Page 23 of A Late-Blooming Rose
The rain that had pounded on them for the last few days, delaying the digging on the library basement, finally let up to cool late-morning sunshine. He’d hoped to have much more accomplished to show Rose.At least my guests aren’t arriving in the middle of a downpour.
He glanced toward the train depot, the brown paint and yellow trim of the building refreshed for the Harvest Festival. He’d already arranged for the stationmaster to watch over the Colliers’ luggage. Once Sam drove them home, he’d return with the coach and join Pepe Sanchez with the livery stable wagon. The two men would load the luggage into the wagon and coach and haul everything home. Andre planned to store Marty’s collection of books in his attic until shelves could be built in the library.
He pulled out his watch from his vest pocket to compare the time to the big clock—a recent addition—hanging on the wall under the depot’s overhang. The train would be here soon. Though neither device told him what he really wanted to know—what he’d feel when seeing Rose again. He closed the case and stowed the watch back in his pocket, wishing he could do the same with his feelings.
Perhaps Rose is changed—grown haggard, fat, wrinkled, missing teeth, with thinning gray hair. She’ll be critical, querulous, or vapid and silly.
Perhaps I’ll see her and no longer be under her spell.
No,spellisn’t the right word. Isadora briefly enthralled me, until I saw through her illusions to her true self. Rose had no such shallow allure. I felt real love for her.
Deep down, he suspected Rose’s personality wouldn’t have altered much. As for her appearance, he also suspected those physical changes wouldn’t matter. She’d still be his Rose. Hefearedshe’d still be his Rose.
Andre’s chest tightened, a reminder of his mortality, and he clenched a fist to keep from placing a hand over his heart. The last thing he needed was Delia fussing over him. Rose would think him practically an aged invalid. He relaxed his hand and lowered his arm.
With a hiss of brakes and a billow of steam and smoke, the train pulled into the station. No sooner had the train come to a stop when the door of the baggage car rolled open and porters descended, carrying various boxes, crates, and trunks, piling them on the platform.
The short stationmaster Jack Waite bustled from the depot, his bushy white hair waving in the breeze. He cast Andre a wink and a grin as he rushed by as quickly as his bandy legs could take him. He reached the porters and began directing them, gnarled hands pointing commands.
Aside from a short glance at the unloading, Andre kept his gaze on the passenger cars, unsure of which one held Rose and Cora, his heart tapping a rhythm like a drumbeat.
Cora appeared first, trotting down the steps, her feet stuttering when she reached the platform, before she righted herself. Smiling, she gave them a big wave and turned to Rose, following behind.
Andre could no longer make out the two of them as sudden mist blurred his vision, and his collar suddenly seemed too tight around his neck. Without time to pull out his handkerchief, he quickly swiped an arm across his eyes, hoping no one noticed. Still, he had to breathe and blink again before he could see the women, clearly heading in his direction, both carrying leather satchels, the strings of their reticules pushed to the elbows of their arms.
Two steps behind Cora, Rose moved stiffly as if tired or sore, a contrast to Cora’s buoyant steps.Or maybe she’s reluctant.
Although she pointedly avoided his eyes, Andre hungrily watched Rose, noting how she’d barely changed. He saw some lines around her eyes and mouth, and gray threads in the brown hair fringed across her forehead and pulled back under her plain, dark hat. She’d remained thin, although with perhaps a few more pounds giving shape to her slender figure. From behind her spectacles, the same intelligent gray eyes surveyed her surroundings. Her gray duster appeared somewhat wrinkled and smudged.
Delia surged forward, hands outstretched. “Miss Collier and Miss Cora, welcome.” She gave both of them a hand.
After greeting Delia, Cora dropped her satchel and bounced over to give Andre an exuberant hug. “I can’t believe we’re finally here! Oh, thank you for inviting us!”
He couldn’t help but grin, and then shifted back and held Cora’s shoulders, the better to examine her face. “I’m happy you’re here, too. Look at you, all grown up and beautiful.”So like the young Rose I remember.“The men in this town will be knocking down my door.” He kissed her cheek and lowered his voice, speaking in her ear. “I’m glad you persuaded your aunt to travel with you.”
“Grandpapa said Aunt Rose is the most amiable of women, but she has a stubborn streak that makes her worse than a mule. I’m just the same way, so I know how to get around her.” With an unladylike smirk, Cora pivoted to face her aunt.
Delia concluded her welcome to Rose and also turned toward him, an expectant look on her face.
Andre knew he couldn’t hide the warmth he felt for Rose. For now, he didn’t care. Later, he’d keep more emotional distance.
A pause ensued, but finally good manners demanded Rose meet his eyes. “Mr. Bellaire,” she greeted him with a prim smile and clipped tones. She half-way raised her hand, seemed to think better of the gesture, and lowered her arm. She slid her gaze away from his face.
Everyone seemed to hold their breath, waiting to see if Rose would further acknowledge his presence.
Andre had to resist pulling at his collar to relieve the pressure on his throat that threatened choke off his speech. He captured her gloved hand and took a quick breath. “My dear Rose, I’m so glad you and Cora have arrived safely. Please know you are welcome.” Further words froze in his throat. Looking down at her, all he could think over and over were two things:She’s still as beautiful. I love her just as much as I ever did.
For a moment, he caught a hint of vulnerability, quickly veiled, in her eyes. A stray tendril of hair blew across her face. As he’d done many times in the past, Andre longed to tuck the tress back into place and drop a kiss on her soft cheek.I no longer have that right.A swift ache of sadness followed the thought.
Rose raised her chin. “We’ve brought ten crates of books.” She glanced behind her at the train, where the porters unloaded the baggage car. “Four boxes of household possessions and our three trunks. I hope you’ll take the books, and we’ll be able to fit everything else in our lodgings.”
Andre cleared his throat. “About those lodgings…. People rented them for the Harvest Festival and have not yet vacated the premises. So, you’ll have to stay with us for the time being. Your baggage will be safe here until my coachman can haul everything home.”
Rose frowned. “There must be a hotel.”
“Far too expensive for more than a couple days.” Andre tilted his head toward the coach. “Come, ladies.” Although he wanted to extend an arm to Rose, with three ladies, he couldn’t favor just one or two, so he bowed slightly and waved an arm toward the steps. Before he could move toward their satchels, his guests picked up their own.
“Allow me,” he said, reaching to take both leather bags.
