Sunsets (11 page)

“Your first wife?” Alissa teased. “The one who divorced you after one week?”

“Never been married,” Brad said. “Wren’s my sister. Her real name is Lauren. You remind me of her in some ways.”

“Wonderful.”

Alissa was relieved to be the next person in line. She planted a sweet kiss on Rosie’s cheek. “You’re beautiful,” Alissa said, grasping Rosie’s hand. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Thank you so much. I’m delighted you came.”

“And so am I,” Chet said, leaning over and kissing Alissa’s cheek. She quickly responded in kind. Then, as Chet noticed Brad, he looked over the top of Alissa’s head and said, “Brad, you came! Rosie, this is the young man who brought me home that day after the dentist.”

“So nice to meet you,” Rosie said, receiving Brad’s kiss on her cheek. “You were a lifesaver that afternoon. Thank you so much.” Turning to Alissa she explained, “Seems my Chet can’t hold his Novocain. It had the strangest effect on his sense of balance. This young man wouldn’t let Chet drive home. Why, it’s quite possible he saved my husband’s life!”

A warm glow of appreciation spread over the newlyweds and their hero, Brad.
Terrific!
Alissa thought.
All this guy needs is a bigger head
.

“Do you two know each other?” Chet asked.

Neither of them answered at first.

“We found out last night that we’re neighbors,” Alissa said.

“How wonderful!” Rosie said with a pleased smile. “When we get back from our honeymoon, we’ll have to have the two of you over.”

“If you’re going to serve more of that peach cobbler,” Brad said, “I’ll be there.”

“We’ll give you a call when we get back,” Chet promised.

“Have a great time,” Alissa said.

“Oh, we will!” they said in unison.

Alissa moved forward in the line, her emotions tangled up in a strange mixture. She was overjoyed for Chet and Rosie. At the same time, it bothered her that Brad seemed to have such close access to “her” Rosie and Chet. They were her treasured
new friends, and she didn’t want to share them with anyone, especially not Super Hero.

A
lissa held her plate of gourmet delicacies in one hand and the sacred bouquet, which she was holding on to for Rosie, in the other. With a discerning eye, she scanned the guests seated in semi-circles on the lawn. Brad was still in the food line.

Which one is Rosie’s best friend, Meg?
she wondered. A large woman with very short, white hair caught Alissa’s attention. The woman’s soft lavender dress was adorned with a diamond-like necklace and matching diamond stud earrings. As she ate, she observed with a smile all that was going on around her. To Alissa, the woman seemed the sort of adventuresome spirit who would have stood on a dock in Long Beach fifty years ago, checking out all the sailors.

“Pardon me,” Alissa said. “Is anyone sitting here?”

“No.” The woman smiled, showing her wide front teeth. “Please join me. I’m Meg. You must be the travel agent Rosie told me about.”

Alissa was surprised at first, but then, with only thirty or so guests, she was probably the only one Meg didn’t know. “Yes, I’m Alissa.” She extended her hand, and Meg took it firmly in hers for a friendly handshake.

“I’m Brad,” the sudden shadow said. Alissa had hoped he would find someone else to torture. He nodded at Meg and sat next to Alissa.

Alissa decided to try the technique that had worked so well on boys like Brad in junior high. She ignored him.

“I’ve heard Rosie speak of you, too,” Alissa said, crossing her legs and focusing on Meg. “She told me you wrote a letter to Chet letting him know where he could find Rosie after he came home from the war.”

“Oh, yes,” Meg chuckled. “And a lot of good that did. You do know what happened when he showed up on her doorstep in Houston, don’t you?”

“No,” Alissa said, leaning forward. She couldn’t wait to hear this.

“They hadn’t paid the electric bill.” Meg popped a grape in her mouth.

Alissa waited.

Meg made small circular motions with her free hand. “That’s why Rosie had all the candles lit in the living room. It was a hot summer night, and the front window and curtains were open. Joe had been asleep on the couch when Rosie came in the front room to check on him, to see if he was sober enough to eat some dinner.” She dropped another grape in her mouth and made Alissa wait for the rest of the story.

“Joe got up from the couch and was furious at her for waking him. He lunged at her but was too stupefied to do anything other than fall on her. She held him up and helped him back to the couch where he tumbled down, taking Rosie with him.”

Alissa had a difficult time understanding where all this was leading. “What about Chet?”

“Chet saw the whole thing from the taxi parked out front. In the dim light, it looked to him as if they were dancing by candlelight and joined in a romantic embrace on their way to the couch. He told the cab driver to take him back to the train station. That night he took the first train out of there, which happened to be going to Mexico City.”

“You can’t be serious!” Alissa said. “Didn’t he ever call her?”

“No. He thought she was in a loving, thriving marriage. Chet was a gentleman. He wasn’t about to break that up.”

“So did he settle in Mexico City?” Brad asked. “His Spanish is good.”

Alissa glanced over her shoulder and gave him a “go away” look.

Brad pulled away at her glare and said, “He ordered his milk shake in Spanish, okay?”

“He didn’t stay in Mexico City,” Meg explained. “He ended up in Brazil on an American civil service project. He built bridges or something. The money was good, and it seemed the only cure for his broken heart. Of course, Rosie was the one who needed a cure by this time. I begged her to come to California and live with Fred and me. I was afraid Joe was going to permanently hurt Rosie. And he finally did, you know.”

Alissa shook her head. “What happened?”

“Her left arm,” Meg said, raising her corresponding arm. “He broke it at the elbow, permanently damaging the nerves. Six months after the cast was off, she wrote to tell me her fingers on her left hand were going numb. I told her it was because of Joe. She wouldn’t believe it. And she wouldn’t leave him.”

Brad jumped in and asked, “Why not?”

“Things were different then. A promise was a promise. For better, for worse, you know. She stayed with him till the day he died.”

Alissa shook her head. “How long ago was that?”

“Oh, nearly thirty-five years ago by my guess.” Meg picked up a dainty triangle sandwich and put the whole thing in her mouth. “That’s when she finally came to California. She cleaned house for my cousin, Walter. He owned a huge orange grove in Redlands and had a big hacienda to go with it. Walter’s wife, Angelina, died when their fifth child was born, so Rosie took over. She loved those babies as if they were her own. Amelio was her favorite.”

Meg pointed with her manicured finger at the man with the graying widow’s peak hair. “That’s Amelio over there. He composes music for movies now. In Hollywood. Rosie was the one who taught him how to play the piano.”

“Excuse me,” Brad said. “I’m going back for more. Can I get you two ladies anything?”

“Something to drink would be nice,” Meg said. “Thank you.”

Alissa glanced at the plate in her lap. She hadn’t eaten a bite. She couldn’t think of eating or drinking while Chet was in Brazil and Rosie was raising someone else’s five children.

“No, thanks,” she said. She focused back on Meg, eager for the next morsel of the unfolding story. “Please go on. Did Rosie contact Chet in Brazil? She was free of Joe. Why didn’t she try to find Chet?”

“She did when she first came to California. I helped her. We wrote letters and made phone calls. But Chet had quit the engineering group, and no one seemed to know where he was. His parents were deceased. His brother never recovered from the war and was in a sanitarium. It was all dead ends.”

“Rosie must have been shattered.”

“Not completely. She had a spiritual experience in California at some kind of tent revival meeting. I’ll say this for her: when she made her commitment to Christ, she kept it the way she kept all her commitments—completely. She was in church every Sunday with those five kids in tow. She told me she prayed every night for Chet.”

Brad returned with a glass of punch for Meg and one for Alissa. Alissa accepted the unrequested glass from him without a thank you and asked Meg, “Where was he all this time?”

“Chet?” Meg took a slow sip and gave Brad a smile along with a thank you. “He was still in Brazil, of course.”

“What happened with Walter?” Brad asked, sitting back down.

“Walter?” Alissa said, glancing at Brad. “Who cares about Walter?”

“Oh, well,” Meg said, “I can answer that! Rosie cared about Walter. Or rather, Walter cared about her. He was sixteen years her senior, but a fine man in every way. Mind you, he was my cousin. Came from good stock.” Meg winked and took another sip of the punch. “My, this is lovely. Is there a hint of almond in this?”

Alissa took an obligatory sip. “Yes, perhaps. So, did Walter marry Rosie?”

Meg leaned back, her shoulders shaking as she chuckled. “He certainly tried to! I’ve never known a man to propose as many times as my cousin. She loved him dearly, but like she would love a favorite uncle or older brother. She turned him down, of course, always hoping one of her many letters to Chet would reach him and he would come riding up to the hacienda on a white stallion to save her. Oh, how that girl could dream.

“Of course,” Meg continued. “I couldn’t blame Walter for
falling in love with her. She was beautiful. So graceful, you hardly noticed the way her fingers were beginning to curl in on her left hand. It was as if all the pain from her years with Joe had evaporated. She ran that ranch, and she raised those kids and continued to do so after Walt was killed in that accident.”

Meg shook her head and took another sip of punch. “One of the ranch trucks overturned with a full load of oranges. He was gone before they got him to the hospital. The court awarded Rosie custody of the kids. Their deceased mother had no relatives living in the U.S., and none of Walter’s brothers wanted them. Amelio was in his first year of college, and Anita, the baby, was starting junior high. That’s Anita over there. She married the son of a ranch hand. He’s much younger, but look at her. She doesn’t look her age, does she? And look at that angel baby.” The little girl in the fairy princess dress stood patiently by her mother, nibbling on a strawberry. “Cristiana may be the only child they’re able to have, though. The birth nearly killed Anita.”

“Nice meeting you, Meg,” Brad said, suddenly standing, his empty plate in his hand. “Let me know when you’re ready to go, Alissa.”

Alissa found herself swallowing a smile. Why was it all men made quick exits whenever women began to talk about childbirth?

“You have to tell me,” Alissa said, turning her attention back to Meg, “what happened to Chet? What was he doing this whole time in Brazil? Why didn’t he receive Rosie’s letters or try to come looking for her again? Did he just give up?”

“I don’t think so,” Meg said thoughtfully. “People change, you know. By the time Walter died, Rosie had her hands full with those children. And then Martin entered the picture. Oh how he made her life a living nightmare!”

“Wait,” Alissa said, not ready to hear about Martin. “What
about Chet? What kept him in Brazil so long?”

“Oh, well, that’s easy. It was Hannah.”

Alissa sat back, not sure she wanted to know about some Brazilian floozy who had the audacity to make Chet forget about his Rosie. And hadn’t Rosie already gone through enough trials? Why did God send this Martin guy into her life?

“Auntie Meg,” a tall, tanned, middle-aged man said, stepping up and offering his hand to her. “You promised me a dance.”

Meg took his hand, and he helped hoist her from the chair. “Carlos, this is Alissa. Carlos is Rosie’s middle boy. He coaches at the high school in Redlands.”

“Nice to meet you,” Carlos said with a polite nod. “We better get on that dance floor before everyone else gets the same idea.”

Alissa had been so absorbed in the story she hadn’t paid attention to the portable dance floor behind her, nor had she noticed Rosie and Chet taking their first dance together. She looked down at her full plate. A strawberry was about all she could muster to lift to her mouth. For the first time since Chet and Rosie had invited her on this journey into their fifty-year love affair, Alissa was glad to take a break. She had so much to digest.

Glancing across the room, she noticed Brad standing by the table, engaged in conversation with Amelio, the composer. Alissa couldn’t imagine what they had in common, unless it was Brad’s famed bongo drum collection. Content to sit in her chair and watch the celebration go on around her, Alissa thought about Meg’s comment that Rosie had made a commitment to Christ and how Rosie had kept her commitment so completely. Alissa didn’t feel she could say the same thing about the promises she had made to God many years ago. So much had happened in her life. For some reason she felt she
had the right to straight-arm God and hold him at a distance.