Give My Love To Rose

[Graybread]

GIVE MY LOVE TO ROSE

In 1957, Johnny Cash wrote a song about a man that came across a dying man by the railroad tracks. The dying man gave the other man a bag of money and instructions to find his wife and give her both the money and his love.

This is the story of Rose and the man that found her husband.
It is set in a gentler, simpler time, somewhere between the market crash of ’29 and WWII, when it was safe to keep your front door unlocked at night, and your kids could play in the street until dark.

Tristesse will be playing the part of Rose.

Read along as these two explore their loses, their empathy and their feelings for each other.

IC

Walter reached over and shut the man’s dead eyes. His sorrow was deep for this unknown man. He felt his love for the wife and son that had waited for ten years, only to wait forever now.

Walter looked at the faded canvas bag of money. He could just make out the name; First National Bank of San Francisco.

“So you robbed a bank my friend,” he said glancing at the dead face, “I understand.”

Walter did understand, times were hard. The market crash had left many without jobs, even this many years later. The times had forced many to a life of crime, people like Dillinger, the Barker gang, Bonnie and Clyde just to make a living. Walter had even on occasion pilfered a pie from a windowsill. He pulled the bag open to see the money. Counting quickly he estimated there must be over two $2,000.00 dollars there.

“Oh my friend,” he said stuffing the bag under his jacket, “you have saved my life.”

He quickly went through the mans pockets looking for others treasures, but finding only the prison release papers. Around the mans neck, a small cross, the type a woman would wear. He snatched it from his neck and dropped it in his pocket, stuffing the release papers in his pocket as well, rising and looking around quickly. He needed a place to hide, a place to count. He looked in the boxcar, it was empty. He climbed in and crouched in the dark corner to count his newfound fortune. He couldn’t hide the money, he was always on the move, he would have to keep it on him.

Sometime later, after he’d hidden the money on his body in different pockets, stuffed in his worn shoes, he made it to the street of the unknown town he was in. He knew he was in Texas someplace, but not sure what town. He stopped at a seedy looking bar, sitting on the bar stool, and ordered a whiskey and a beer.

“Ya got money,” the bartender sneered at the ragged looking man sitting there.

“’Course I got money,” Walter said, slapping a twenty on the bar.

He woke amongst the trashcans the next morning, his head splitting and his stomach churning. He quickly checked himself for his hidden money, it all seemed to be there. What he needed now was coffee, a good cup, not that swill one got in the ‘hobo camps’. He stumbled to the street looking for the nearest café.

“Coffee,” he said to the waitress, “strong.”

“That’ll be a dime buddy,” she replied eyeing him up and down.

Walter reached in his pocket for the change he’d felt there earlier. He pulled his hand out, the small cross dangling from his fingers. He laid a dime on the counter. He could pawn the cross for .50 cents or so. He drank his coffee, feeling better, now all he needed was some new clothes. He’d seen a J. C. Penny down the street, he’d buy something there.

Later in the cheap hotel room, he unwrapped his bundles, a new shirt, pants, socks and underclothes. He laid them out on the bed as he stripped off his old tattered ones, emptying the pocket contents on the small table. The small cross dangled from his fingers. He looked at it before laying it on the table. He needed a bath now. He lounged in the tub until the water turned cold. Dressing in his new clothes and scooping the change off the table, he stuffed it all in his pocket. Whiskey was what he wanted now.

As he pulled the change out of his pocket, the cross once again dangled from his fingers. He stared at it for a long time. He searched his jacket pocket and found the prison release papers he’d taken off the man, looking for the location of his hometown.


Briton Springs, La Salle Parish, Louisiana

He left the bar and headed for the rail yard, looking for a train heading east. Three days later, he was in Briton Springs. A small community, mostly surrounded by cotton fields. He checked the street address once again and headed down the street. It was a small house, desperately in need of repair, it looked as if the roof leaked, and several of the windowpanes were cracked.

Taking a deep breath, he walked to the door, knocking lightly. A woman in a worn housedress answered the door, with a boy of perhaps ten at her side.

“Yes,” she said in pleasant voice. “Can I help you?”

“Are you Rose,” Walter asked.

“Yes, I’m Rose.”

Walter reached in his jacket pocket, pulled out the remaining $1800.00 and the small cross, and handed it to her.

“Your husband told me to give you this Ma’am….before he died.”

Her chin began to quiver and the tears welled in her eyes, she hugged the boy closer to her side.

“I’m sorry Ma’am….I spent some of it,” he said still holding the money. The small cross hanging from his fingers, the breeze catching it and causing it to spin. The rays of the late afternoon sun landing on it, making it shine and glimmer as he held it.

She reached up and took the money and cross from him, the tears running down her face now.

“I could maybe make it for you,” Walter said, looking up at the house “the money I spent.”

She didn’t answer, just stood there crying, looking at him. After a long uncomfortable minute of silence, Walter turned to leave. He at least felt better for what he had done, poorer perhaps, but his conscious was clear now. He could make it, he always did. He was almost to the broken gate before she spoke.

“Wait….,” she said.

 

[Guest]

Rose

Rose was making pastry with the last of the wheat flour. It was a warm day and she had opened the kitchen window to let the breeze in.

She hummed softly to herself, a tune she’d heard being played on a honky-tonk piano long ago. She stopped rolling the pastry and looked out of the window over the meagre garden. Her mind wandered back to happier times – dancing in Donald’s strong arms.

He’s a good, loving husband and they had been so happy. When Rose became pregnant they were thrilled but Donny was let go from his job as were so many men. They struggled for a year, often going days without food so that little Travis could eat.

Donald watched his pretty wife grow thin and careworn and finally – in desperation – Donny joined three other fellows to rob a Bank. One of the robbers was shot dead on the spot, Donny and the other fellow ran and managed to stash the money. Later Donny was recognised and gave himself up without a fight - he went to jail.

“Oh Donny. Its just days before you come home. Your son will have a father once more and I’ll have someone to lean on now and then.” She thought turning back to the pastry.

“Mumma! Mumma there’s a man coming up the path”. Travis, her 10year old ran into the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a soft knock on the door. Rose’s heart jumped – surely it couldn’t be……..

It wasn’t Donny, of course, it was a stranger, nicely dressed, prosperous looking against the backdrop of the run-down street. Wiping her floury hands on her apron she walked to the door already ajar. “Yes.” She smiled at him. “Can I help you.”

The man looked at her standing there, her hand resting lightlyon Travis’ shoulder, he had kind eyes but weary – beaten-down looking.

“Yes, I’m Rose.” She watched the stranger reach into his jacket and pull out a handful of bills and something small and shiny.

“Your husband told me to give you these ---- before he died.” Around her the world seemed to stop as Rose took in the dreadful news. The man became a blur as her eyes fill with tears. She instinctively pulled Travis to her.

The man started to apologise - saying how he’d spent some of the money and he held it out to her, the shiny thing she now saw was a small crucifix. As the tears spilled down her cheeks she accepted the money and the cross, Travis looking up, puzzled to se his mother’s tears.

“I could mebbe make it up to you – fix up the place a bit….”His voice trailed off as she sobbed quietly. When she didn’t reply he turned to leave and she blinked back the tears.

“Wait.” She called after him. “Please.” The man stopped and turned back. “Come in, you look tired. I’ll give you some food.” She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron as the three of them walked into the little house.

“Could you tell me how he died?” Rose said querulously pulling out a chair from the table for the stranger. “He was due for release a few days ago and should have been here by now.” The tears started again and Travis took his mother’s hand.

The stranger sat down wearily and leaned heavily on the table. “I should introduce my self before I go any further. My name is Walter and I didn’t know your husband at all. I came across him by accident. He was very weak, I held him and he told me about you and your kid, here.”

Rose swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill out once more and sat across from Walter, Travis leaning against her. She slipped a protective arm around the boy and looked into Walter’s eyes.

 

[Graybread]

Walter

“I guess maybe he died of pneumonia or something like that,” Walter began. “I found him be the railroad tracks, so I figure he must have been on his way here.”

Walter looked around the shabby little kitchen, thinking it could use a good paint job. He was trying to avoid what her husband had really told him, he just didn’t feel comfortable saying it.

“He said to buy some pretty clothes with the money,” he said glancing at her worn and thread bare dress, avoiding her eyes. “And he said to tell the boy he was proud of him.”

Walter felt compelled to rise a leave, he done what he’d been asked, he’d given her the money, why couldn’t he say the words.

“Ma’am,” he stammered, “could I have a glass of water please?”

“Of course,” Rose answered, standing and going to the sink, pumping the handle on the small pump next to it. “We don’t have plumbing yet, like some of the richer folks. Would you like coffee?”

“Yes,” Walter replied, “some coffee would be fine.”

“Travis, run a fetch some wood for the stove,” she said sitting the glass of water in front of Walter. “He’s a nice boy, but he has to work so hard,” she added watching him run out the back door.

She filled the coffee pot with water, then went to the cabinet and took the coffee canister off the shelf, spooning the grounds into the old battered pot. Travis came in the door carrying an arm full of split wood and dropped it in the wood box.

“You split that yourself,” Walter asks the ten year old boy.

“Some times,” the boy said shyly.

“We have a man that brings the wood around, sometimes he splits it, but most the time he just brings logs,” Rose replied over her shoulder. “He charges more to split it.”

“How…how do you pay for it,” Walter asked curious. “How do you pay for anything?”

“Oh, I take in laundry for folks and I bake bread and pies for others. We get by,” she said as if poverty where the natural state of affairs. “Donny’s money will help some. I’d rather have Donny….”

Walter heard the soft sob in her voice as she spoke of her husband.

“I wish he hadn’t robbed a bank though, people will know if I start spending a lot of money.”

Walter looked at the back of the woman. She seemed weary and heavy laden. She had waited for ten long years for her husband that she loved, only to be disappointed, to be heartbroken. He glanced at Travis, the union of that love. His eyes fell on the money laying on the table, the glint of the gold cross caught his eye.

“Ma’am,” he started, “I’d like to stay and help you….I could chop wood, maybe paint the kitchen.”

The words didn’t seem to come from his mind, but he had spoken them. He had only thought of dropping the money off for her, then getting back on the road. His eyes still on the small cross.

“I could stay in a shed out back….we could tell people I am your cousin, or maybe your husbands brother,….or….or something.”

He wondered why he felt this compulsion to help her, she meant nothing to him. She was just another woman struggling with the hardships of life, just like he was. But if she said “yes,” he would stay. He shook himself, tearing his eyes from the cross. He had made the commitment now, and couldn’t back out, if anything he was basically on honest man. It was only the times that made people do things they would not normally do, like Donny robbing the bank.

She turned looking at him,………..

 

[Guest]

Rose

Rose turned slowly to look at the stranger sitting at her table. She breathed in deeply. Her thoughts seemed to travel faster than normal - back over the last few minutes.

She thought of Walter’s shaky admission to taking some of the money entrusted to him by Don, to his gentle interaction with Travis, not talking down, no patronizing of either of them. She liked that, she liked him, she didn’t easily warm to people but there was something genuine about this man.

“Well.” She said slowly. “Like you said, this place could use some a lick of paint. I can’t pay you wages.” She added quickly. “ But we’ll share our food with you and you can sleep under the roof in the attic.” She was leaning back against the counter, her hands deep in the pockets of her apron and she suddenly realised she was smiling.

Walter still sat at the table, his fingers playing with the gold chain of the cross in front of him and Travis stood by him gazing at his mother. Embarrassed at, what she felt might be considered her unseemly, display, she turned away to pour the coffee.

She carried two tin mugs to the table and took a seat. “Travis, honey.” She looked up at her lanky son standing beside Walter. “Go see if the hens laid today, please. Take the blue bowl with you.”

Once Travis had left, a little reluctantly, Rose looked into Walter’s eyes. “I appreciate you want to help, mister. I just wonder why, when I can’t pay you any.”

Walter understood immediately. ‘’Oh, no, Ma’am. I won’t expect any more ‘n a meal a day and a pallet on the floor some where. Even that shed out there.” Rose tried to hide her relief.

“No! I won’t hear of you sleeping in the vermin ridden shack. There’s room in the attic for a bed and a chair.” Rose took a gulp of coffee then said. “So! It’s a deal then. I’ll feed and board you for the work you do around the place? No more ‘n that?”

Walter held out a gnarled hand. “It’s a deal.” .

Rose gently took the cross and chain from Walter’s other hand and looked at it in the palm of her chapped hand. “Don gave this to me when we got engaged. Couldn’t afford no ring. This was just as good.” And she lowered her head to kiss it so that the tears in her eyes didn’t show.

That night, after Rose finished the baking, they had a meal of eggs and fried pork with Rose’s corn bread and lots of coffee. Walter ate until he was full and laughed delightedly when Rose produced a fresh apple pie. “I thought those were to be sold.” He grinned up at her.

“This is a special occasion.” She said as she cut him a generous slice. Travis ate his portion in silence looking from one to the other solemnly as they chatted.

“I have some laundry to iron.” Said Rose once the dishes were washed and stacked. “I’m sorry we don’t have no radio or nothing, Walter.” Rose apologized as she stood the flat irons to heat at the fire.

“Ya got any playing cards?” Walter asked winking at Travis.

“I believe Donny has………” Rose stiffened “…..Had some. I’ll look them out.” And she disappeared up the narrow stairs.

She returned seconds later with a tattered box containing playing cards and handed them to Walter. She returned to her chores but kept one eye on the two as Walter shuffled the well-used cards.

“Know any card games, Travis?” He asked.

“No, sir.”

“Well, I’ll teach you “Go Fish then.” And he dealt out the cards smiling at Rose when he caught her looking.
__________________

 

[Graybread]

Walter

Travis and Walter played three games of ‘go fish’, funny thing was that Travis won them all three. He reached over and ruffled the boy’s hair, laughing as he conceded the last game to him.

“You must be the best card player in all of Louisiana,” he laughed, then looked up at Rose doing her chore. “I think it’s time to get some rest though, it’s been a long day. If ya got some blankets I’d go up and make up my bed,” he said to Rose.

“Of course,” she replied, sitting her iron down and going up the stairs, “follow me.”

Walter followed Rose up the stairs, saying goodnight to Travis as he went. Rose took some old blankets out of the closet and handed them to him.

“Thanks,” he said taking them.

He started up the narrow steps to the attic, looking back at her. She was still watching him climb the stairs. He smiled down at her.

“Night,” he said as he opened the door to the attic.

The attic was hot, but not anything hotter than he had slept in before. Boxcars tended to get hot also. He laid the blankets out on the floor to give some padding, he wouldn’t need to cover himself in this heat. He sat on the pallet, slipping his shoes and shirt off and laid back.

This wasn’t what he had expected things to come too. He had done what ‘Donny’ as he called the dead husband now, had asked him to. Well nearly everything, he still couldn’t bring himself to say the most important words he’d been ask to relay. He wondered why that was, they were just words after all. And he still wasn’t sure why he’d offered to stay, he’d only spent a couple hundred dollars. He lay there with his hands behind his head, the picture of ‘Donny’s’ dead face in his mind. He knew nothing about ‘Donny’, but he was getting to know the wife and son. He could feel the love that Rose had felt for her husband, and he knew that ‘Donny’ had felt the same way. He rolled over on his side wondering what that felt like. He’d never met a woman that made him feel that way, or one that he had any real affection for. Rose was a handsome woman, for sure, and had waited for ten years for her husband. He smiled at the thought of her devotion. Well it didn’t matter now, he was dead and Rose needed to go on with her life, as poor as that might be.

He decided he could afford to stay and paint the kitchen, then he’d be on his way. He wondered if there might be a way to get his hands on some of the remaining money. He wouldn’t take it all, he’d leave some for her and Travis. The image of the small cross filled his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

Rose calling up the stairs the next morning brought him out of his sleep.

“Breakfast,” she called.

He rose, slipping on his shirt and shoes, descending the stairs. He could use a shave and a change of clothes, he thought as the smell of breakfast filled his nostrils.

“Good morning,” he said to Rose and Travis as he entered the kitchen.

 

[Guest]

Rose

Rose wiped the perspiration from her forehead with her wrist, she glanced up from the ironing now and then to watch her boy absorbed in the card game. Walter had a way with him, to be sure, she smiled to herself.

When he stood saying he was weary she dropped all she was doing to get his bedding for him. She apologized for the humble room but he seemed too tired to care and she stood at the foot of the steep attic stairs watching him climb wearily up. At the top he turned and smiled down at her “He’s got a good heart”. Rose thought, “I think we’ll be okay.”

Back downstairs she told Travis to get washed up and get to bed. “School in the morning, Honey.” She said kissing the top of his tawny head. He pulled a face but did as he was told.

Rose finished the ironing in the quiet of the house; the only sound the hiss and clunk of the flat iron as she pressed the last of the dampened shirts. She let her thoughts wander over the past few hours, had she done the right thing. The neighbours would wag their tongues for sure. So what, let them. They already shunned her because of Donny being in jail. She had one or two friends who cared, but mostly people only talked to her to tell her how much starch to use iin the collars.

She packed away the irons and board and stacked the piles of freshly iron items neatly on the table to be delivered the next day. She went to the pump and washed her face, brushed her teeth with some baking soda and sat wearily at the table. Her hand touched the chain and cross and she picked it up. She noticed for the first time that the chain had snapped where one of the delicate links had broken. Had Donny stolen this too, she wondered.

Sighing she let the chain and cross fall back to the table in a small shiny heap, maybe she could fix it tomorrow. Now she was bone tired. She stoked the fire for the night and set the table for three ready for the morning then she blew out the lamp. By the glow from the fire she walked to the bottom of the stairs. Looking up she thought for a moment about the stranger she had brought into the house then she climbed up slowly to bed.

~~~~~~~

Both she and Travis were up before light and Travis did his chores before breakfast without being asked. Rose threw open the windows as the bird’s dawn chorus began, put on the coffee pot and started the oatmeal cooking. Once Travis was done and washed up, his hair slicked down and books strapped ready for school, Rose called up the stairs.

She heard Walter moving around and soon he was coming down still buttoning his shirt. She smiled to herself; he must be hungry, she thought as she stirred the creamy oatmeal.

“Good morning.” He said cheerfully. “Coffee sure smells good upstairs – even better down here.”

“Sit.” Said Rose as she poured two mugs of coffee. “Hope you like oatmeal. We don’t have sugar but we put a dab of butter and a sprinkle of salt – try it.” And she set a steaming bowl in front of Walter and one for Travis.

The butter and a little salt really did make the porridge taste good and Travis polished his off before the adults. He gulped down his milk and grabbed an apple and a chunk of bread and dripping wrapped in greaseproof paper for his lunch. “See ya.” He said, kissing his mother’s offered cheek and grinning at Walter, and then he was gone..

Rose sighed. “He’s growing up so fast.” She said softly. “He never really had a chance to be a kid. Always ‘the man of the house’ “

“These are hard times for us all.” Said Walter as he poured more coffee for them both. He looked over at the neat bundles of ironing, each customer’s tied with twine. “You sure have to work hard.” Rose smiled.

“I make do.” She said shyly, not meeting his eyes. Then she stood. “I better get out and deliver those.” She said nodding at the laundry. “It’ll be three trips, at least.”

“Can I help?” Asked Walter.

“Better lie low 'til folks get used to seeing you around.” She grinned, “You know how they are? I’ll put it about that you’re my cousin. Is that all right?” She smoothed her faded dress and touched her hair. “I’ll be off then. You just make yourself at home.”

 

[Graybread]

Walter

“Make yourself at home,” he whispered to himself, repeating her word, as he watched her walk out the door.

He picked his mug up and walked to the door, watching Rose tote the bundle of ironing down the street. He still didn’t know what processed him to come all the way down to Louisiana and give her the money in the first place. He should have just enjoyed it while it lasted. Well he could do that now, he thought as he looked at the stack of money still lying on the table where Rose had left it the night before.

What could she do, tell the police? he didn’t think so. What was she going to tell them, that a stranger gave her the money that her dead husband had stolen from a bank. He scooped the stack of money up with the full intentions of stuffing it into his pocket, but his eye caught the glint of the gold cross dangling from the broken chain. He shook his head in bewilderment as he laid the money back down, and picked his coffee mug up. He sat there for a long time, just drinking his coffee before taking a twenty-dollar bill off the stack and putting it in his pocket.

He sighed as he walked out the front door in search of the hardware store and a bucket of white paint to coat the dingy kitchen walls with. By the time he got back with the paint he noticed that Rose had been back also, and had taken the next load of ironing out to be delivered. He laid the change from the paint purchase next to the stack of money, then opened the can and began to apply the fresh white paint to the wall. He was almost done with one wall when he heard Rose enter the house.

“Oh my,” she said looking at the wall. “Isn’t that going to be nice.”

“Ah…yeah,” Walter said smiling at her. “I thought white would be a good color to brighten the room. I should be done before supper,” he added.

“Well maybe I’ll have to get something special for supper then,” she replied shyly, glancing at the money still lying on the table. “And maybe some sugar for the oatmeal. I know Travis would like that.”

“And your dead husband said……,” Walter paused at the faux pas he had just made. “I mean Donny….he…he said that you should get some nice clothes too.”

Walter wanted to bite his tongue, to suck the words back into his mouth, but it was too late, he had spoken them and they where out.

“I’m sorry,” he said lowering his eyes, “I didn’t mean to remind you of…..”

“And maybe something nice for Travis too,” she whispered, the words catching in her throat as she tried to ignore his words. “Donny would like that too.”

Walter turned back to the wall and began to paint again as he listened to Rose move about the room, picking up the last bundle of ironing to be delivered.

“Do you like beef,” she asked quietly, talking to Walters back. “Maybe a nice pot roast or something.”

“A pot roast would be fine,” Walter said without looking at her.

He heard the door shut as she left the house to make her last delivery.

 

[Guest]

Rose

Rose carried the bundles of clean and pressed laundry breathing in the fresh air and the sweet smell of her labour. It gave her pleasure to hand over the neatly folded items to the owners knowing she had done a good job - but the coins they handed over, sometimes grudgingly, were even more pleasing.

The last bundle of the load was Mrs Grimes’ at the hardware store who insisted on checking out each item all the while grilling Rose about her visitor.

“He’s a cousin. “ She lied, her fingers crossed in her pocket. “He’s just going to be staying long enough to do some repairs around my place.”

“Really?” The nosy woman peered over her spectacles at Rose. “ Mebbe he’d come and help my Cyril with the leak in our roof.”

“I’ll certainly mention it to him, Mrs Grimes.” Rose said politely, pocketing her pay. Try as she might, Mrs Grimes could find no fault in Rose’s work. Rose grinned to herself as she headed back for the next delivery.

Walter was nowhere to be seen when Rose opened the door and her heart sank. His empty coffee mug sat on the kitchen table, then she saw the stack of bills he’d handed her the night before. As far as she could see it hadn’t been touched. She sighed and brushed some loose strands of hair from her face, she’d taken a chance trusting him all right but – he could have taken the lot and bolted but the money was still there.

She gathered up the second load and set off to get her wages. This load took her further afield and she was quite tired when she finally got home. The clean smell of fresh paint drifted out from inside and she heard Walter whistling as he worked. For a brief moment Rose had a pang of grief, thinking that it should be Donny in there whistling like he had no care but she pushed it aside and stepped into the kitchen.

“Oh my! It is going to look nice.” She said admiring the way it brightened the room. When Walter told her he would be done by dinnertime she looked at the pile of worn bills on the table and smiled at him. “Maybe we’ll have something special tonight. And I’ll get some sugar too”

Walter shifted back to his painting and said.” Your dead husband….” His voice faltered and he turned back to her. “I – I - I mean, Donny. He said for you to get something nice to wear.”
As she turned away Walter apologized, flustered at his gaffe.

“ …and maybe something nice for Travis. Donny would like that.” Whispered Rose, her words catching on the lump in her throat.

Walter started work again and listened as Rose moved about the kitchen. She gathered up the last bundle and made for the door; with her hand on the doorknob she looked at Walter’s broad back as he painted the grimy wall. “Do you like beef? I could make a pot roast or something.”

“A pot roast would be fine.” Walter said to the wall and he heard her close the door as she set off with her last delivery.

As she walked, slowly now because she was weary, she thought back to Walter’s demeanour as he talked about Donny. What, she wondered, had passed between them. Perhaps she’d never know but at least Walter had brought her news of him, something she might never have gotten otherwise.

She had seen the loose change Walter put on the table, realising he had taken a note to pay for the paint. A small smile crept across her care-worn face; He’s an honest man she thought. Kind and honest. The church clock struck the hour and she quickened her pace, Mr Paulsen, the butcher would be open now, she could pay what she owed and have the pickoff the best pieces of beef if she hurried.

She was looking forward to seeing the two men in her life tuck in to her pot roast. Rose stopped in her tracks and almost dropped the laundry bundle. “Oh Donny, forgive me. You’re still the man in my life and always will be.” She looked skyward as if she might see her dead husband gazing down but all she saw was the spring sky full of freshly laundered clouds

 

[Graybread]

Walter

Dead husband, Walter thought to himself. Why did I say that? She probably thinks of him every time she looks at me anyway. Maybe I should just leave. his thinking continued as he dipped the brush in the paint and applied it to the wall.

His temptation to leave was strong, he had after all done what ‘Donny’ had asked him too, well nearly everything. He wondered why he couldn’t say it, it was just a few simple words, “Give my Love to Rose,” was all he had to say. But it wasn’t that simple, how do you say that. It’s not really something one could say, it was more something someone did. His heart sagged at the thought.

“It’s not me,” he said to himself, “it’s not me. I can’t, please don’t asked me too.”

He dipped the brush again furiously applying the paint to the wall. He had two walls done and the third started by the time Rose returned.

“It looks pretty good,” he beamed at her, proud of his own work. “It really brightens up the kitchen huh.”

“It surely does,” she smiled back at him, setting her packages on the table.

“Say, maybe Travis could help me tomorrow? I could pick up another brush. He could help me after school and when he gets his chores does. I mean if that’s alright with you, I don’t want to work the poor lad to death.”

Damn, why did I have to go and say that.

“I’m sorry….I didn’t mean anything, I just……maybe I should clean up for the night. I’ll get out of your way while you make supper. I’ll fetch some firewood too,” he said as he slipped out the back door.

He had found an old can and poured some kerosene in it to clean the brush. He let the brush sit and soak for a minute while he cleaned the paint off his hands with an old rag. Then he carried in an armload of firewood for Rose.

She was standing at the sink, pumping the handle on the water pump to wash the roast off and filled the pot. He dropped the wood in the firebox, then walked over and took the pump handle in his hand, starting to pump it for her, his hand unintentionally touching hers. A wave of pleasure, of knowing washed through him. A feeling as if he had known her from some other time swept through him. He gasped at the sensation and drew his hand back quickly. She turned and looked at him.

“You can pump it if you’d like,” she said, removing her hand from the handle, “I can always use an extra hand around the kitchen. Donny used to pump the water for me all the time.”

She hadn’t felt it. he thought. She didn’t notice.

He reached back up and pumped the handle for her, the clean clear water flowing from the spigot. He looked down at her profile, her tender loving face.

JUST SAY IT MAN, the voice screamed in his head.

“Rose……I, ah…..I ah, I just want to thank you for letting me stay. I really like you, I mean I like you and Travis both. Say that sure looks like a nice roast.” He stammered.

 

[Guest]

Rose

Rose was aware of Walter’s stumbling blunders and it touched her that he was so flustered by them. She had spent so much time without Donny at her side it hadn’t been so difficult to accept he would not return.

She still mourned him, still felt the hollow sensation whenever she thought of him. At first Walter’s presence had been a constant reminder but now he seemed to belong with them as he slapped the paintbrush and whistled tunelessly.

Rose set about preparing the beef for her pot roast. She was looking forward to watching the two men – because she did think of Travis as a man now – tuck in to her fine cooking. Walter finished his painting for the day and went to clean his brushes. She could hear him outside, whistling, and she smiled.

He came back in with a load of wood and dropped it into the firebox. Rose was humming softly to herself, pumping the old pump handle when she felt Walter standing behind her. He reached round her and took the handle to pump it for her when their hands touched. Walter gasped and drew back so sharply that Rose turned to look into his face.

“It’s alright. You can pump if you like. My arms are weary and I could use another pair of hands in the kitchen.” Her voice grew wistful and distant. “Donny used to pump that old handle for me.” She said softly.

Walter started the water flowing and she went about her preparations. She could feel Walter’s eyes on her and blushed a little. Walter gave a little cough and she could feel he was trying to say something.

He suddenly blurted out. “Rose – I - uh – I want to thank you for letting me stay here I really like you – and Travis too.” He said in a rush, then “Say – that’s some nice roast there.”

Rose smiled at his discomfort, such a dear, shy man. She lowered the meat into the pan and turned to him. She suddenly had a flash of Donny standing there, one hand still resting on the pump handle.

It was so clear it almost took her breath away. She blinked her eyes and focused on Walter. She was relieved to see he was still shyly avoiding her eyes and hadn’t noticed.

Walter moved to the table, pulled out a chair and sat to watch Rose move around the kitchen. They heard Travis’ boots clatter on the porch outside and he burst in the door.

“Boots off, honey.” Rose reminded the boy but he was already untying the laces.

“Hello sir.” He smiled at Walter; relieved to see he was still there. “Sure smells good, Mum.” He leaned over the fire, inhaling dramatically.

“Shoo.” Laughed Rose.” Go sit with Walter, show him your school work.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The meal was, indeed, very good. Rose had included potatoes and other vegetables from the root cellar. The gravy was rich and thick and she even found some preserved horseradish at the back of the larder.

Walter pushed his chair back and made to loosen his belt but remembered where he was and stopped. “Go ahead Walter.” Rose smiled. “You’re home, feel free.”

Both Walter and Travis made a show of loosening their belts and all three laughed.

“That was the best roast I’ve ever had, Rose.” Walter said placing his hand over hers without thinking.

 

[Graybread]

Walter

“That was the best roast I’ve ever had, Rose.” Walter said placing his hand over hers without thinking.

Again the touch was shocking and what she said, “You’re home, feel free.” Why did he feel like he was home.

That feeling was becoming more and more real, and it was making him more and more uncomfortable.

I should just get out now. Just grab the money and go…before it’s too late. Too late….too late for what?

He needed a distraction, something to get his mind off the money.

“So, how about a game of cards little man,” he said looking over at Travis.

“Little man,” Rose said staring at him. “That’s what….what his father used to call him when he was just a baby. How did you know?”

“I don’t know, it just slipped out. I didn’t mean anything by it. Here let me help you clean the dishes,” he said standing and starting to clear the table, trying to distract her.

JUST SAY IT! his inner voice screamed at him.

He and Rose did the dishes while Travis did his homework. When they had finished Walter asked what he could do tomorrow. The kitchen had been painted a nice fresh coat of white.

“Maybe I could paint the living room,” he suggested, hoping this would be a way to access the money once again.

 

[Guest]

[OOC just resubscribing]

 

[Guest]

Rose

Walter’s hand over hers felt so good, so natural that Rose’s initial reaction was to take hold of it but Walter drew it away quickly. Rose sighed and smiled to herself for being foolish.

Walter turned to Travis, who was watching the two of them carefully, and suggested a game of cards after his homework. He called Travis “little man” just like his Dad had and the boy felt a jolt of recognition but Rose said as much, spoiling the secret feeling for him.

Travis sat at the cleared table, supposedly doing his homework but instead he watched as the two adults stood, side-by-side at the low stone sink to wash the dishes. He wanted his mother to smile and sing like she used to when his father was home. With Walter around she almost seemed like her old self.

“Maybe I could paint the parlour.” Walter said as he hung up the towel and sat at the table. “What colour do you think, Rose?”

Rose walked to the two at the table and pulled out a chair.

“I’ll let you decide, Walter, if you’re sure you can spare the time.” She sat down and ruffled Travis’ hair.

“Finished your studyin’ Trav? How about that game?”

They played several games until Rose had to tell her son to “git”.

“School in the morning, and you have chores first, honey.”

Travis reluctantly left them for bed and Walter and Rose sat across from one another at the scrubbed wooden table. Rose placed her folded hands on the table in front of her.

“Walter, mind if I ask you a personal question?” she said shyly.

“Shoot.” Said Walter, a feeling of wariness creeping in to the relaxation he had been feeling.

“Are you – I mean – have you ever…..” she tossed her head, impatient with herself. “Heck, Walter. Are you married?”
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