February 2016 +1+
On the morning of her first surgery Rosalie ran away from home.
I'd still been asleep and woken up to the unusual sound of my landline ringing. On the other end was a patrol constable who had found Rose wandering alone at the train station downtown. I had to hear him explain himeself twice before I understood what was happening.
When he brought Rose back to my apartment she had on her book bag, a neatly packed rolling bag, her passport and over 200 dollars in cash. She was so prepared. When the office left she just stared at me, daring me to question her. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.
I'd managed to sweet talk the officer into not writing a report. I didn't want to be in any system. I quickly got dressed and pushed Rose out the door so we could get to the hospital in time for her operation.
"Rose. . .where were you going ?" I asked her on the drive to the hospital.
Rose didn't answer from where she was brooding in the back seat. She just folded her arms and refused to look at me. She never told me where she was going, but I can guess now. I told Rose she would be fine. No one ever tells you how to explain cancer to a child and for once I was glad for Rose's overly sensible nature.
Her x-rays light up like a Christmas tree whenever the doctor showed them to me. Her body was betraying her from the inside. Dr. Lockwood had urged me to have the tumor in her eye removed asap, before it effected her vision. I wanted to wait but the thought of Rose going blind was to heavy a burden.
I turned up the Einaudi on the stereo to drown out the silence between us. I peered in the rear view mirror when I heard a 'click' in the backseat.
"Rose put on your seat--"
Before I could finish I caught sight of where Rose had unbuckled her seatbelt, she reached over the seat and tried to take the wheel from me.
"ROSE"
I slammed on the break and the car went up the the sidewalk and bumped into some trash cans. I took a few minutes to catch my breath.
"I don't want to go.", she said in the faint British accent she'd picked up from the nannies I cycled through.
"Rose, you could have--We could have been hurt. What is wrong with you ?"
"I don't want to get better, Mommy. I want to die." she screamed as I engaged the child safety locks.
I put my forehead against the wheel in frustration and balled my hands into tight fist.
"Rose, I don't have time for this nonsense."
I wished I had a sedan. I wish I could grab her and lock her in the trunk until she learned to be grateful. This was her life I was trying to save. When I went to start the car again the battery was dead.
"Fuck."
I cursed again and laid in on the horn just to do something. I grabbed Rose by the arm (to keep her close) and started to call a cab. I tapped my phone over and over again but the screen stayed black.
"I guess we're taking the subway", I said dragging Rose down the street. She followed mindlessly.
We got to the hospital one hour late, Rose was perfectly calm until she got to the hospital. Then she started screaming.
I apologized to all the nurse and doctors as they got her in the O.R. It was the start of many apologies, many tantrums and many things I'd have to do all on my own.
+2+
It became obvious that hospitals drove Rose mad. I thought she had a phobia or maybe she just thought everyone was staring at her ? The only thing that calmed her was the music on her iPod shuffle. She wore it clipped to her collar almost 24 hours a day.
After a few tiring weeks of chauffeuring Rose around between work, I gave in and allowed Rose to receive her chemotherapy treatments at Mr. Fierro's home in Maidstone. There was more space and I thought maybe (just maybe) fresh country air would do her good.
In the beginning it didn't look good for Rose. The doctors put her on waiting list for eight experimental drug trials in the U.S and Canada, and I knew being
wealthy would make us either less likely or more likely to be chosen depending on the situation.
l tried to give Rose the happiest childhood I could before things became to bad, but Rose refused to cooperate. I spent one afternoon at Ashford teaching her to ride a bicycle. Mr Fierro had stood in the shadows of his front door watching while I rode around in circles on my yellow bike and tried to get Rose to follow me , but she just threw the magenta vintage bike on the ground after falling once and accused me of trying to upset her.
I took her out for tea at the Waldorf-Astoria in London and she refused to drink anything and threw hot tea on my Chanel dress. Needles to say Emile was the only one disappointed when the treatments made her to sick to go to Disneyland Paris.
I did get a picture though, a family picture I guess you could call it. There was this spot on the north side of Ashford, where the exterior side was covered in pink climbing roses. I dragged over a wooden chair so I could sit and hold Rose but she adamantly refused, so Mr. Fierro and I switched places. I sat on the arm the of the chair, I'd set the camera on a timer and I did a subtle fake smile and started into the lens waiting for it to flash.
I hadn’t liked watching the caretakers fill her room at Ashford with medical coolers, IVs and a pink child sized hospital bed. Rose seemed to be swallowed up by it all. I hadn’t even thought to ask for my portion of cost, I just let it happen.
There were also bells. Rose had become obsessed with them. In her sleep Rose was constantly going on about bells and when she was strong enough after treatments, she drew pages and pages of bells. I even bought her some decorative porcelain bells for her room. They were so annoying. Even when I was in my apartment alone I swear I could hear them chiming.
I kept to my regular work schedule at the school because that was what kept me sane. Whenever I came out to the country to see Rose she took all her frustration out on me. She blamed me for how sick the chemo made her. She even tried to stab me with the hair shears after I cut off her thinning hair while she was slept, she actually nicked me. Rose knew my hands were important to my music and I never wanted to slap her more in my life. I stormed out the house with a bandage pressed to my hand.
I passed Mr. Fierro sitting on the staircase that had started all of this.
"Look what that horrible child did to me."
He opened his eyes when he heard my voice and looked at where she had stabbed me with the scissors.
"You", he said quietly, "You didn't have to cut her hair, isn't she going though enough ?"
I opened my mouth to protest but thought better of it. I stormed passed him and out the door.
The thing was Emile tried to help the best he could, but Emile was an emotional person and Rose didn't need to see that. But Emile still tried because Mr. Fierro couldn't. I still get angry just thinking about how Fierro threw himself into his work. He spent hours out in the glasshouse and nights judging by the dark circles under his eyes.
Every phone call from the doctors went through me. Everytime a caretaker wanted to quit or would make up some excuse why they couldn't come back, they called me. I drove back and forth between London and Maidstone multiple times a day and not once did he offer to let me stay the night in one of the guest rooms.
Those bells
Those damn bells I bought Rose, I was hearing them in my nightmares.
Whenever I was in Maidstone she rang them over and over and over again when she wanted something or when she wanted to annoy me. I wanted to take them all away from her, but they were the only thing that made her happy. And because Rose was dying. . . it was the least I could do.
+3+
May 2016
It was a Saturday.
I'd been in bed all day when there was a knock at my apartment door. I was supposed to take Rose to the hospital for a targeted radiation therapy appointment, but I made up a lie and asked her day nurse to take her. I was just to tired. Plus I had to prep for midterms, listen to compositions and sleep.
The rhythmic knock sounded again and I looked out the peep-hole to see Mr. Fierro standing there in a pinstripe shirt and gray slacks. He wasn't alone. Behind him was an older man with a full beard and scholarly look to him. I recognized him instantly as Dr. Robert Essex.
Professor Robert Essex was a lot of things. He was a professor, scientist and occultist. He was interested in spiritualism, the afterlife, philosophy and a number of other troubling "isms" that made his friendship with Mr. Fierro, a God-fearing Plain man so unusual. They'd met a few years back when Mr. Fierro was dealing with Lucie's somewhat pestering presence. I think Mr. Fierro found him interesting, he could talk to Essex about all the things we never said to one another.
Either way I wasn't letting Essex into my apartment. He was obsessed with Rose and all of her little quirks plus he managed to look at me everywhere except in the eye.
I tamed my hair into a ponytail and threw on a sundress and sweatshirt. I peered to see them still waiting. My apartment was a complete mess. I kept the chain lock on and opened the door.
"I don't want him in my apartment." I said indicating Essex.
"Ms. DeLune--"
"I won't open this door."
"Clara-"
"I'm serious." I said.
"Come now", Essex said in that voice he used when he talked to women and children, "Is there something in there you don't want me to see ? "
"Get away from my door."
The two men conferred for a few minutes and I watched to make sure Essex really did leave. I sighed and opened the door. Mr. Fierro's light eyes were dark with sleep deprivation and he smelled so much like roses. I wandered if he used that sugar scrub Mrs. Lancaster sold at the Farmer's market, before I knew it I felt a little blush coming on.
"That was not very hospitable, Ms. DeLune."
"What--oh--He creeps me out." I said locking the door behind him.
"You shouldn't be so closed minded. Essex could help."
"Help with what ?". I asked wondering if we were actually going to talk about this. All of the unusual things
"I came for the last of Rose's things." He changed the subject.
"Right, come in."
Mr. Fierro stepped inside my apartment and carefully examined the paintings I had on my wall. I thought for a moment I heard him curse. He reached a hand to touch the canvases.
"Please, don't", I said, "They're originals."
". . .my apologies. Why are the eyes scratched out ?", He said stepping away.
"What are you --"
I moved to look at the canvases. They were a small collection of Jack Vettriano's more tasteful contemporary paintings. Mostly of them were of elegant couples and dancers. I looked closer and noticed the eyes of the subjects had been scratched through leaving white lines on the canvas.
"Shit", I said then bit my lip. 300,000 dollars worth of paintings mutilated, "These were originals. I can't believe she did this. Rose must have--"
"Rose hasn't been here in seven weeks."
I reached up to touch the scratched through eyes, and a tiny drop of water runs down the canvas and splashes on my barefoot. I yelp andjump back and nearly fall into Mr. Fierro.
"Oh. I . . . . . . I think I have roaches", I said evenly, "I'll get Rose's stuff. It's just school books."
"I'll come with you", I said grabbing my car keys and putting on some flip flops, "I bailed on Rose this morning. I should check in on her."
Mr. Fierro followed me outside to where my SUV was parked. Behind it was his silver Vanquish. Mr. Cardall, his driver, was reading a paper in the front seat. Mr. Fierro kept a driver because he wasn't fond of city driving. In his 70s Mr. Cardall had been ready to see the world and happily followed his employer.
I stuffed the box into the trunk of my SUV and motioned for Mr. Cardall to roll down the window. I held out my keys to him.
"Want to switch ?", I asked raising and eyebrow.
Mr. Cardall looked to his employer first, I didn't see how Mr. Fierro reacted but Mr. Cardall happily switched keys with me.I slid into the driver seat of the Vanquish and it smelled like new leather. When I turned the key it purred. The passenger side opened and Mr. Fierro stepped in. It took me a second to find the button to let the top down, it was a rare warm London morning. I revved the engine again and pulled off.
I was careful and drove the speed limit in the city, but once the paved street gave way to the soft country road I started to speed up. The wind whipped through my hair and I actually started smiling. I should have looked to see Mr. Fierro's reaction. Maybe he was smiling.
I kept my eyes on the road and held tight during curves. I checked my speed and looked up to see someone in the road.
No.
Not someone
Rose.
I think I said it out load because Mr. Fierro turned to me.
Roses' back was to me and she was wearing her favorite rose pattern dress and white shoes. I yelped and jerked to a stop, the wheel spun out of my hands. I heard Mr. Fierro shout something at me, I unhooked my seat belt as the car flipped off the road and slammed into a oak tree.
---
I felt numb.
I had no idea how long I had been out. It couldn't have been long. Mr. Cardall would have driven by.
I dragged myself out of the grass. I felt sore but nothing felt broken.
"Mr. Fierro--", I called, "Mr."
I saw the wreckage and nearly screamed, the car was smashed head first into the sturdy oak. I crawled over to the car, glad that I'd taken the hood down. Mr. Fierro was unconscious and still strapped in. His face was covered in blood. I didn't like seeing Rose vulnerable and this I couldn't handle. I started crying, not just tears but rattling sobs.
"It's fine", I said more to myself, "You aren't going to die, you're fine."
How about a coma ? Could he go into a coma ? His eyes started moving behind his pale lids and he opened one. His eye darted around and he seemed delirious.
"Don't move. Mr. Cardall should drive by soon."
I unhooked his seatbelt and tried to pull him out the car, but I couldn't. After what felt like forever Mr. Cardall drove up in my SUV. He kept the car running and ran toward us, his cell phone in hand.
"Don't call 112", I called to Mr. Cardall but he was gaping at me, "Call Emile."
"Yes, Miss." Mr. Cardall said.
He doesn't hesitate and Mr. Cardall still can't stop staring at me.
Together Cardall and I are able to pull Mr. Fierro from the car and onto the grass. I brushed Mr. Fierro's hair back and feel for his pulse. It was there. Of course it was there.
"Wake up", I whispered to Mr. Fierro
He opens his eyes.
"I'm fine, Lucie."
I could have laughed if I wasn't still crying
"Do I really look like Lucie to you." , I said lightly
His eyes focused on me again, as if he thought it was a trick question.
"It follows", he said
"What ?"
He grabs my hair and pulls me close
"It follows.They follow. Rose. You must learn to. . . they were not always monsters. They have her now. They will not let her go. They follow. They will always follow so we must. . .we must learn to live with. . . "
He stopped short and let go of my hair, A car horn blared and I saw Emile's red Fiat. Emile got out of the car and ran over.
"Clara what happened", he shouted at me.
"I saw someone in the road--I mean I thought I did and I just swerved into a tree."
"You were driving ?", Emile asked
"Yes."
"You were in the car."
"Yes."
"Clara. Look at yourself."
I looked down. Yes I felt a little sore but my clothes were perfectly in tact. I glanced in Emile's mirror and my hair was barley tossed. It was like nothing had happened to me all.
"Where are you taking him", I changed the subject
"A private doctor in Kent and maybe the night with me in London. He won't want Rose seeing him like this."
"Right", I said. I should have thought of that, "I can get one of the nurses to stay the night with Rose and--"
". . . why don't you stay with her, Clara", Emile says
"Oh, right. "
While Emile and Cardall get Fierro in the car, I walk over to where I know I saw someone standing in the road. I don't know what I saw but I spy two tiny foot prints dotted in the dry earth and not another soul in sight.+5+
Ashford Cottage seemed daunting to me when I pulled up that evening. I guess I'd never been to Mr. Fierro's house at night. I'd made sure Mr. Fierro made it to Emile's okay and the doctor looked at me strange when I asked him to look me over. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror provided further proof that I had been virtual unharmed by the accident.
The day nurse was leaving as I approached. She gave me a quick update on Rose but I wasn't listening. I climbed the stairs to see Rose in her bedroom. The hospital bed was outfitted in a jacquard pink bed set and the sides of the bed were painted a matte white to imitate wrought iron.
When she saw me Rose took her earbuds out one at at time and placed her pink iPod shuffle on the dresser. Next to it was her favorite porcelain bell, I'd found it at an antique store while looking for picture frames. Rose was propped up on 5 pillows with hands in her lap, she stared blankly at me.
"Papa's not coming home. Is he ?", she said.
Rose snapped her head to look me right in the eye. Like she knew something.
No.
Rose would never hurt one of us. Rose would never hurt him at least.
"I--no. Not tonight", I said, "I'll stay with you. It will be fun. We'll be fine in the big scary house in the middle of nowhere", I said the last part more to myself.
"You have to follow the house rules, Mommy."
"Okay, whatever," I really hoped I could find the wine cellar. There had to be one.
I grabbed an t-shirt from the gym bag I kept in my SUV and took a shower in Rose's bathroom. The cabinets were full of empty medicine bottles. In the back of one cabinet I found a silver jewellery box
Rosalie Emmiline Fierro was engraved on it
I slid open the lid and saw nothing on the plush velvet surface, but the box felt heavy. I peeled back the velvet and saw the bottom was littered with pens, buttons, handkerchiefs and broaches. I immediately recognized one of her past Nanny's class ring and a china figurine from Emile's house and all sorts of stolen baubles.
"Dammit, Rose", I said putting the velvet back and sticking the box back in the cabinet. I needed some wine.
It wasn't until I went downstairs that I realized how eerie it was to be alone in this house. There were no hum of electronics or central air. Rose's room had a window unit.
I did a bit of snooping. The kitchen cabinets were empty except for coffee grounds, salt and pepper. The fridge was full of fresh fruit and a pitcher of water. I continued my snooping upstairs but all of the doors were locked. It was perplexing that all of the doors locked from the inside.
I heard the unfamiliar sound of a little girl laughing. I turned and was greeted with darkness.
"Rose", I called out, "Rose is that--"
I felt someone behind me again and turned.
Nothing.
I went back into Rose's room to find her staring wide-eyed at the wall slowly rocking back and forth. I wanted to scold her for stealing the things in that jewellery box, but now didn't seem to be the time.
"Rose, everything is fine", I climbed into her bed. It was a bit of a tight fit but I had not choice, "I'll stay right here with you. I can't get any of the other door opened. . ."
I yawned suddenly very very tired. A tiny frail hand ran through my hair and I sat up quickly almost knocking Rose over.
"Rose--"
Rose ran her hand through my hair again, right where it hung several inches past my shoulders.
"Can I braid your hair, Mommy ?"
Rose touched the ends of my hair and I tried not to look at the patches of tiny hairs that still stubbornly clung to her scalp.
"Fine, whatever."
She sat up and I closed my eyes while she tugged at my hair into a fishtail braid. The country silence was unnerving, the hum of the medical fridge by her bed was almost welcoming
I was starting to dose off, listening to the hum of the fridge. There was also something else.
Someone in the hallway. . .
Someone who wanted to play because Mommy didn't lock the door.
+++
When Rose was a baby we'd spend hours alone in my room when I lived in Rochester. Most of the time. as a baby, she would always be sitting up and staring.
As a baby her skin was so clear and chalky white it was see through. I remembered the the way her giant pinkish-yellow baby eyes stared at me, it was so unnerving. I'd always hoped her eyes would darken or she'd get a little color.
She slept in my room until she was three years old, it was better that way considering how much she cried. She'd put her little hands around the bars of her crib and peer out at me while I studied and worked on my dissertation. She always looked at me like she knew something. Sometimes she'd chew on a stuffed animal but nothing seemed to really interest her, not even my keys or a annoying light up toy. She wasn't a normal baby.
Back then if she did open her mouth it wasn't to
coo or make cute baby noises it was to cry, which meant she just wanted to be
changed or pull out my earrings so I would need to get stitches. I still had the scars from that one.
Once when I just wanted to be alone I set her on the floor of my ensuite bathroom with a blanket and a toy. 30 minutes later she seemed content studying her plush toy. I felt guilty but did it a few more times. I wondered if she remembered that ?
It wasn't my fault
though, I had no choice. No one else to watch her, she made Father so
angry and my mother was busy with her Clarence. My sisters started growing
families and every other Saturday they'd trade off kids so one couple could have a
night off. The invitation was never extended to me.
No
one ever asked me for any pregnancy advice or child care. No one ever
offered any either. When Claudia gave birth
everyone made such a fuss, Father even cried and there was champagne. When Rose was born I was scolded like a child.
For a while I was convinced Rose had ruined my family and I was beyond stressed out and maybe a little depressed. So, one day I tried to give her away. I decided I didn't want her anymore. I drove to social services with her baby bag and a letter. She was 18 months old. A few months to old to leave at a fire station but I convinced myself social services would understand once they spent time with her.
I tried to find a safe visible place near the building to leave her. At some point Rose had dropped a toy I guess she'd reached for it but I hadn't stopped so she tried to get my attention. Instead of ripping out my earrings like she usually did she said
"Mommy"
It was the first word she ever said. . . although it sounded more like a warning. How could I give her away after she called me that ?
I stopped, turned around picked up the elephant she'd dropped and handed it to her. I then sat on on the stairs of the social services building and had a thought. A fleeting thought that this is where they bought in orphans for the tri-county area. Including those for Chataqua county. That it was possible that 50 years prior a young orphan boy could have found himself here.
I woke up from my thoughts in a haze, it was the middle of the night and I turned to see Rose looking at me from where she was propped up on her five pillows. She knew exactly what I was thinking about. I just knew she did. I didn't get a wink of sleep that night.
+4+
When I woke up the next morning I had unceremoniously rolled out of Rose's tiny bed and smacked into the floor. Thank God for carpet. I stretched and saw Rose hiding under the bed with her back to me. Her hair was in soft ringlets and she was overdressed in a familiar lacy dress.
"Rose" I said, "Aren't you a little overdressed ? Why are you hiding under here . . ."
Her curls shifted as she shook her head and curled in some more.
"Rose are you hiding from me ?"
I crawled under the bed and reached for Rose. Rose curled herself further in and then she let out this loud feral sounding noise that sent a cold shock down my spine, in the blink of an eye Rose crawled further under the bed so fast she completely disappeared in the shadows. Into the wall.
"Fuck"
I jolted to my feet.
I saw my Rose sitting on her bed. Her bare scalp protected underneath a cozie. Her nurse had left a warm cup of tea next to her bedside. Next to Rose's pillow was a long black braid. I reached up to touch my head. It felt lighter.. She's cut my hair or . . . someone had.
"Rose"
I pointed under the bed then back at her then ran my hands through my non-existent hair.
"He says I have to play with her, Mommy." Rose explained calmly, "Then she'll be nice.. . one day"
Rose picked her tea cup off the saucer and blew on it.
"But she really doesn't like you", Rose whispered
I opened my mouth and screamed.
I had to get out. Some natural instinct to run just kicked in and I grabbed my clothes from the chair and stumbled down the stairs. Mrs. Hexell, The housekeeper was already brewing coffee downstairs.
"Is everything okay", she asked meeting me at the foot of the stairs.
"I-I"
I took the coffee but stopped when I felt a rush of cool air. I looked at this woman. . . really looked at her.
"I hope the girls didn't wake you", she said calmly.
I dropped the coffee cup on the floor, the hot liquid sprayed against my bare legs but didn't leave a mark on Mrs. Hexell's dress. Which now looked oddly. . . outdated.
"Who are you ?", My voice shook
" Clara, you know how children are. They think all bad parents should be punished. Perhaps some should."
She smiled warmly at me and extended another cup of coffee to me.
I dodged her like she was holding a bomb, I grabbed my car keys and sprinted out the door and into the safety of my SUV. I pushed on the gas and drove until I felt. . . safe.
"What the hell, what the hell , what the hell."
I pulled over on the country road and got out the car and dug a bottle of wine out of the trunk. I used my keys to fight with the cork and downed a mouthful of the dark red Cabernet. I sat on the hood of my car and considered going back. I drank another mouthful and laughed. There was no way in hell I was going back there.
After a few minutes I got back in the car and turned on some peaceful Yriuma, I called Emile when I reached the city. The phone rang twice before someone picked up
"Emile ?", I shouted.
"Clara, what's wrong ?"
"I need to speak to Mr. Fierro now. I. . ."
"Is it Rose ?"
"No. I don't know. It's that house Emile."
"He's still sleeping and I'm having a hard time explaining this to Robert--"
"Emile. There is something in that house."
Silence
"Emile. . . did you know."
"I don't know. I don't like going over there but when I did. . I thought. I don't know what I thought."
"Did you see a little girl. . . and Mrs. Hexell."
"Who ?"
"His house---God, nevermind."
"You should talk to Essex. He's been at the house a lot. He knows more about it than I do."
"I'm not talking to that man, but I am getting my daughter out of that house."
"Fierro would never put Rose in danger."
"Honestly, I'm not so sure about that anymore."
+5+
I called Dr. Lockwood's office and when he wouldn't pick up I went to his office. I waited for hours until he would see me, the moment I got into his office I pleaded with him to get Rose into a trial program. When he didn't give me the answer I wanted, I told him how much money I was willing to pay or donate to make it happen. I wrote a check from Rose's trust fun and left it there.
He called me back in a few hours--- I'm not proud of how much it ended up costing me, but when I got off the phone with him Rose had been admitted to a trial at the Children's Hospital of Houston. It was far from what I wanted but I didn't have much of a choice.
I spent the night in London and called for an overnight nurse to stay with Rose. The next morning I'd taken advantage of Mr. Fierro's absence and had all the medical equipment sent back and the caretakers released from contracts. I could hear them breathe a sigh of relief over the phone.
I'd done some crude goggling and went back to the Ashford doused in clary sage perfume to ward of anything uninvited, now that I think about it it was silly and probably didn't work, but it made me feel better.
Rose was so delirious from her chemotherapy that morning, she had no idea what was happening, she half nodded in understanding when I explained to her that we were leaving this terrible house. I picked Rose up and carried her downstairs. I cursed but didn't stop when I saw Emile's Fiat pull up outside.
"Clara", Emile got out the driver's seat, "What's going on--"
“Ms. DeLune" , Mr. Fierro cut him off as he climbed out of the passenger seat, “Where are you going. Where are you taking her ?
Rose had started crying and whining about being tired.
“Away from here", I said broadly, "Dr. Lockwood got her into a trial and we're leaving next week I think it's ---.”
“You’re taking her to New York.”
“No.”, I said sharply,
"Where ?", he said even sharper.
"Away from this . . . madhouse", I said, "From what or who the hell is inside that house. Whatever it is it's making her worst and my hair. Look at my hair"
He stopped and looked at me like he didn't understand.
"The house did that to your hair ?", Emile asked cautiously
"No. Rose did--but the house there is something in--"
"Shhh", Mr. Fierro said
"What is it ?", I whispered, "What the hell have you been doing ?"
He shook his head and changed the subject
"Where are you taking her ?", he asked again
“. . .Houston. It's a good hospital and I'm desperate to gt her better. I didn't give everything up for her to just die. I'm doing this and you really can't stop me”
“I can’t let you take her from me.”, he said, “Not again.”
It should have been hard for me to stand my ground after that, but I was determined.
“I’m sorry”
“Clara”
I let a tear slip. I was not supposed to be crying..
“I’m sorry. I have to do this. There is something alot more dangerous than cancer coming after her and you are just letting it happen"
He bowed his head.
"I'm not just letting it happen. You can't run from it. No matter where you take Rose. . . it follows."
"That's what you said after the accident. It follows. What does that mean ?"
He looked back up at me.
"Ms. DeLune, Rose has a gift. She has a light about her. She attracts. . . spectres."
I took a step back and shook my head. I felt Rose's weight against me and readjusted my grip on her. Emile jogged over to me and took Rose, Emile smiled so warmly at her and she reached her arms around him.
"How are you doing my pretty girl", Emile asked, "Everything is going to be okay."
I could relax a little knowing she was with Emile, I turned back to Mr. Fierro."That's over.", I said, "That is not apart of our lives anymore."
"Far from it. As long as Rose is. . . they will be. The unease, the shadows, the touch of melancholy. You can't ever truly escape it. This world is full of lost soul looking for someone to talk to. Essex's says her only option is to . . . embrace it."
He closed his eyes and changed the subject again.
"Ms. DeLune please tell me that doctor didn't talk you into taking her back to America."
"No. ", I said honestly "I just don't want Rose to die as a child. I don't like what that could mean for me. She could become just like.. . . "
I gestured to the house.
"Clara--"
"If Rose dies. . .she would come back for me, I know
it", I said " She would never let me live it down. She would always
blame me for letting her die, for what my father did to her. She would make me suffer. . . forever. She would haunt me and drive me insane for the rest of my life. Forever. I know she would because she does it now."
He was quiet. He didn't deny this. Rose probably told him all the time how much she hated me. She probably still did.
"What about your career ?"
"That. . . can wait.", I'd quit my job that morning, "Everything can wait. I need to get Rose better so I can have some peace of mind."
Mr. Fierro looked past me at his beautiful house, his beautiful isolated
house where finally no one could reach him except the undead apparently. He didn't want to leave this place.
"I should join you"
"No, you don't have to. We'll be fine."
"I'll make time. And Ms. DeLune, I am by no means doing this for you.", He said look over at Emile and Rose.
I turned to the house and saw a curtain lifting in Rose's bedroom window. I took a step back as a hand-print appeared on the window.
"What happened here", I asked looking up at the house.
"Mrs. Lancaster said this was a quarantine house. A wealth family with eight sons quarantined their ninth child, a deathly ill little girl, and her governess here while the rest of the family stayed in London for the winter. There was a snowstorm and no one ever came back for them or the house. They died huddled together by the fire. Even years later no one ever came for them.
Essex thinks the girl wanted to come back to the world of the living so her family would be able to find her. Her parents never came back, so to her they were terrible people. By the simple transitive logic of children--
"All parents are terrible people."
+++
This was a longer chapter. So something else. . . eerie is going on that Clara is trying to ignore. With that said I had a cute picture from Disney Paris that was supposed to go up here but I must have unhearted it because I can't find it ): It was of Micky and Minnie on a float waving and wearing purple with a filter on it.
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