Rose Kirkland recently lost the man she most admired. She isn't ready for her life to change, but she begins to realize that her life is a series of other people's lies and interferences.
Cole Fuller needs a break. And his great-uncle's will has g...
"Okay, dear," Grandma Kirkland replied and bowed her head. As if she'd given a command, forks laid down, napkins appeared by half-eaten plates of food, and heads lowered. Cole followed suit, a heartfelt lump lodged in his throat. Rose's father intoned a thoughtful blessing, and the family echoed "Amen."
Cole saw that Rose shook, her fingers clasped tightly in her lap. He gently reached over and folded his hand over hers. She inhaled deeply, gave him a weak smile and withdrew from his touch. Then the humming started. Mary Alice stared off at an angle, humming to herself. It disoriented Cole for a moment. Not so much the actual humming, or the fact that no one else seemed perplexed, but the tune was familiar to him. He'd heard it before...a few times over the last weekend. From Rose. From her piano. He'd heard her play that same melody on her piano, incorporating it within songs and other melodies. He had assumed it was one of her favorite refrains, and now he heard it differently. If no one in this family found the situation odd, then everyone was already familiar with it. Which meant, Rose must have been in similar circumstances often.
Rose gathered her dinner plate and stood up. "Please, excuse me. I need to check on the kittens," she said and dumped everything in a nearby trash can. She wiped her hands on a spare napkin and headed inside. Cole wondered how it would look if he followed her again. He'd done it once already this afternoon. This family would think there was something more between them, and Rose specifically said she didn't want that assumption passed around.
Yet...going after Rose was better than sitting there in awkwardness.
He prepared to slip away from the table as quietly as he could, but Mary Alice Kirkland turned her eyes to him and asked, "Professor Shaw? Leaving so soon? But you just got here."
And since the rest of the Kirkland family eyed them curiously, he dropped back into his seat. "Of course not, Mary Alice. What were we talking about?"
"You were arguing with me that marriage is not a reason to leave school," she said in a defiant tone. Cole had to smile at her. Mary Alice and Rose shared so few physical characteristics, but he plainly saw a resemblance at that moment. It was that sweet sassiness. He settled in for this new experience.
"Well, Mary Alice," he began, "I am willing to listen to your side of the argument."
Her hands, gnarled from arthritis, rested on either side of her plate, and her eyes—not colored with the Kirkland green, but startling all the same—narrowed at him. For the next hour, he held an interesting conversation with Rose's grandmother, during the rest of the meal and afterward. Violet sat with them, never saying anything, merely watching. Occasionally, Mrs. Kirkland veered from the topic, moving to and fro in time, but as soon as she looked at him, they were Professor Shaw and Mary Alice again. In that time, he learned a lot about her, enough to admire her greatly. Rose's grandmother had simple opinions, but they were strong in morals and compassion. She was also relentless when her mind was decided.
Cole noticed that the rest of the family gave him approving looks during their conversation. And when Rose's dad announced he needed to take Mary Alice back to her home, Cole received a warm handshake from the man. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Fuller," Justin Kirkland told him without any of the previous resentment. Cole replied in kind, and Rose emerged from the house in time to witness the act.
With hope, Cole wondered if gaining some appreciation from her father, Rose might become more affable toward him.
Then again...a father's approval sometimes had the opposite effect.
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