Chapter Three

Galen and Lorraine

Rose sipped on her third cup of coffee, ran her fingers through her shoulder length auburn hair and surveyed the living room. Her whole life was reduced to twelve boxes. She put her cup on top of a box and did a couple of stretches to ease the nagging pain in her back from packing nonstop.

Twelve boxes. This came out to two boxes for every decade of her life.
The truly amazing thing was that for years she’d been an uncontrollable packrat, saving photos, mementos that ranged from movie tickets to hand-written letters (and some of the letters she couldn’t even remember who the person who’d written them was anymore), memorabilia from trips she’d taken when she was just a child to the last trip she’d taken with Christopher.



Christopher. If anything had been a thorn in the side of their marriage it was her inability to toss things out and her lack of keeping it all neat. And the amazing knack she had of losing things, important and mundane. Christopher had the sensibilities of an accountant. “Everything in its place and a place for everything,” was one of his favorites. The only things he ever misplaced were his glasses, and together they’d search the house to find wherever he’d absentmindedly taken them off.



Rose picked up her cup and leaned against a tall box and wondered what her husband of 30 years would think of her now. Everything in her life was in its place, boxed away to begin a new chapter in her life. If he wasn’t already dead, the shock of this new version of his wife might just have killed him.



Ten years ago on an icy Valentine’s day, he’d jumped in the car because he’d forgotten to buy the single red rose he’d given her every year since they’d first met. He never made it home. The policemen who arrived at the door many long hours later told her it was quick and he suffered no pain. Could they be so sure? Or was this God’s way of letting Christopher off the hook so he could dump all the pain on Rose that day her world ceased to make sense. She mourned deeply for two months, withdrawing from her children and friends. she knew Emily tried her best to get her feelings out, but Rose knew if she did this, a floodgate of emotions would pour out and might bury her. After a few months of sleeping all day, not washing, barely eating or cleaning the house, she emerged and appeared fine to most people (although she suspected Emily knew better).



She’d never imagined a world without Christopher. He was her first boyfriend and they’d married when she was 20 and before she had a chance to know the world on her own. She finished college and by the grace of God and a lot of hard work, managed to get a scholarship to the University of Pennsylvania where she majored in journalism and later, a masters of fine arts degree. Three years later their twins, Jake and Jennifer were born and she threw herself into motherhood with a vengeance. Although not an organizer or an initiator, she was definitely a joiner and belonged to a top-notch mother’s group that not only was fun and educational for the children, but a total learning experience for the mothers. Whether it was simple crafts and cooking or lively discussions on life, faith and the arts, Rose felt herself totally fulfilled.



She free-lanced for local newspapers, women’s magazines and some travel magazines. Although brilliant, Christopher chose not to attend college but follow his father’s footsteps and work as an electrician, eventually running his own company. They were not rich, but quite comfortable and wanted for nothing.



The twins were very close and it wasn’t really surprising when they’d decided after graduating from college to find work in Japan as English teachers. Having one child thousands of miles away was hard enough but both of them leaving was mind numbing. Waving goodbye as their plane unceremoniously bore them away to a foreign, faraway land was the second hardest thing she’d had to endure.



She managed to keep busy with her writing and various clubs and organizations she belonged to. And, of course, she visited and lunched with Emily at least twice a week. She wasn’t sure exactly how the idea of a bed-and-breakfast had sprung up but it was one they both loved and grabbed at the instant it was mentioned. Perhaps it was the huge house that Emily lived in by herself and both of them complaining about taxes and the sameness of life’s routines.



She smiled as she taped the last box and looked at her neat, compact new life to be. What both of them really loved was this renewed chance of hope for two 60 year old women.