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The DeLune household had been thrown into absolute chaos.
Mrs. Clair DeLune skirted down the halls, running into housekeeping staff while talking on the phone and shouting orders to anyone she came across. She could hear her infant son, Clarence, crying in one ear as she continued down the hall.
Usually a calm and demure woman few people had ever seen her in such distress.
The last time that came to memory would have been a few months ago in April when Mrs. DeLune and her husband Martin received a four am phone call.
Nanny Ella, Clarence’s Nanny, had picked up the phone before it could wake the baby.
Nanny Ella did not recognize the frantic voice on the other end of the line, a voice spoke in a mixture of English and Italian.
Mrs. DeLune picked up the other line, Nanny Ella listened in.
“Clara?”, Mrs. DeLune said her youngest daughter’s name with the utmost compassion only a mother could have.
Much to Mrs. DeLune’s dismay she could count the number of times she had spoken to her daughter since she had decided to leave the comfort of the family home.
Mrs. DeLune had sent Clara money whenever she could though Clara seemed to be being doing well on her own working in Italy.
“Mother”, Clara spoke through tears, “Mother are you there?”
“Yes, dear. What’s wrong?”
“I- I need to come home”
“Why? What’s wrong are you okay?”
“I just need a ticket, I’ll tell you when I get home . . . please . . .”
“Clara are you sure—“
Clara hung up on the other end; Martin began to stir in his sleep and Mrs. DeLune quietly placed the phone on the hook. She then began a quiet rampage to every airline get her daughter home.
She would not stand to lose her daughter again.
Thirty eight hours later Mr. and Mrs. DeLune watched from the foyer as a town car drove up the path of their Rochester home. Clarence was in Mrs. DeLune’s lap, Clara had yet to meet her newborn brother.
Mrs. DeLune was happy to see her daughter still wore the dye drop Hermes scarf she gave her to cover her scarred face, her hair fell in soft pin curls spilling out from underneath. She looked pale and sickly. Beneath her shades her eyes were dark and tired.
It became obvious that Clara had fallen terribly ill while abroad. She spent three days recovering in her room refusing to see a doctor.
One night, Mrs. DeLune listened from a distance as Clara had a particularly loud fight with her father. When the fight had ended Mrs. DeLune slipped in to comfort her daughter.
Mrs. DeLune watched the concern in Clara’s eyes which were now glossed over with tears, there was a fear and something that seemed to be soothed just by her mother’s presence.
Mrs. DeLune embraced her daughter, whispering comforting words. Clara calmed and spoke words to her mother that would forever turn her father against her. Mrs. DeLune however remained optimistic.
It appeared her daughter was safe, healthy and pregnant.
“Please, please don’t tell him”, Clara begged not wishing to fall even further out of grace with her benevolent father.
"it's okay, Clara, It's okay", was all her mother said.
Despite their best efforts, It was not long until mother and daughter could no longer keep Clara's pregnancy a secret.
Martin, who had been stressed in past months took ill words to what he now considered his difficult child. He yelled as expected and demanded information that not even his wife dared to ask. Clara refused to answer, simply asking her father to understand.
Clara took her father's cruel remarks in stride, and still she begged for forgiveness, for she had no one but her family, now. From that day forward to make amends Clara resolved to get back in her father’s graces.
Martin’s imcompassion soon became a permanent fixture in the DeLune household.
Tonight however,on this chaotic August night Martin followed his wife down the hall of their home praying for his sanity and the untimely birth of his first grandchild.
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Rosalie Emmeline Romano was born August 3rd at the DeLune household per Martin’s request to ensure no one would know the shame of the illegitimate child. The girl was given Mrs. DeLune's maiden name at Martin’s insistence.
When the new mother and daughter were reunited for the first time not a single member of the household could have understood Clara’s relief at the beauty of her daughter. Despite the terrible circumstances Clara absolutely fawned over the child at first, hoping to give her no more or less than she herself had.
“She is absolutly beautiful, Claudia. She has big bright eyes and her hair exactly like mine”, Clara said while speaking to her oldest sister over the phone.
“I’m glad”, Claudia returned , “I can’t wait to see her. . . and father”
“Rosalie loves music too, whenever I play my piano she falls right asleep, it’s adorable”
“That’s nice Clara, I should be up to visit soon”, Claudia’s voice was stilted not that her sister noticed.
Two weeks to the date Claudia and her husband Derek arrived at the DeLune household, while their driver ambled with all of Claudia’s bags Claudia ran up the steps to embrace her little sister.Claudia approached the white wicker bassinet to peer down at her niece for the first time.
She stumbled taking a step back almost collapsing into her husband; She turned towards her smiling sister.
Infact Clara had not lied, Rosalie was very much like her mother, she had her mother’s full smile and raven dark hair, the tips of which dusted her pure and deathly white skin, her eyes were very large and the most curious color of desert sand.
Claudia and Derek shared concerned glances as they watched Clara pick the child up.
“I told you Claudia isn’t she beautiful”
“Has she gone mad ?”, Claudia whispered in close gathering, “There is obviously something wrong with the baby . . .. .has no one told her ?”
Claudia looked to her mother, her Father and Ella who were sitting the living room.
Mr. DeLune looked up from his paper, shaking his head slightly at Claudia to silence her.
“Enough”, said Mr. DeLune taking down another drink, “This is a family matter and it will stay that way.”
And that way it stayed.
These words however concerned Ella the Nanny. Though she was just into her thirties she had taken care of numerous infants and there was infact something different about Little Rosalie.
Though Ella’s only charge was Clarence, she had begun to realize that Rosalie would sleep almost entirely through the day and only at night, like clockwork, would she cry for hours on end. Often waking up Clarence which in turn upset Martin.
One night, as usual Rosalie began to fuss after her mother fed her, Ella stood close by to offer help or a kind word. By the time Rosalie was put down Ella headed off to bed herself only to be awaken by the baby’s cry.
Clara and Ella nearly ran into each other in the hall.
“I can handle it”, said Ella, “you go rest"
“You’re not her Nanny”, Clara insisted, "Father wouldn't like it"
“You need some rest I won’t tell Mr. DeLune”
Ella took a deep breath and opened the door to the nursery, Rosalie was quiet almost as if she sensed the nanny. Still Ella wanted to check on her. She turned up the dimmer knowing the bright lights often hurt the child’s eyes.
Ella prepared herself for the babies oddly colored eyes, wishing they didn’t frighten her so much. Rosalie was like an angel in her bassinet looking up at the ceiling. Ella almost turned away when something bright and red caught her attention.
Getting closer she saw small drops of blood across Rosalie’s mouth, Her eyes now connecting with Ella the little girl smiled and cooed as if she took delight in frighten the nanny. Shaking, Ella reached down wiped up the blood no sooner had she disposed of it Rosalie began crying again.
Ella began to look for a cut, but didn’t see one.
“Is everything alright Ella ?”, Clara peeked into the room
“I-um- I , yes”
After that night Ella swore to keep to herself when it came to Rosalie, but she would more than occasionally notice a bloody tissue in the trash and a calm but shaken Clara leaving Rosalie's room at night.
During that time any guest visiting the DeLune household for one of their lavish parties or events would scarce know there was another child in their house.
Clara resumed her teaching and studies, making seldom if ever mention of her daughter and answering not one questions about the scars on her face.
As the years went on it became more and more difficult to ignore the first DeLune grandchild. No sooner could she walk and talk only one thing was for certain.
Rosalie was an absolute terror
As Rosalie’s fourth birthday drew near she now had 3 cousins to contend with, and 2 girls at that. A two year old from her Aunt Claudia and a baby and adopted 6 year old from her Aunt Clarice.
Very often Clara found Rosalie watching from the window as her cousins and uncle played during bright days, when she wasn't allowed outside.
To get attention Rosalie would make herself bleed with splinters or by falling down.Equally this lead to her terrible habit of biting her uncle when she didn’t get her way, which caused even Nanny Ella to chastise her.
Afterword she would begin to throw a tantrum or began fights with her uncle or cousins. Nearly every week Martin threatened to throw Clara and Rosalie out if she didn’t behave and occasionally mother and daughter would make long weekend trips to Connecticut to getaway.
More often than not Rosalie would throw tantrums in the car or whenever a stranger tried to speak to her, she wouldn’t eat when asked and would continue to cause a scene until she had reduced her mother to tears.
Despite all of her concerns Clara always attempted to keep a careful watch on her daughter, loving her as any good mother should.
During a particularly warm spring night they lay together in Rosalie’s new bed, Rosalie had begun rubbing her eyes as her mother read to her.
“ . . . she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs”, Clara continued to read, “. . .the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches. . . “
Rosalie had already fallen asleep before learning the fate of the young heroine. Clara kissed her daughter good night just before catching Martin’s contemptuous gaze by the door.
“Good Night, Rose”, she said turning out the light.
“’Night”, the sleepy girl managed before starting to dream again.
As the door closed behind her Clara smiled to herself, finding herself uncommonly at peace.
However that would not last
I wouldn’t let it.
The little family’s pain would be my new game and I could not wait to play.
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed That with the sun's love, in the spring
Becomes the Rose
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Author's Note
Remember that new decade I was talking about ? Well It's 2010's. Desert Sand Iris takes place in 2011. The title is a pun of Rosalie's iris's that are desert sand colored.