It was the
perfect Spring morning and Rose was working in her garden. Though hesitant to
embrace early retirement, she’d grown to love the serenity it offered. A gentle
breeze caressed her face and the golden sun beamed its welcome to her as she
pruned the bushes aligning the fence, taking care not to tarnish the delicate
pink blooms. Macy was chasing after a Monarch in the yard, the orange tabby
pouncing at anything that moved, and looked to be having the time of her life.
Rose stood back
to admire her work, when a splint of silver caught her attention. She knelt
down, dusting the fertilizer aside and unearthed a doorknob, realizing there
was an old wooden door planted in the mist of her roses.
‘Wait.’
‘Is that light coming from the keyhole?’
Rose couldn’t see
anything distinctive inside, but what she heard almost made her heart stop.
It was the voice
of a crying child.
Coming from
behind the door.
Rose clawed at
the soft earth, desperate to aid the poor soul buried in her backyard. She
didn’t think twice about slipping inside once she got the door open and found
herself at the top of a short narrow staircase. It didn’t matter that she was a
47-year-old woman, alone, bolting off into the unfamiliar.
Someone needed her.
Rose hurried
along and ended up in a dim hallway, tripping over something on the floor. She
picked it up, turning it over in her hands. It was a pair of swim bottoms
tangled in a bath towel with her name on it. She dropped the bundle and stood
slowly, her eyes meeting the gaze of the framed solemn faces of her brothers
and sisters along the wall.
An eerie sense of
nostalgia loomed as Rose realized that she was standing in her grandmother’s
house, the place her family lived after granny passed away because they were
evicted from their home in the city. And the whimpering voice she heard was her
own. It took everything in her to muster up enough courage to open the door of
her old bedroom, but it wasn’t where
she was that sent chills down her spine.
It was when.
Rose stood frozen
in the doorway, the familiar feeling of remorse washing over her at the sight
of her childhood belongings. It had to be the year she’d be starting eighth
grade, because her walls were still painted that awful shade of lime with
sample swatches piled all over her nightstand. The bedroom light was off, but
the closet offered a manageable view of 14 year-old Rosie laying in the fetal
position on the bed.
She stirred and
locked eyes onto present day Rose.
“Are you an
angel?”
Seeing no reason
to frighten the girl, Rose said, “Yes, Rosie. I’m an angel.”
Pain was apparent
on her tear-drenched face as Rosie tried to console herself, but it was of no
use. Her sobs overwhelmed her once more and she buried her eyes into the
pillow, clenching onto it for dear life. Rose swallowed hard and took a step
inside the room.
“What, uh… day is
it?”
When she didn’t
get a response, she eased over to the foot of the bed, sat down and put a
gentle hand of the girl’s arm.
“Please, sweetie,
I need to know.”
Rosie rolled onto
her back and a long trembling breath blew from her lips.
“Labor Day.”
Rose resisted the
urge to throw up. She had returned to the day that destroyed her innocence some
thirty-four years ago.
“Why?” Rosie
said, staring at the ceiling.
“Why what?”
“Why didn’t you
do anything? You saw what just happened, why didn’t you save me?!”
Rose felt her
breath get caught in her chest. “I—“
“HE RAPED ME!”
Rosie screamed, slamming her hands into the mattress. “He pinned me to the
floor, ripped off my clothes and… you didn’t do anything about it. What kind of
guardian are you?”
“I’m not your
guardian,” The gears in Rose’s mind cranked. “I’m the voice of faith. My name
is Hope.”
Rose reached out
to stroke the girl’s hand, but Rosie snatched it away. She closed her eyes,
praying for the right words to say.
“I couldn’t stop
him.” Rosie whispered. “I tried to fight, but he was too strong. Once he was
inside, I couldn’t even scream.” She gripped the comforter until her hands hurt.
“He was my friend, how could he do this to me?”
Tears streamed
from the corners of her eyes, running down her face to her ears and
disappearing into her hair.
“Who will want me
now?”
Rose kneeled down
beside her on the floor, her eyes welling up for her younger self.
“Rosie,” She took
a deep breath and spoke firmly. “Listen to me now. You are fearfully and
wonderfully made. No matter what happens to you, no matter what you think of
yourself, God has made you entirely perfect. You were created in HIS image, and
no man, woman, no one can take that away from you. You’re still precious, still
lovely, and still worth dying for.”
“I, I feel
disgusting.” Rosie whimpered. “Like I’ll never be clean again. I can’t trust
anyone, ever.”
“I’m going to
share something with you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.” Rose winked.
“I could get into real trouble upstairs, if you know what I mean.”
Rosie lay silent
for a moment.
“I can keep a
secret.”
Rose smiled. “I’m
going to tell you about the future. Your
future.”
Rosie turned her
head to face her angel, eyes wide. She nodded and Rose began.
“After tonight,
you’ll become a hermit. You’ll stick to yourself throughout high school, and
eventually become a social outcast, that is until you go to college.”
“Spellman?”
“Community
college. You won’t have the confidence to try out a four-year university. Then,
you’ll start working for an insurance company and stay there for ten years
until you meet an editor who will help you launch a career in public speaking
on financial topics around the country. You’ll make a lot of money and retire
early. You’ll never marry and have no children.”
“So it’s true.”
Rosie frowned. “I’ll end up alone because nobody will have me.”
“No.” Rose shook
her head. “You’ll end up alone because you convinced yourself that you weren’t
worthy of love.”
Rosie began to
sob again, covering her face with her hands. “It’s all my fault! I shouldn’t
have let myself be alone with him.”
“You couldn’t
have known this was going to happen. There was nothing you could do.”
“Why are you
telling me this? What good is knowing my future if I’m just going to be an old
cat lady one day?”
Rose chuckled.
“Funny you say that.”
“There is a cat, isn’t there? I knew it!”
“Sweetheart,
there’s still hope.”
“But you just
said—“
“You are more
powerful than you think.” Rose peeled one hand away from Rosie’s face and held
it. “You can grow in the knowledge that God loves you, and He has plans to
prosper you in ways you can’t imagine. Somewhere out there, there’s a boy who
God made just for you and you’ll experience God’s love in its deepest form
through a beautiful marriage and the promise of a family. If that’s what you
want. Or even if you decide not to get married, you life can be anything you
want it to be. But it’s up to you.” Rose kissed her hand and stood.
“Where are you
going?” Rosie propped herself on one side.
“I have to go
back now, but I don’t want you to forget what I told you.” Rose made her way to
the door.
“Wait!” Rosie
scrambled to the edge of the bed and grasped Rose’s hand. “Will I ever see you
again?”
Rose looked down
at her, tears escaping down her cheeks. “You will. I love you.”
Her legs felt
like lead, but somehow they carried Rose back down the hallway to the
staircase, everything growing dark behind her. As she climbed, she began to
sob. She had lived with this dark secret for over thirty years, never telling
another soul. Rose used to have so many dreams, but she let them all die
because she thought she didn’t deserve them, didn’t deserve to be happy. In
that moment, she realized how she had let it consume her. Approaching the light
of day shining into the tunnel from her garden, she resolved to make a change
and start living fully and freely. She would take back control over her life.
“There you are,
Rosie, I was looking for you.”
A handsome, tall
man in jeans and a t-shirt came strutting from around the house and wrapped her
in his arms.
“Beth just
called. They say they’re on the way to the hospital now. Time to meet Baby
Luke!” He brushed his lips against hers, kissing her deeply. “You’re finally a
grandmother.”
Rose stumbled
back and whipped her eyes to the plot beneath her feet. The soil lay
undisturbed, every flower in its proper place and not a door in sight. She
looked up at the man before her, heat rising to her cheeks.
“Daniel?” She
whispered.
“Yes, love?”
Somehow, Rose
knew his name. She knew he was her husband and they had had five kids together.
Three girls and two boys. She knew they had been married for twenty years and
she worked from home as a freelance writer. Everything over the last thirty
years washed over her and her legs gave out.
“Honey!” Daniel
reached out and caught her. “Are you okay?”
‘She did it.’
Rose thought.
‘She, I mean I,
no we. We did it.’
‘We changed the
future.’
