have their own lives. She keeps saying they don't need a meddling old lady telling them what to do." George shrugged. "Not like the Rose I remembered."
Stephen understood some of Rose's feelings. Wasn't any different for him. Hell, wasn't any different for anyone who lost a spouse. Fortunately for him, he enjoyed people and didn't allow himself to fall into such a deep depression. Friends helped and his son's family was there for him, although they lived an hour away until they went overseas. Now he had Sarah until they came back. That took up most of his time.
"Louise figured it was more that Rose didn't want her kids to suffer the loss the way she had when her parents passed." George continued. "I guess she doesn't realize she can't prevent those feelings no matter how you distance yourself. They were such a close knit family when those kids were growing up. They're gonna miss her no matter what. Hell, they miss her now. And she's causing undue hurt on the kids because she won't talk to them."
"I don't suppose she talked to a grief counselor or anyone." Stephen figured the answer was no. From the little he knew about her, she seemed like the type to want to work it out herself.
"Louise tried to get her to seek help from a professional or speak to a grief counselor, but Rose won't have any part of it. All Louise and I can do is offer support and a sympathetic ear." George shook his head. "I'm glad you're Rose's friend. She needs someone else in her life. Especially now. This thing with Louise is bringing it all back."
"Whoa, I've only known her for a couple days, hours really. Until yesterday, we hardly spoke.” Stephen tried to explain.
George smiled. "Well, I hope it turns into a lasting friendship. I'd like to see Rose happy again. Don't you give up. She'll come around. You come and talk to me if you want to know more."
George could count on that.
* * *
Rose came out of the bathroom and looked at him. "I'm ready."
"This is for you." Stephen handed her the rose.
"Thank you." Rose took the rose and sniffed the fragrant flower. Light pink meant gentleness, admiration and sympathy.
"Okay, let's go."
A shiver of excitement went through Rose when he took her arm. Frank used to have the same affect on her. Her insides turned to jelly with just a look from him. She had to stop this nonsense. She didn't like this feeling at all. Stephen Daniels meant nothing to her.
Or did he?
They were quiet on the ride home. Rose was grateful he didn't try to make small talk. She dreaded going into the house. Dreaded going up to her bedroom. Sergeant Pilsner warned her. She hoped she was ready for it.
Stephen pulled into her drive, got out and hurried to her side of the car. Being independent, Rose usually didn't wait, but today she hesitated. She knew what awaited her. Pausing at the front door, she looked to Stephen for reassurance. He nodded and she opened it. Someone had fixed the hinges.
He gasped as they walked into the room.
Her legs trembled. She pulled back, took a deep breath. A wave of nausea swept over her as she looked at the room again. Stephen put his arm around her, and they walked to the stairway. He mumbled something that sounded like he had no idea.
Even staying with Stephen would be better than spending another minute here. But she had to go on. Even if she did agree to stay with him, she needed clothes. She cringed at the entrance to her bedroom and then walked inside, looking at the destruction.
Tears swelled in her eyes when she ran her hand along the damaged dresser. Opened fingernail polish remover lay on its side, peeling the varnish off the top and halfway down the side. Gouges from a sharp object pierced the wood. Her clothes were strewn from the drawers and scattered around the room. The blankets and sheets pulled from the bed. The mattress slashed. The headboard bore deep gouges the same as the dresser. Rose remembered how excited she and Frank had been when they bought
Stephen understood some of Rose's feelings. Wasn't any different for him. Hell, wasn't any different for anyone who lost a spouse. Fortunately for him, he enjoyed people and didn't allow himself to fall into such a deep depression. Friends helped and his son's family was there for him, although they lived an hour away until they went overseas. Now he had Sarah until they came back. That took up most of his time.
"Louise figured it was more that Rose didn't want her kids to suffer the loss the way she had when her parents passed." George continued. "I guess she doesn't realize she can't prevent those feelings no matter how you distance yourself. They were such a close knit family when those kids were growing up. They're gonna miss her no matter what. Hell, they miss her now. And she's causing undue hurt on the kids because she won't talk to them."
"I don't suppose she talked to a grief counselor or anyone." Stephen figured the answer was no. From the little he knew about her, she seemed like the type to want to work it out herself.
"Louise tried to get her to seek help from a professional or speak to a grief counselor, but Rose won't have any part of it. All Louise and I can do is offer support and a sympathetic ear." George shook his head. "I'm glad you're Rose's friend. She needs someone else in her life. Especially now. This thing with Louise is bringing it all back."
"Whoa, I've only known her for a couple days, hours really. Until yesterday, we hardly spoke.” Stephen tried to explain.
George smiled. "Well, I hope it turns into a lasting friendship. I'd like to see Rose happy again. Don't you give up. She'll come around. You come and talk to me if you want to know more."
George could count on that.
* * *
Rose came out of the bathroom and looked at him. "I'm ready."
"This is for you." Stephen handed her the rose.
"Thank you." Rose took the rose and sniffed the fragrant flower. Light pink meant gentleness, admiration and sympathy.
"Okay, let's go."
A shiver of excitement went through Rose when he took her arm. Frank used to have the same affect on her. Her insides turned to jelly with just a look from him. She had to stop this nonsense. She didn't like this feeling at all. Stephen Daniels meant nothing to her.
Or did he?
They were quiet on the ride home. Rose was grateful he didn't try to make small talk. She dreaded going into the house. Dreaded going up to her bedroom. Sergeant Pilsner warned her. She hoped she was ready for it.
Stephen pulled into her drive, got out and hurried to her side of the car. Being independent, Rose usually didn't wait, but today she hesitated. She knew what awaited her. Pausing at the front door, she looked to Stephen for reassurance. He nodded and she opened it. Someone had fixed the hinges.
He gasped as they walked into the room.
Her legs trembled. She pulled back, took a deep breath. A wave of nausea swept over her as she looked at the room again. Stephen put his arm around her, and they walked to the stairway. He mumbled something that sounded like he had no idea.
Even staying with Stephen would be better than spending another minute here. But she had to go on. Even if she did agree to stay with him, she needed clothes. She cringed at the entrance to her bedroom and then walked inside, looking at the destruction.
Tears swelled in her eyes when she ran her hand along the damaged dresser. Opened fingernail polish remover lay on its side, peeling the varnish off the top and halfway down the side. Gouges from a sharp object pierced the wood. Her clothes were strewn from the drawers and scattered around the room. The blankets and sheets pulled from the bed. The mattress slashed. The headboard bore deep gouges the same as the dresser. Rose remembered how excited she and Frank had been when they bought
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