I just feel that I failed. I couldn’t pull it off like you and Mom did.”
“Totally different situation.” He squeezed her fingers.
Was it, though? “You and Mom worked through your drinking problem. I know that addiction is an illness, which makes me feel so . . . wrong for leaving Seth because of his gambling.”
His sigh rattled. “I’m not in any way excusing my behavior for all those years, but you understand that I sought treatment and attended AA meetings regularly.
I still do—you’d be amazed how many folks here join in.
Seth, well, he won’t even acknowledge there’s a problem.
You can’t do all the work. He has to want to change. ”
She understood that in her heart, thanks to attending Al-Anon family groups.
But the guilt still lingered for herself and for the pain her child was suffering.
Because, yes, right now, she blamed Seth for their daughter seeking the wrong kind of affirmation from a boy.
“You’re being polite not to call me an enabler for the years he and I were together. ”
“That’s not what I mean at all.” He raised their linked hands and put them against his heart. “I’m apologizing to you. I am sorry if my journey created a cycle that led you to him.”
“Daddy, don’t go there,” she said, regretting the sadness in the corners of his eyes but also seeing his need to deal with any regrets. “I shouldn’t put this on you right now.”
“We need to live our lives. And it has been a great joy and honor to be your father. Thank you for letting me dole out a bit more of that fatherly wisdom.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder like a million times before, thankful for this moment now. Outside, a cardinal flitted past the window. Nana Della had always said a cardinal was a deceased loved one coming to visit. What she wouldn’t give for time with her grandmother right now.
How would Della have handled Elsie’s troubles?
In her best bus driver voice, she would have called in favors from her laundromat ministry friends and had them scare the snot out of everyone involved. She missed Della and would have given anything to fight this battle alongside her. Their bond had been special.
As was Elsie and Grammie’s. They shared the kind of connection that would carry them through, no matter how difficult the struggle.
A whimper from Dusty drew her attention, and she wondered if she’d drifted off. Instead, it seemed her father was the one sneaking a cat nap. Dusty nudged his hand for another ear scratch.
Should she let him sleep? Except he’d been so excited about the meal. Her mother bustled around the table, setting places like a formal dinner. Her mom had always been all about the presentation of a meal and the importance of connecting over food.
Rosalynn patted her father on the chest gently. “Daddy, time to eat.”
Dusty nudged him more firmly, repeatedly, his behavior so persistent that dread flooded her. Still, her father didn’t waken.
“Mom? Mama . . .” Her voice cracked. “There’s something wrong.”