The Secrets of Rosa Lee (30 page)

S
idney and the others had been through every inch of the house. Her nerves were on edge. A thick fog blanketed the town and seemed to seep through the walls of the old place. The wind howled outside telling them to go away.

To make matters worse, they found nothing. Not one rose had been carved into the woodwork.

Sloan returned and told of finding Micah's car at the bar out near Cemetery Road. Once the sheriff had gotten there, they'd organized a search, knowing that without a car Micah could not have gone far.

He said it had taken them half an hour, but Randi had found him. Micah had taken a fall on the ice and Randi had driven him to the hospital to have his knee checked.

Sloan had brought two lanterns big enough to light up a whole room while he talked. Then with all questions answered about Micah, Lora and he went up to the attic to do a final search. They returned shortly with no news.

A few minutes later, Micah arrived on crutches and with a woman in blue jeans at his side. He introduced the woman as Randi Howard. Sidney was so glad to see Micah safe, she hugged him and the redhead who'd found him on the road. The Rogers sisters knew the woman and greeted her warmly. The committee seemed to be growing.

Billy and Micah compared injuries, then everyone re
sumed the search. Sidney could hear Micah filling Randi in on details. “Rosa Lee left a line in a book for us to look beneath a wooden rose.”

“For you?” Randi asked.

Sidney interrupted. “No. For me, I think. I may be the granddaughter of Rosa Lee. We seem to have lots of clues pointing to it, but nothing solid. She baptized a baby here in Clifton Creek two weeks before my mother's birth was recorded in Chicago. My grandmother was her nurse and was with her at the baptism.”

Randi raised an eyebrow. “Couldn't they both have been pregnant?”

“They could have, only my grandmother never had other children and she named my mother Marbree Lee. The name of a rose, and Rosa Lee's middle name.”

Randi nodded, but didn't look like she fully believed. Then, she faced Sidney and smiled. “My great-grandfather used to say he knew Henry and Rosa Lee. He told me once that she had light blue eyes. Would that help?”

“That's what Sam said at work,” Billy yelled from the next room. “He met her when he was a kid. He called them ghost eyes.”

Everyone looked at Sidney.

Ada May pushed Lora aside and stood almost nose to nose with Sidney. “Yep. Light blue eyes if I've ever seen them.”

“Only one more clue,” Sidney whispered.

“When is one more going to be enough?” Sloan asked. “We've got the copy of the baptism of a child Rosa Lee had in thirty-four.”

“But no name was on it,” Sidney protested.

“The note from your grandmother saying never forget the secrets of Rosa Lee. What else could it be but that Rosa
Lee gave your mother up to your grandmother Minnie to raise?”

Sidney shook her head. “Minnie could have been talking about Henry's death. Maybe the secret is that he didn't die in 1950?”

“Minnie wasn't in Clifton Creek at that time. She was here when your mother was born. The secret must have happened in 1934.” Sloan tried again.

Sidney shook her head. “My mother's birth certificate says she was born in Chicago, not Clifton Creek.”

Sloan kept trying. “Minnie named your mother after a rose that Rosa Lee planted all over these grounds so Rosa Lee must have known about your mother and later you.”

“Maybe they both loved the same rose. Maybe it was one they discovered when they both were here.”

Sloan gave up. “You won't accept it, will you, Sidney?”

“Even light blue eyes aren't that uncommon.” She needed facts. “When I'm sure,” she whispered, “I'll let you know. Otherwise this is just an old house and I'm chasing a secret I'll never find the answer to.”

Sidney raised her voice and turned to the others. “Now, everyone stop looking at my eyes and start searching for a wooden rose.” She didn't want to say that in her heart she hoped it wasn't true. She'd always belonged to her mother and Granny Minnie. She wasn't sure she wanted to belong to Rosa Lee, a woman who had given her mother up so quickly so she could live in a big house all alone and have her books and her garden without the worry of a child to complicate her life.

They moved to the second floor. Everyone tried to talk Micah into staying downstairs, but he leaned on Randi and hopped his way up. Like everyone else on the committee, he wouldn't be satisfied until he had checked every room for himself.

On the second floor, the wind seemed to howl louder as a winter storm blew in. Sidney knew, if they were smart, they'd all go home, but tonight was the last night before the vote. The committee's decision would be made tomorrow.

“Repeat the poem,” Billy asked. “Maybe there is a clue in it that we overlooked.”

Sidney pulled it from her pocket. “Gone in thirty-four, a love forgotten nevermore. Look among the roses ever bright for the key to unlock the secrets of Rosa Lee.”

“We've looked everywhere,” Lora said. “There is no rose carved into this house.”

“What about outside?” Sloan asked.

“Beth Ann and I checked there this morning. We went around the house three times.” Ada May hugged herself.

A rattling came from below as if the wind had kicked the door in. No one moved.

“Sloan McCormick!” someone shouted. “Are you up there?”

Sloan motioned for everyone to be quiet as he walked a few feet to the banister so that he could see below. “Who wants to know?” he shouted.

Three shadows stood in the darkness of the entryway.

“It's Luther Oates,” another voice said. “I've got my son and grandson with me. We mean no harm. I've been thinking about it and I want to say something to the committee about this place.”

Sloan walked down the stairs carrying his work lantern at his side. When he reached the ground floor, he put the light between them. “Did you boys come armed?”

“No,” Luther said. “You have my word.”

Sloan nodded and looked up. “Luther Oates, I'd like you to meet the committee.”

Slowly, they came to the stairs. Sidney in front. Billy
and Lora just behind her. Micah leaning on Randi, and the Rogers sisters in the back.

Sidney squared her shoulders. “I'm the chairman. Say what you've come to say, Mr. Oates.”

He nodded and moved to face her. “I knew Henry Altman. What I'm about to tell you, I don't want to go beyond this house. It never has.”

“All right,” Sidney said. “You have my word.”

“Before I tell you, Dr. Dickerson, I'd like to see you up close.”

Sidney hesitated, then walked down the stairs. The old man moved closer, then nodded at Sloan. “You didn't lie, McCormick.”

Sidney wanted to ask about what, but decided to hear Luther Oates out first.

The old man looked so tired, she wasn't sure he was strong enough to do the telling. “Henry Altman was a proud man. An honorable man. We were in a religious group together. There was an accident one night and a man died. It wasn't anyone's fault. Just an accident, but it bothered Henry. After a while, it began to play with his mind, this guilt he had. None of us could convince him it wasn't his fault. He had a spell one night where his private nightmares took over his mind. Rosa Lee was planning to leave, but she said she'd delay her plans because she feared what he'd do if he were left alone. He got worse a little at a time after that. There was nothing anyone could do, not even the doctor.”

The committee moved silently down the stairs not wanting to miss a word of the old man's confession.

“As the years went by, his mind slipped more and more. Rosa Lee had the garden walk built so that if he got out of the house and wandered off, he'd eventually come right back to the house.

“By 1950 we knew he couldn't handle any part of the ranch and she couldn't cover for him. We all knew his pride would never allow anyone to know, so we decided to act like he died. She took care of both the ranch and him after that. Sometimes having to lock him away when he had his bad spells. Other times, he'd be happy to sit and listen to her read for hours or sit in the garden and watch her paint little paintings of those flowers she loved.”

Tears bubbled over Luther's eyes and fought their way down his wrinkled face. “We kept the secret. The doc, Earl Hamm and me. We kept it till the end, then buried him in a grave that already had his headstone on it.

“I thought when I died, the secret would die, too, but Sloan said you all were coming out here to find proof of a secret Rosa Lee kept. It wouldn't be fair if everyone knew it now. Not after all she sacrificed to keep her father's memory strong. Not after the way we all suffered knowing we couldn't help him out of his own hell.

“Henry Altman was a fine man. He'd be proud to think the sale of his land would go to help the town. Don't try to keep the house. Let the secret die.”

Luther Oates's grandson put his arm around his grandfather. “I didn't want him to come, but he couldn't rest fearing what you might find. I threw the drill bit that first morning. I meant it to hit the porch, but my aim was off. I'm sorry for the trouble it caused but I didn't have anything to do with what happened to Hatcher the other night. I was just thinking of my grandfather when I threw the bit, not hurting anyone.”

Sidney took Luther's hands in hers. “It's all right. Your secret is safe with us. We didn't find anything anyway and we've all been through the house several times. Now that we know what we'd find, maybe it's best left hidden away.”

She looked at the committee. “Why don't we call it a night. We'll meet tomorrow and vote.”

Everyone was too cold to argue.

They watched Luther Oates and his son and grandson leave, then one by one each said goodbye to the old house.

“Thanks,” Billy shouted and everyone listened to his voice echo down the halls. “It was nice knowing you, Rosa Lee.” He brushed the wood along the wall.

“You were stronger than we all thought,” Lora added as she moved out the door.

Ada May laughed. “You gave us quite an adventure.” She followed her sister out.

Micah leaned on his crutches and listened for a minute as if expecting the house to call out for them not to leave. Then, he smiled at the cowgirl at his side and said, “If you'll take me home, there's someone I'd like you to meet.”

Randi nodded and followed him.

Sidney stood alone for one last moment while Sloan turned off the lanterns and the rooms went black. She knew the secret now, but she didn't understand her part in it.

S
loan started a fire in Sidney's little fireplace while she made coffee.

“Do you want anything to eat?” she asked absently.

“No. I'm still recovering from the chili burger I had at lunch.” He stood and tripped over the coffee table as he backed away from the fire. “Did I ever tell you this place is too small?”

She laughed. “About a hundred times.”

“How about next weekend, we take off for my place on Lake Travis. It's got a fireplace you could stand up in and a kitchen we could move around in while we cook. We could catch our dinner, then cook it up with hush puppies and fries.”

“I'd like that.” She tried to sound positive, but this was a big step for her. She had no idea how to act around Sloan. He was too old to be a boyfriend and, in truth, he was already far more to her than a friend.

Sloan circled one hand around her waist. “I've got two bedrooms at the place, Sidney. I'm not trying to talk you into anything more than spending some time with me.”

She wanted to say she needed some time away from Clifton Creek but she didn't want him to think she was just going to get away. “What about your next job?”

“I've got a month of vacation planned. Or, if you have
to finish out the semester, I could travel over on weekends till then and we could spend Christmas at the lake house.”

She didn't answer. She was afraid to. She'd been alone. She knew what that was like. Being with him was stepping into uncharted territory.

“If the weather's bad,” he continued as he stood behind her holding her gently, “we could read by the fire or pop popcorn and watch old movies. I've got about a hundred.”

“Any on how to fish?”

“I can teach you that, but you have to clean what you catch.”

“Maybe I'll bring soup and look through your movies.”

They talked about what movies they liked as they filled their coffee and moved back into the living room. She knew he was purposely not mentioning the Altman house, or the vote. He was proving himself a man of his word. She mattered. Not the house or his company.

When the phone rang, Sidney settled in for a long talk with Ada May who wanted to know exactly the order of what would happen tomorrow morning and what Sidney thought they should wear. After the vote, the mayor planned an announcement. The whole thing probably wouldn't take half an hour, but Ada May would be up all night making a list of what had to be done.

Sidney finally hung up and turned to find Sloan examining the old rocking horse they'd found in Rosa Lee's house. “We'll have to decide what to do with this tomorrow,” she said as she knelt beside him. “It's the only thing of value in the house, but it doesn't belong to me.”

“Doesn't it?” Sloan touched an oval of metal on the horse's bridle. The metal turned, reflecting a portrait on one side and a mirror on the other. “I've figured out this metal winds a music box inside the horse, but I can't seem to make it start playing. Look closely, Sidney.”

She leaned near and saw a picture of Rosa Lee painted on one side of the metal and a mirror on the other.

“What were the last lines of the poem Miss Carter told us in the nursing home?
The mirror turns blending old and young to the chime of a tune that was never sung.”

He looked at the painting, flipping the metal back and forth. “Old and young, almost the same face. You could have sat for the painting, Sidney.” He leaned back and pushed his hand on the horse's head so the rocking horse began to rock.

A melody began to play. “Rock-a-bye Baby.”

“To a tune that was never sung,” Sloan repeated.

Sidney sat back trying to put all the pieces together. She didn't know what to believe. If Rosa Lee had been her mother's mother, Sidney now knew the reason she'd given her up. Not because of selfishness, but because of love. Rosa Lee had loved her father. She couldn't abandon him. She'd given her baby to someone whom she knew would love her so that she could stay with Henry.

Sidney reached to stop the rocking horse. The melody was slowly breaking her heart. Rosa Lee had never rocked her child.

Her fingers brushed against one of the wooden roses carved into the lei of flowers around the horse's neck.

Wooden roses!

Sidney gasped.

Sloan moved closer and put his fingers over hers. “Wooden roses,” he whispered as he gently pushed her fingers against the wood.

The rose shifted, giving to their touch and sliding sideways. Letters tumbled out.

Sidney picked one up, then another, then another. “They're all from Minnie Jefferson to Rosa Lee. They're all from my grandmother.”

Sloan laughed. “To your grandmother, you mean. This looks like the one clue you can't ignore. This looks like the secret Rosa Lee left for you.”

They spread the letters out by postmark and Sidney opened them one by one. All contained pictures of her granny Minnie and her mother and later of her. Each letter told a detailed listing of Marbree's life. As the years passed there were newspaper clippings of when Minnie's husband died and when Marbree married. And pictures, more pictures than Sidney had ever seen. In each letter Minnie called Marbree “our girl,” and when Sidney was born, Minnie wrote in big letters.
We have a granddaughter.

Sidney wasn't sure when she began to cry, but she couldn't seem to stop. Her life, her mother's life, Minnie's life were all spread out before her, told in loving letters to Rosa Lee. The family she'd loved so dearly and lost came back to her, treasured and kept for a lifetime by Rosa Lee.

She looked up to see that Sloan had moved to a chair and studied one of the last letters written. “What is it?”

“It doesn't sound like Rosa Lee ever wrote back. There is not one reference about Minnie knowing anything about Rosa Lee's life except here.”

Sidney moved closer and leaned on his knee as he read.

“Minnie writes that the garden looks beautiful this year. How would she know that if Rosa Lee never wrote or sent pictures?”

Sidney shook her head. “I was around Minnie all the time growing up. I think I would have noticed pictures coming. I can't even remember her ever getting anything but bills except maybe the paintings she ordered.”

They both turned to the collection of paintings on Sidney's wall. Small eight-by-tens, all of flowers.

Sloan stood and offered Sidney his hand. They walked
slowly toward the paintings. “These weren't just paintings your grandmother collected. They were scenes from Rosa Lee's garden. Her life couldn't have been good, taking care of her father all the time, but she sent what beauty there was in it. She sent paintings of her garden here in Clifton Creek.”

This time, Sidney believed. She smiled as she looked at the beautiful paintings she'd loved all her life. “My mother was the love gone in thirty-four,” Sidney whispered. “A love forgotten nevermore.”

“How many of these did you say you had?”

“Thirty, maybe more. I asked my grandmother Minnie why she had so many and she told me because she loved them so dearly. Now, I understand why.” Sidney brushed one of the frames, remembering how she'd studied them when she'd been small thinking that they were her special place where all was beautiful.

They spent most of the night looking at the paintings and rereading the letters. Sloan laughed at all the pictures of Sidney growing up. Finally, she rested her head tiredly on his shoulder as they cuddled on the couch. The fire had died down and the wind outside had settled finally. All the world seemed silent.

As she closed her eyes, Sidney remembered thinking she was surrounded with family. She pushed her foot against the rocking horse and listened one more time to her grandmother Rosa Lee sing her to sleep.