
Table of Contents

Replacement Baby

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One
Replacement Baby

Book One of The London Rose Mysteries

by

Mary Ann Smart
Copyright

Copyright © 2015 by Mary Ann Smart

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Prologue

London, England

1977

There, there, now, Rose," spoke the soft voice.

A woman dressed in a plain grey dress sat on a shady bench in a large London park. A simple baby carriage rested beside her. Every so often, she looked up from her book to peer into the pram and softly coo and comfort the infant inside.

This woman was a widow, her husband having passed away nearly one year before while flying an airplane during a practice for the Royal Air Force. She leaned back on the wooden bench and sighed, the cool Autumn air brushing her face. She bent over once more to glance at her sleeping baby, who had pale cheeks and fine blond hair, and was wearing a cheerful yellow dress and bonnet.

She removed a white handkerchief from her pocket. The handkerchief initials HJ were embroidered in one corner. HJ, Harry Jennings. Her husband. He had carried this piece of lace edged cloth in his pocket on their wedding day two years before. She clutched the wadded handkerchief in her left hand and stroked her silver wedding band, still clinging to her finger. She sighed and opened her hand to gaze on the handkerchief again.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew down on her and overtook the handkerchief, causing the square of cloth to leave her hand and dance down the sidewalk. The tall, slender woman jumped to her feet and chased after it, down the hill, and over to a small pond where it finally got caught in the brambles of a holly bush.

The woman snatched the handkerchief up and began the walk up the hill, back to her sleeping baby. She approached the baby carriage and peered down to see that sweet, sleeping face. Instead, she gazed upon the white lining and the knitted yellow blanket. The baby carriage was empty.
Chapter One

Brooklyn, New York

1995

Lisa shook the wrinkles out of her full black skirt and retied the hot pink sash that cinched her waist. She gazed at herself in the mirror for five minutes, adjusting her glimmering cubic zirconia necklace and combing her light brown curls. I finally look like a grown woman. It's about time, she thought to herself, feeling pleased. Smiling into the mirror, and admired matching cubic zirconia earrings with her hot pink painted nails, which matched her dress. She flicked one of her earrings with her fingernail.

"Lisa, I'm running over to the grocery store," her mother called from downstairs. "Don't go anywhere."

"Okay, Mother!" Lisa shouted downstairs absentmindedly, tugging at her neckline. She twisted a tube of pink lipstick and smoothed it over her lips. "Perfect," she said to herself. She powdered her nose to cover up some of the brown freckles, which dotted it. With her new look, she was certain that she would have the attention of all the guys at the night club. At least, that was what she was hoping for. Tonight it mattered that she had the appearance of a grown woman, because in the evening was her eighteenth birthday party.

Her mother had purchased her this new dress at Macy's, just for the occasion. It hugged her figure and featured a deep neckline. The dress fit her in ways which were unlike any other dress she had ever owned. I'm shocked that Mother is letting me wear this, but I won't complain, she thought. Then she glanced down at the shoes on her feet.

"Hideous," she mumbled aloud. The shoes, thick and clunky Mary Jane's, complete with a strap across the top of each foot, stared up at Lisa, glaringly ugly. These were the shoes that were part of her school uniform.

Crinkling her nose, Lisa hopped onto her bed and lay down on her stomach. She picked up the telephone and dialed. The phone rang three times before she heard the voice of her friend, Kim, answering.

"Hello?" Kim chirped.

"Hi, Kim!" Lisa replied with an upbeat tone. "I'm calling to see what you are wearing tonight."

"Probably my new green dress," she answered absently. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Lisa responded. "Just curious. Oh, and I wanted to ask you, what size shoe do you wear? I couldn't remember."

"An eight, why?" Kim asked.

"Darn," said Lisa. "I'm wondering if I could borrow a pair, but I wear sevens. Oh well. Hey, have you heard from any colleges yet?"

Lisa glanced at the long, white envelope sitting on her dresser.

"Nothing yet," Kim told her. "But I don't really care. I'm just applying to make my parents happy, anyway."

"Well, you sure are lucky that your parents want you to go," Lisa told her friend. "My mom keeps telling me I'm too young to go off to college."

"Well, I guess some parents are just more overprotective than others," came Kim's unsympathetic reply.

"I know, I know," Lisa said with annoyance. "But I've graduated from high school and I'm eighteen. So what's the big deal?"

"Well, your mom just cares about you," Kim said, annoying Lisa further. "Parents are just like that sometimes."

Kim loved to give wise advice, but it got on Lisa's nerves.

"I guess," Lisa said to satisfy Kim.

"Did you tell your mom about your acceptance letter yet?" Kim asked.

"No, not yet," Lisa said, glancing back toward the letter on her dresser. "I want to tell her soon, but I'm worried. My mom just freaks out sometimes."

"Oh come on, Lisa," Kim said with an emphatic tone. "She's just your mom. All moms freak out. You need to be honest with her about it."

"Yeah, I guess I need to just go for it," Lisa replied. "Well, you need to make sure to call me as soon as you hear back from your first college. See you tonight."

"Okay, see you!" Kim chirped. "Seven o' clock, right?"

"Yep, seven!"

"Oh, Lisa? I forgot to tell you," Kim added. "You got something in the mail from that nice lady who cleaned your house years ago. Probably the birthday card she mails to my house every year. I'll bring it tonight."

"Okay, thanks! Bye, Kim!"

"'Kay, bye."

Lisa hung up the phone.

Lisa's thoughts drifted to Mrs. Harrison. Mrs. Harrison had been their housekeeper several days a week, and often stayed with Lisa when she was a little girl and her mother would travel for work. Lisa loved the time that she spent with the older woman. Three years ago, Mother fired Mrs. Harrison after she caught her taking Lisa to church. Mother thought that church was for the foolish and weak-minded, and she often said so. But even after Mrs. Harrison was dismissed and moved away, she always mailed Lisa a birthday card with $25.00 inside. She sent it to Kim's house so Mother would not find out and get upset.

Staring at her ugly shoes again, Lisa turned her attention back to ways to solve her predicament. I've got more than enough birthday money saved up to buy shoes, but Mother will make a fuss if I try to go anywhere. She stood up and stared in the mirror.

Lisa's stomach began to grumble and she realized she had not eaten lunch and it was almost four o' clock. Not wanting to mess up her make-up or get spill anything on her new dress, she opted for a chocolate bar she had purchased on her way home from school the week before. Mother didn't like her to eat candy, so Lisa always shoved chocolate bars in the back of the cabinet that held the plates and glasses. Candy, foods high in sodium, and fatty foods were banned in the house. Mother was a bit of a health nut.

Stuffing the candy wrapper in a brown paper bag, she pushed it down it into the trash can. Have to hide the evidence, Lisa thought with a mischievous smile. She leaned on the kitchen counter to eat. The surface seemed to sparkle in the afternoon sunlight, but this was probably because Mother scrubbed it with bleach every other day. She decided to head back upstairs after a minute or two to finish her treat. Walking down the hallway upstairs while eating her candy bar, Lisa noticed that her mother's door was opened about an inch. This was unusual because Mother always kept her door locked. Lisa could not remember ever going in there by herself. She had seen inside from the doorway a few times when Mother in the room, and that was all.

I wonder if Mother's black high heels would fit me, she wondered, suddenly having the idea. Again, she stared down with disgust at the black, boxy Mary Jane's.

Pausing at the door, Lisa began to think, nervousness creeping into her mind. Should I do it? Should I go in? Maybe Mother won't even notice if her black high heels are missing for the evening. I'll put them right back when I'm done. But what if she recognizes them on my feet? My skirt is long, so maybe she won't see. Taking a deep breath, she paused. I should just do it.

Seizing the opportunity, Lisa grasped the doorknob. Pushing the door open, Lisa rushed into her mother's bedroom, eager to grab the shoes before she got back home from the grocery store. She dashed across the worn, but polished, wood floors of their narrow Brooklyn townhouse. The simple furniture was dust free, just like everything else in the house. She opened the closet door and began rifling through the shoes, which all sat in a neat and tidy row on the floor. Mother was a clean freak.

Leaning on her hand, Lisa reached toward the back of the closet. Suddenly, the floorboard that her hand was leaning on gave way and her palm began falling. The floorboard lifted up, revealing a small metal box underneath the floor. Curious, Lisa reached in to take it out. How weird. Why is a box hidden under the floor?

She sat down on the floor and opened the lid. Inside rested a small stack of old, yellowed newspaper clippings and a lemon colored lacy baby's gown and bonnet resting on top. Lisa set aside the baby clothes and lifted the first newspaper clipping to her face.

LONDON INFANT MISSING, the headline read. The short article went on to describe the baby girl's appearance and dress, as well as the state of the distraught mother, who discovered her infant child missing from her pram while they visited Green Park. Who is this missing baby? Why did someone bother to save these and hide them so well? Lisa asked herself.

The second newspaper clipping had more of the same information, though it seemed to have been published later. Once again, she read the description of the baby's clothing. Suddenly, she straightened up and her eyes grew wide. The outfit described appeared to be just like the little yellow baby dress and hat in the box. Bright yellow. Lace. Bonnet. Could it be the same outfit? Had kidnappers lived in this house before her mother purchased it years before? How crazy! Lisa thought, a thrill of excitement filling her. Maybe there were real kidnappers living in this house!

Even more curious now than before, Lisa shuffled through the papers, searching for a date. Then, at last, she spotted a date, in the right hand corner of a clipping. November 18th, 1977. Lisa thought for a moment. "This is weird," she whispered to herself. "My mom has lived in this house since 1970. She's told me that before."

She lifted another article, dated November 3rd of that same year. This one had a small, square photograph of a baby with thin, pale hair, light eyes, and small, rounded cheeks. The information in the article contained more of the same. Infant Rose Garnet Jennings disappeared from her baby carriage while in a London park. Her mother was sick with worry. Anyone with information regarding the disappearance of the infant should contact Scotland Yard. There was a $5,000 reward.

An article near the bottom of the box featured a black and white photograph of a tall, slender woman with soft curls and light eyes. She held a small white bundle. She wore a slight smile on her face and a smart looking dress. According to the short article, this woman was Loretta Grigsby Jennings, the mother of the missing child. Her husband had been a military pilot, died in a training accident not long before.

Lisa rifled through a few more newspaper articles, skimming each one. The most recent one was from January of 1978. At the bottom of the box was a yellowed photograph with a white frame around it. The picture was of a baby with enormous cheeks and thick, crow black straight hair. The baby had dark, staring eyes.

Lisa examined the photograph. This was clearly not the baby in all of the newspaper clippings. Who was this baby? What was the reason for this photograph of a different baby being in the same box with the newspaper clippings about the kidnapping? She flipped the picture over to find a scrawling, yet familiar-looking, handwritten note. Lisa Elise Porter, born June 15th, 1977.

"This is my name and my birthdate," Lisa mumbled in a shocked tone. She flipped the photo over in her hand and examined it again.

This is me? Lisa thought with curiosity. This is my name and my birthday. But what about the baby's dark hair and dark eyes? This baby looks nothing like me. It makes no sense. She began thinking of photographs she had seen of herself as a baby and toddler. Now that she thought of it, the only one she could think of was a photo taken when she was probably one year old. In it, she wore a white dress and sat propped up on a stool, a hand behind her back. Her curls had been pale and her eyes light. The photo sat in a pewter frame on the fireplace mantel downstairs. In the picture, she looked nothing like the baby in the small photograph she held in her palm.

Downstairs, a door slammed. Mother is home! Lisa thought frantically. In a frenzy, she scooped up the newspaper clippings and stuffed them inside the box, along with the photograph with her name scribbled on it. She pressed the baby outfit in as well on the top of the messy pile. Her hands shaking, she shoved the box down under the floorboard and slammed it shut. Completely forgetting about the high heels, she closed her mother's closet door and dashed out of her bedroom. She ran, panting, out of the room and turned a corner in the hall, almost ploughing into her mother.

"Why is your face all red, Lisa?" Her dark haired mother asked, her voice stern. She stared at Lisa with a scowl. "And why are you breathing so heavy? Did you go out while I was gone?"

"I... I... uh... yes, I did," Lisa stammered. "I'm sorry, I should've told you I was going out. I just went for a walk." Her gaze dropped to the floor so as not to give away her lie.

Her mother grabbed her wrist and twisted it, pulling Lisa close to her. She held her for a few moments, and then stuck her face just inches from Lisa's. "You'd better start listening to my rules, or that party of yours will be canceled. It was against my better judgment to even have a party for you, but because of your high marks in school this year and because of your graduation and 18th birthday, I thought I would be generous."

"Yes... yes, Mother, I'm sorry! Ouch! Please let go!" Lisa begged as her wrist began to throb.

"No going out without permission, Lisa," Mother growled.

Lisa nodded, agreeing. Her mother released her and Lisa turned to rush away down the hallway and into the small bathroom. She shut the door behind her and sat down on the cold black and white tiles, hugging her legs. She began crying, something she rarely did. Her heart was still pounding.

Why is my heart beating so fast? She asked herself. Her head began spinning. Her wrist appeared red and aching. She reached up to the sink faucet with her other hand and turned on the water. The cool liquid flowed down into her palm. She patted her face with her wet hand. She grabbed a towel to dab her face, wanting to erase any evidence of tears.

"Tears are a sign of weakness," Mother always said. "Only babies cry. Crying lets others know that you lack strength." By the age of five-years-old, Lisa rarely cried. Her mother's words always came to her when she felt the urge to weep. "No crying," Lisa would tell herself, over and over again as a little girl. "No crying. Crying is for babies."

Lisa's mind was bursting with thoughts and questions about what she had discovered under the closet floor. The newspaper clippings. The picture of the baby that had her exact name and the same birthday, yet did not resemble her at all. Her own hair was not dark, and her eyes weren't, either. From down the hallway, Lisa could overhear her mother muttering about what a terrible daughter she was.

Lisa listened as her Mother clomp down the stairs. A door slammed downstairs, and then Lisa heard some cursing. After that and for several minutes, there was nothing but silence. In the silence, Lisa became lost in her thoughts. A strange sense of realization began to well up inside her chest. She attempted to push away the feeling that she was somehow connected to the box full of photographs and newspaper clippings. Doubts filled her mind. But still, the idea that the box was not there by coincidence would not go away.

"Lisa? Lisa! Get down here now!" Her mother's voice sounded sharp and cold, as it always was, as it called from downstairs.

"I'm not Lisa Elise," she whispered, the idea finally sinking in. She looked nothing like the baby with her name. But who could she be? And what happened to the dark haired baby in the photograph? And then what of all the newspaper clippings of the pale haired baby?

"Lisa!" Her mother yelled as she pounded on the bathroom door. Lisa sprang to her feet to prepare to face this cold woman who collected newspaper clippings of the pale haired baby, missing from a London park.

"I'm coming, Mother," Lisa said bitterly, her voice quivering. She wiped her face with the back of her hand and gripped the doorknob. She walked past her mother and down the hallway to her bedroom to fix her makeup, not looking back as her footsteps echoed on the bare walls.
Chapter Two

There was an icy silence as Lisa and her mother drove across town in the cab. Though they sat beside one another, there was no acknowledgement between them. The cab stopped in front of the canopy at the Fifth Street Gala Nightclub, where Lisa's eighteenth birthday party was being held. A doorman opened the cab door and Lisa stepped out, bathed in light from the bright windows. Ignoring her mother, she walked up the steps and into the building. A man in a tuxedo took her shawl and led her down a long hallway to a large, open room. A sizable live band played and several couples danced. It was an old fashioned place, the kind that Mother had gone to when she was a teenage girl. Mother had told Lisa this several times since planning the event.

The place had a certain old fashioned charm to it. It was not the type of location Lisa would have chosen, but the place was a bit of a novelty, with the live band and waiters in starched tuxedos.

The man in the tuxedo guided her to a long table, covered in a white tablecloth with a cardstock sign marked "Reserved." Three girls in brightly colored dresses, their hair curled and hair-sprayed, sat at the table. Kim had been invited, as well as Christina and Crystal. They all sat in a row at the table. The three girls were Lisa's friends from school. Not close friends, because Lisa didn't fully trust them. It was rare that Lisa opened up to anyone. But she talked to them more than other girls at school, and they always sat together at lunch every day during their senior year. She had once been close friends with two boys at school, Tim and Ed, but her mother had seen the three of them walking together one day after school. After much arguing back and forth, Lisa was ordered not to speak to them again. Mother did not want Lisa hanging out around guys.

"Oh, you look gorgeous!" Crystal exclaimed in her high voice, faking enthusiasm.

Yes, I do look good, but you don't think so, Lisa thought. She rolled her eyes. Crystal never complimented anyone and really meant it. At least, she did not compliment anyone but herself. Besides, Crystal talked about almost everyone behind her back.

"Oh, this place is so cool!" Christina stated, waving her hand toward the band and the dancers. "I feel like I'm back in time."

"Yeah, like a time warp," Crystal agreed. "Sometimes I stay up late and eat chocolate bars and popcorn when I can't sleep. The only thing on TV at that time is old I Love Lucy reruns. They went to these types of places back in those times."

"It's really a neat experience," Kim piped up, trying to put a more positive spin on the party location.

Lisa felt herself blushing. The novelty of the old fashioned place was quickly wearing off.

"Oh, yes, I selected it just for Lisa," Mother said, a forced smile plastered on her face. Her lips were red and her dark hair was pinned back tightly. Her hair had lines of grey running through it, like the marbling on a piece of meat.

The girls began chattering back and forth about each other's clothes and hair and makeup. No one seemed to notice that Lisa was hardly speaking a word. Steaming plates with London broil, boiled vegetables, and mashed potatoes came out. Lisa ate in silence, and still scarcely a word was spoken to her. All of her friends were just talking amongst themselves. Great, no one speaks to me at my own birthday party, she thought, hurt.

She took this time to think about the newspaper clippings. Who was that missing baby? Why were all the clippings in the box and hidden under the floor? What happened to the missing infant? Was she ever found, dead or alive?

"Oh, Lisa, look!" Kim cried, pointing. Lisa's gaze followed the direction of Kim's finger. A tall, three layered cake covered in white frosting with pink roses sat on a platter in the arms of a waiter. On it were eighteen blazing candles. The man brought the cake to her, and suddenly the band began to play and everyone in the room sang.

Lisa blushed at all the attention. She took a deep breath and leaned over the cake. She blew as hard as she could, and to her surprise, every single candle was extinguished.

"Happy birthday, Lisa!" Her friends exclaimed, clapping and screeching.

"What did you wish for?" Christina inquired.

"Can't tell," said Lisa. "If I tell, it won't come true."

The three girls nodded in understanding and groaned a long and disappointed "Oh." Their waiter sliced pieces of thickly frosted cake and placed them on delicate china with gold edges.

"You can tell me your wish," Mother said, leaning over to whisper.

Lisa smiled. You won't hear a word from me. Just then, a tall, cute guy wearing a sharp black and white tuxedo approached her.

"Care to dance, birthday girl?" he asked, his hand outstretched.

Lisa glanced at her mother, whose mouth was gaping. "Of course!" she replied with enthusiasm, getting up from her chair.

Suddenly a hand gripped her wrist, hard. "Don't you dare," her mother whispered in her ear, pulling her back down to her seat. "You are too young," she said sharply after the man had turned away. Seeing an opportunity, Crystal leaped from her chair and whisked the young man away.

"Some girls aren't allowed to dance with guys yet." Lisa could overhear Crystal's shrill voice above the music, mocking as it always was. She then followed her comment with a burst of laughter. Lisa knew her cheeks were turning red and she stared down at her hands.

"I'll just stay and chat with you," Kim reassured Lisa.

Lisa smiled, feeling comforted by Kim's efforts. Kim usually kept her gossip to a minimum and she was the least self-absorbed of her three friends. Lisa didn't feel like she could trust Kim completely, but she could more than Christina and Crystal.

Kim, Christina, and Lisa ate their cake, while Mother declined her slice. She held up her hand when the waiter placed the plate in front of her, indicating to him that she didn't eat desserts.

When Mother got up to use the restroom, Kim slipped the card from Mrs. Harrison to Lisa, who quickly read it, took out the cash, and stuffed it all into her purse before Mother returned.

Kim did stay and talk for a while, but soon Lisa's two other friends had been snatched up by young, good looking dance partners as well. Lisa sat in silence beside her mother, staring at her friends as they twirled across the floor in the arms of their attractive partners. She frowned, feeling like a child.

Lisa stood up. "I need to use the restroom," she said to her mother. She navigated down the halls until she found a small powder room. She stared at herself in the mirror. Light brown, curly hair. Light green eyes. Freckles. No, this was not the baby in the photograph with the name Lisa Elise Porter scribbled on the back. She looked nothing like that baby. Who am I really? She wondered.

"I need to find out," she whispered. "Somehow, I need to figure out who I really am." This was her birthday wish.
Chapter Three

Back at their brownstone building, Lisa and her mother climbed the stairs.

"Aren't you going to thank me for the party?" Mother asked, perturbed.

"Thank you for the party," Lisa mumbled obligingly.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," her mother said, suddenly sounding cheerful, as if there had been no tension the whole night.

Lisa walked into her room and took of her shoes and nylons stockings.

"Lisa!" Her mother called sharply from down the hall. Habit kicking in, Lisa rushed toward her mother's voice. She found the tall woman standing at the door to her closet, staring at the floor.

Lisa's heart sunk and she was sure she felt her skin turn pale.

"Were you looking for something in my closet?" Mother spoke the words icily.

"Uh... uh... yes, Mother," Lisa said, trying to keep her voice from quivering. "I was just wanting to borrow your shoes. I'm sorry. I kicked a few other shoes around and I guess I left a mess. I'll clean it up."

"Shoes?" Mother asked with suspicion.

Is she getting suspicious? She knows about the box. She has to know. She was the one who placed it there. She had to be the one who put it there. It's the only thing that makes sense.

"Yeah, but I decided not to. Hey, Mother?" Lisa said, trying desperately to change the subject. "Can you please help me out of this dress? I'm having some trouble with the zipper."

Mother nodded and the two went to Lisa's room, muttering about how Lisa was a slob and how she messed up her neatly organized shoes. As her mother unzipped her and unfastened the hooks, Lisa glanced out the window. The window in her bedroom faced the street. Suddenly, she had an idea.

"Mother, I looked out the window a few minutes ago and I noticed a weird looking guy with a brown baseball cap and a dark jacket standing under the tree outside. I thought it was kind of strange because it's pretty hot outside to be wearing a jacket. And it's also weird that he's looking in the windows." She glanced back at her mother to see her reaction.

Her mother's face tensed up. She snatched up a flashlight, which sat on Lisa's desk. Then she darted to the bedroom door without a single word.

She stopped in the hallway and peeked her head back into Lisa's room. "Stay upstairs," she said. "I'll go look."

When she heard her mother clomp down the stairs, Lisa grabbed a notebook and pen and dashed down the hall. She shut her mother's door and locked it. If her mother came back before she finished, she could say that she was scared so she locked herself in the room. Lisa's room and the bathroom had no locks. Mother's room was the only one upstairs that had a lock on the door.

The lifted the floorboard and snatched out the box. She opened it and removed everything, and then began placing the items in the same order she remembered them being when she first found the box. She neatly placed the baby photograph near the bottom, and then stacked the newspaper clippings one by one until they were in a tidy pile. As she stacked, she jotted down some notes. Green Park. London. Loretta Grigsby Jennings. Rose Garnet Jennings. October, 1977. Finally, she held the soft baby bonnet and dress in her hands. What if these are mine? She wondered. Could I really be Rose Garnet Jennings? Just then, the heavy front door slammed downstairs. Lisa placed the baby clothes in the box and closed the lid. She laid the box under the floorboard and closed it. She snatched up her notebook and pen and jumped to her feet, hurrying out of her mother's room as she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Glancing quickly at the stairs as she scampered to her bedroom, Lisa saw Mother. But to her relief Mother did not see her. Mother was looking down at the stairs as she walked and did not lift her eyes until after Lisa got to her room. Lisa closed the door and thrust the notebook under her mattress, peering her head out into the hall.

"Is everything okay, Mother?" She asked. "Did you find him?"

"No," her mother said with annoyance. "And I looked everywhere. I even walked down the street both ways. You be sure to tell me if you see him again, though."

"Yes, Mother, I will," Lisa promised.

"Now go to bed. Good-night." Her mother walked down the hall toward into her own bedroom, muttering about dirty, good for nothing prowlers. Lisa listened as Mother's door closed and she turned the lock.

* * *

Lisa woke up hours later with a headache. She had slept fitfully all through the night. In her dreams, a tall, dark haired figure snatched a baby, dressed in yellow, from her mother's loving arms. Then Lisa had dreamed of her own childhood as a little girl growing up in a cold, lonely house with sharp words and a distant mother.

Lisa stretched out in her bed. Her mind became flooded with ideas. Am I baby Rose? Am I the kidnapped baby? Is it possible? Could it really be? Lisa thought back to her mostly empty childhood. Growing up, she had read novels, like the Ramona Quimby series and Little Women. The families in these stories were steered by loving parents. Those parents always took an interest in their children. As a school age girl, her mornings and afternoons spent at school had been pleasant enough. There were kind and encouraging teachers and challenging work. After school, Lisa would frequently come home to an empty house because Mother often travelled for work. Three days per week, Mrs. Harrison would be at home waiting. Mrs. Harrison did light chores, such as dusting the fireplace mantle and bookshelves, and making Lisa's bed. She was kind-hearted, and on the days when she worked, she would serve Lisa milk and cookies after she got home from school. She would ask Lisa all about her day, all about her teachers and classmates and homework. This was something Mother never did.

Mother was often traveling abroad for work. When she was not traveling, she usually worked late into the evening. Mother was a secretary of some sort with a door-to-door sales company. At night, after Mrs. Harrison left, the men would often come to the house. Sometimes two, three, or more men would ring the doorbell once night had fallen. They would gather in the front room, talking in low voices with Mother. They each carried a briefcase, and inside were black boxes of all shapes and sizes. Lisa would sometimes notice them stacked up on a table in the room.

Lisa knew all this because on occasion Mother would call her into the room, as if to show off her little girl like a prize-winning racehorse. The men would pinch her cheek and quiz her on her sums or her spelling words. These strangers frightened Lisa, so she would always recite the requested facts with obedience. Then she would go upstairs and sit at her window until she saw them leave. When they departed, she would breathe a sigh of relief. Those guys just seemed creepy to her, but she never could explain why.

Mother always told Lisa that she worked with these men. When Lisa asked about the black boxes, Mother told her that they were door-to-door salesmen and that the boxes were filled with merchandise. It did seem strange to Lisa, but she was always too scared to look in the boxes or ask more questions.

When Mother was asleep and the men were gone, Lisa would sometimes stay up late reading or looking at the large atlas until two o' clock in the morning or later. Lisa was not an avid lover of reading, but she did find solace and comfort in those late nights. She enjoyed being in her mother's office, which held several full bookcases.

She still crept into the office at night on occasion, but not as often as when she was a little girl. The escape, which was provided by reading, seemed less appealing as she got older. Now, she desired real escape. She longed to explore the world, or at least to leave New York for a while.

In Mother's home, Lisa felt trapped. The woman's coldness used to hurt Lisa, but now it mostly aggravated her. She longed to have a parent she could talk to. Lisa had asked about her father on several occasions, but her questions always made Mother angry. She would snap that he ran off and died when she was a baby. Mother would always command Lisa not to ask about her father anymore. Still, Lisa was often curious to know more about who he was.

Lisa glanced outside. It was still dark. In the moonlight, she could identify the hands of her clock. It was a quarter 'til five in the morning. She lay her head on her pillow and tucked her body further under the cool white sheet, bathed in moonlight, while she pondered her future. I need to tell Mother that I'm going to Boston for school. I've got to tell her. I've got to get over my fear and hesitation and just tell her the truth, Lisa decided. What've I got to be afraid of? Sure, she'll freak out. But now I'm eighteen and I can make my own decisions.
Chapter Four

Good morning, Mother!" Lisa exclaimed, almost skipping into the kitchen. Her mother sat at the small kitchen table, a plate of toast in front of her and a newspaper in her hand.

"You seem happy. You had a good time last night?" Her mother commented with no emotion.

"Yes, it was great, just great," Lisa said cheerfully. "But 've got some good news." She took a deep breath. "Mother, I applied for college a couple months ago and I got accepted! It's Simmons College in Boston. I'm going to study to become a social worker and—"

"Absolutely not," Mother snapped, interrupting Lisa. It was evidence that she was flustered. "You know nothing about the world. You can't just go off on your own. You are only eighteen, Lisa. Why do you need to go off to Boston? Is this house and the food I feed you not good enough?"

"No," Lisa disagreed, tension creeping into her voice. "It isn't that at all. I appreciate all you've done for me. But I'm done with high school and I'm a legal adult, so now I need to go on to the next thing. Mother, I got this acceptance letter in the mail a few weeks ago." She held up the envelope. "I think I'll get a job this summer to save up for an apartment there. Maybe an office job or something like that."

Her mother's eyes grew wide and her mouth hung open. She reached her arm out and snatched the envelope from Lisa's hand. "Are you ignoring me now, Lisa? You are far too young. I just told you that you were too young." She ripped open the letter and began reading it.

"No, Mother, I'm not ignoring you," Lisa said slowly. "I'm a grown woman now, and I'd like to have a change in my life."

"Why didn't you tell me that you were applying to colleges?" Mother asked, her voice dripping with anger. "Why are you so sneaky?"

"I'm sorry," Lisa apologized, not really meaning it. "But like I said, I'm grown and I need a change."

"Nonsense!" Mother cried. "You aren't grown yet. Don't speak of it again, Lisa. Besides, a woman does not need to go to college. For centuries, women did not go to college and they were just fine. You know how to read and write and how to do simple math. That's all you need in life. College is just a waste of time and money."

"Mother, what if I want to be something besides a housewife?" Lisa asked. "We live in a modern world now. This isn't the 1960s."

"Housewife? Are you getting married now, Lisa?" Mother's voice had a tone of annoyance.

"No, Mother, I'm not getting married," Lisa replied with sarcasm. "But I want an education for a specific job. That job is to be a social worker."

"If you needed a job because you had no food or place to stay, then you could go get one at the employment agency without any college education." Mother's voice firm, she glared at Lisa. "But you are a lucky girl. I feed you and clothe you. So you can just stay right here."

Angrily, Lisa stormed out of the room. She stomped up the stairs, brooding. When she got into her bedroom, she threw herself on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. Sobbing, she felt helpless.

"No crying, no crying," she told herself. Taking a deep breath, Lisa sat up in her bed and walked over to her desk. She plopped down on the swivel chair to think of a plan, staring at the shelf above her twin sized bed. It held little souvenirs which Mother had picked up for Lisa when she traveled for work. Mostly, Mother went to England, but she occasionally went to other European countries. Two summers ago, Mother even took Lisa with her to Spain for a week.

On the shelf, in the very middle, sat a metal Big Ben pencil sharpener. Next to it was the black and red fan, which Lisa had chosen when she went to Spain. Next to that sat was a blue and white ceramic pair of Dutch shoes, as well as a glass Eiffel Tower. A small china tea cup with red and pink roses from England sat beside a tiny ceramic red Double Decker bus. There was a miniature Cuckoo clock from somewhere in the Alps and a wooden Neuschwanstein Castle. The last item on the shelf was a thimble with Queen Elizabeth II's face painted on it.

Except for Spain, these are places that I've only dreamed about. Lisa reflected on the tiny items on the shelf. I do want to see the world. I want to explore and be free. But Mother won't even let me go to college a few hours away. Am I going to be trapped here forever?

Lisa lifted the china teacup and examined it. She loved the gold edges and the way that it felt cool in her hand. More than any other place, Lisa had always wanted to visit England. She had often found herself flipping to the map of the British Isles when she was looking in the atlas. She carefully placed the teacup back on the shelf and picked up the red bus. Wiping dust off of it, she put it back and placed the thimble on her finger and then dusted off the Big Ben pencil sharpener. Lisa did not share her mother's cleanliness standards.

What can I do now? What? She crossed her arms and stared at the faded green striped wallpaper. What if I just went to London? I've always wanted to go. I wouldn't need to tell Mother. I could leave one day when she is out. I'll fly to England. Then I can find Loretta Jennings and find out exactly who the missing baby was and why those newspaper clippings were hidden in Mother's closet.

Lisa heard the door downstairs slam. She glanced out the window and spotted Mother walking down the street, her shopping basket on her arm. Good, Lisa thought. She'll be gone awhile if she's going shopping. Reaching under her dresser, Lisa grabbed a small glass jar. Inside of it were nickels, dimes, and dollar bills. This was her leftover Christmas and birthday money from the last few years. She slowly counted and recounted each coin and bill. In all, she had only $55.42.

"Gosh, not enough," Lisa whispered to herself. What can I do, oh, what can I do? Lisa asked herself. I've got to get out of here. I can't take it anymore.

Remembering a folded piece of paper which she had shoved in the back of her desk drawer, Lisa rushed over to the other side of the room. She pulled open the desk drawer and rifled through sticky notes, pencils, and rubber bands until she found the tiny white paper. Opening it up, she rushed out of the room and down the hallway. She scampered downstairs and picked up the telephone in the kitchen.

"Hello?" answered the familiar, gentle voice.

"Hello, Mrs. Harrison?" Lisa spoke, her voice shaking. "It's me, Lisa. Lisa Porter. I need your help."

"Yes, Lisa, of course," Mrs. Harrison replied. "How can I help you, dear? Are you okay?"

Lisa hurriedly explained about the box she found the day before and expressed her desire to go to London for a fresh start. She shared her suspicion that she could possibly be the kidnapped baby Rose. She briefly told Mrs. Harrison about Mother's abusive actions and about how she wanted to escape.

"Well, Lisa, I've been waiting for this moment for a long time." Mrs. Harrison spoke slowly. "You say that your mother is out?"

"Yes."

"Good, good." Mrs. Harrison went on. "I've wanted to get you away from that place for years, but you were underage. Now that you are an adult, I can finally help you. When do you think you'll come?"

"Now, if I can," Lisa told her. "Mother went out with her shopping basket, and it's Saturday. Saturday is her big shopping day, and she always takes three hours or more."

"If you think that it's safe, then come at once, dear," Mrs. Harrison said, her voice tense. "I'll help you however I can. Please write down my address. I live in Queens now." Mrs. Harrison gave her the address and Lisa quickly wrote it down on a notepad beside the phone. Then they said good-bye and Lisa rushed back upstairs.

Reaching into her closet, Lisa pulled out a duffle bag. She emptied the stale gym clothes and towel from the bag. Then she stuffed in a few summer dresses, blue jeans, khaki shorts, a few T-shirts, a pair of pajamas, and an extra pair of shoes. She tossed in a toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, deodorant, and a curling iron. She put in some make-up and other toiletries. She dumped all of the money from the jar into her small purse. What if Mother comes back soon? She was worried and feeling dizzy. Peeking out the window, she saw nothing and went back to her packing. She ripped the page with all of the notes she had taken about Loretta Grigsby Jennings and Rose Garnet Jennings out of the notebook and stuffed it into her purse. Last, on her way out, she went into the front room and into the drawer where Mother kept important documents. Grabbing her passport, Lisa shoved it into her bag. Pausing to take one last look at the house she had lived in for her entire life, she sighed. She glanced out the window, but there was no sign of Mother. She walked down the creaking hallway. At the door, she grabbed her dark green raincoat and draped it over her arm. Slinging the duffle bag over her shoulder, she walked out the door.

Lisa jogged down the street, opposite of the way Mother had gone with her shopping basket. Around the corner, she hailed a yellow cab. She repeated Mrs. Harrison's address to the cab driver and sank down in the seat, just in case Mother were to walk by and peek through the car window.

The cab driver drove for twenty minutes and stopped in front of a tall, narrow row house that was painted green. There was a deli on the first floor. Lisa paid the driver and stepped out. On the side of the deli, a door opened and Mrs. Harrison rushed out.

"Oh, Lisa, dear!" Mrs. Harrison cried, her arms outstretched. "My, you've grown! Has it really been two years? You're at least six inches taller!"

"Great to see you, Mrs. Harrison! I've missed you a lot."

"And I've missed you, sweetheart." Mrs. Harrison hugged Lisa tightly before taking her bag and leading her upstairs.

"Thank you so much for having me," Lisa said with gratefulness.

"Of course, dear, you are most welcome," Mrs. Harrison replied. She led Lisa into her small kitchen. "How about we chat over tea? You'll be drinking a lot of it in England."

Lisa smiled. "Sure."
Chapter Five

Now that you are here, I must tell you that I've always wondered about your mother," Mrs. Harrison began as she poured the tea. "Something just seemed suspicious. First of all, she's always been so vague about where she worked. Just about her whole occupation in general."

"Oh, good, so I'm not crazy." Lisa shook her head. "I've always thought it was weird that she never talked about work. But my friend, Kim, always said that some parents were just 'like that.' I feel like that's Kim's excuse for everything."

"No, Lisa, you aren't crazy," Mrs. Harrison agreed. "Anyhow, one morning I was cleaning around the front room and I noticed a piece of notebook paper, folded up very carefully, with two names on it. It was under the sofa, and I thought that it was trash. But just out of curiosity, I looked more closely at the names."

"And? What were the names?"

Mrs. Harrison took a sip of tea and went on. "The names were Loretta Grigsby Jennings and Rose Jennings."

Lisa nearly choked on her tea. "You know?" She asked in disbelief.

Mrs. Harrison nodded. "I think I know something." She took another sip of tea while Lisa gaped at her. "Sometimes I just have a feeling about things. And after I read those names, I had this strange feeling, deep inside of me. It was as if those two names were important. I kept thinking about the two names. Why were they scribbled down and folded so well? At the time, I had only been working for your mother for a few months. You were a small thing, maybe six-years-old and cute as can be. Cute as a button, as a matter of fact. But your mother was so cold to you."

She shook her head sadly and took a sip of tea before continuing.

"My dear husband and I could never have children. But I always knew that if we did, we would love them and treat them with kindness and respect. I just couldn't understand how a mother could act like that to her own daughter."

Lisa wiped away a tear as it dripped onto her cheek. Mrs. Harrison noticed and grasped her hand from across the table.

"I'm sorry if this is hard to talk about, dear." She spoke with a gentle voice. "We can stop."

"No, please, go one," Lisa encouraged her.

"Now then, where was I?" Mrs. Harrison stirred her tea. "Oh, yes. The names. Anyhow, I always felt that those names must mean something. Then I began to observe more strange things about your mother. I will tell you more about it later, Lisa. Anyhow, a few years later, I visited my nephew in England. He works for the US Embassy and he and his family moved there. Those two names on the paper seemed British to me, so I looked in the telephone directory. I did not see anything. So after that, I went to the library archives. A kind lady there directed me to a newspaper article about a kidnapping, which you now know about."

Lisa nodded and Mrs. Harrison continued.

"I began to wonder. There were other things about your mother that made me suspicious first, Lisa. When I discovered that the names had to do with the kidnapping, I began to develop a theory. I searched all week for Loretta Jennings while I was in London, but I could not find her. I found a couple clues, though." Mrs. Harrison stopped talking to yawn. "I'm so sorry, Lisa, but I'm getting sleepy. I'm an old lady now. I feel much older than I did when I used to chase you around years ago. It's time for my afternoon nap."

"Oh, yes, of course," Lisa replied. "I'll clean up the tea."

"Thank you, dear." Mrs. Harrison smiled. "That's very sweet. Now, the guest room is at the end of the hall, on the left. The bathroom is across from it. Please make yourself at home."

"Thank you, Mrs. Harrison." Lisa reached out to squeeze the woman's soft, wrinkled hand.

"I'm going to go to my travel agent this afternoon and purchase you an airplane ticket to England," Mrs. Harrison told her.

"Wow, gosh, thanks, Mrs. Harrison!" Lisa exclaimed. "That's super nice of you. I'll pay you back someday, I promise.

Mrs. Harrison waved her hand. "I know you will, and there's no rush. I'm happy to help you. I even found two perfect travel companions for you."

"Oh?"

"Yes, the two children of my nephew." Mrs. Harrison smiled at a fond memory. "You know, the one who works for the Embassy in London. I say children, but they are grown now, of course. They are flying to Manchester and taking a train to London. They are both very sweet and you can trust them."

"Okay," Lisa replied, hesitation in her voice. She was beginning to feel bad that Mrs. Harrison was spending so much money on her.

"Don't worry, Lisa." Mrs. Harrison smiled. "I'm taking care of everything, and I don't mind a bit."

"Thanks, Mrs. Harrison. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

"Now, don't you worry about that right now." Mrs. Harrison reached out and patted Lisa's hand. "If you don't repay me for ten years, I won't mind. Even if you never can repay me, it is fine. I don't have children of my own, and when my Gus died fifteen years ago he left me with a little extra money in savings."

"I do want to get a job once I get to London," Lisa told her. "That way I can earn money to pay you back sooner."

"Now, if you are interested, I already have found a job for you." Leaning her head back, Mrs. Harrison took her last sip of tea.

"Really? Wow, thanks, Mrs. Harrison!" Lisa exclaimed. "You really have taken care of everything."

Mrs. Harrison chuckled. "I suppose that I'm a bit of a planner. Anyhow, my nephew's sweet wife, Emma, was looking to hire a personal assistant for the summer. Her two children, you know, the two you will be traveling with, will be in town and she wants to spend more time with them. So she wants someone to help her with administrative duties for the Embassy, as well as running errands. It will only be two or three days a week."

"Wow, that'd be great!" Lisa was getting more and more excited about her new life in London.

"And if you do decide to take the job, my nephew and his wife said that you can stay with them for free for the whole entire summer," Mrs. Harrison went on. "They have a lovely house in a nice, quiet neighborhood in London. It's quite a large house, so you'll have your own room."

"Thanks for everything, Mrs. Harrison," Lisa said to the older woman, overwhelmed with gratitude. "You treat me with more kindness than everyone ever has. It's always been like that. You've always been the one person who I felt loved me more than anyone. You are a lifesaver. I couldn't do this without you."

"Well, you are a very special girl to me, Lisa," Mrs. Harrison told her. "Anyhow, I do need to take my nap. I'm not as young as I used to be, I'm afraid. You go rest and make yourself at home."

* * *

Lisa spent the next three days at Mrs. Harrison's house. At first, she was nervous that Mother might somehow track her down. But after the first day, Lisa began to feel more comfortable and less afraid. She spent her days reading and watching television. Mrs. Harrison had a large bookcase in her living room, which was filled with a variety of titles. Choosing a book of poems, Lisa read by the sunny bay window at the front of the home. When she finished the poetry book, she selected a mystery novel, which Mrs. Harrison encouraged her to take with her on the plane.

A sense of peace overwhelmed Lisa and she enjoyed each day spent with Mrs. Harrison. The older woman cooked her delicious meals three times a day and even stayed up late chatting with Lisa. They did a lot of catching up after their two-year absence. The subject of Mrs. Harrison's search for Loretta Jennings did not come up again, and Lisa decided not to press the matter.

On the last night before Lisa was to leave for England, she and Mrs. Harrison sat at the small kitchen table and ate dinner. Mrs. Harrison roasted a plump chicken for the occasion. She also cooked mashed potatoes and cinnamon sugar carrots, which had been a favorite dish of Lisa's when she was a little girl.

In the middle of dinner, Mrs. Harrison turned her gaze to Lisa with an expression of seriousness.

"Lisa, I have something for you," Mrs. Harrison told her. "Do you remember when I told you I had gone to London to find Loretta Grigsby Jennings?"

"Yes."

"Well, when I was searching I met that very sweet and kind librarian," Mrs. Harrison went on. "I think I mentioned her to you the other day. Anyhow, I gave her my contact information when I left. She had been very helpful in finding the old newspaper articles."

Lisa smiled. "She does sound very kind."

"Hold out your hand, Lisa," Mrs. Harrison gently commanded.

Lisa obeyed. She held out her hand and Mrs. Harrison pressed a small piece of paper into her palm. It had a handwritten London address on it.

"The librarian mailed me this address about a month after I left London," Mrs. Harrison explained. "I haven't been back to London since then to go to it, but this was the address of Loretta Jennings at the time of the kidnapping. I wrote a couple letters, but I never received any reply."

"Wow, thank you, Mrs. Harrison!" Lisa exclaimed. "This is great. I'll go check this out as soon as I get to London."

"You are most welcome, my dear."

"Mrs. Harrison," Lisa said after a pause. "I've decided something. From now on, I'd like to go by Rose instead of Lisa."

"Rose?" Mrs. Harrison raised her eyebrows.

"Mrs. Harrison, I know that I might not be that missing baby," Lisa told her. "Maybe it's just wishful thinking. Maybe I just wish I had a different mother, one who is kind and loving. But I'm about to start a completely new life. And with my new life, I would like a new name. So I'd like to go by Rose."

"I understand," Mrs. Harrison told her. "And Rose you shall be." Mrs. Harrison gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

And so Lisa began referring to herself as Rose.
Chapter Six

When the day came for Rose to leave with Mrs. Harrison to go to the airport, she began to feel gloomy. She knew she would miss being around her friend.

Together, Rose and Mrs. Harrison rode in a taxi to the airport. They chatted about the famous sights Rose was hoping to see when she arrived in London.

Rose was still getting used to going by her new name, but she enjoyed the freshness of it. As they got closer to the airport, Mrs. Harrison reached into her bag and pulled out a thin, rectangular book. The title on the front of the book read Rose in the Countryside. Rose took the book and cracked open the cover.

"This makes me think of you," Mrs. Harrison told Rose. "It's a very popular book in England. It's a series about a mischievous little girl named Rose and all of her adventures. She lives in a tiny cottage in England with her mother and father. Her mother is her best friend. Anyhow, the little girl in the story reminds me of you. It has lovely watercolor paintings by the author, too."

"Thanks, Mrs. Harrison," Rose said, flipping through the pages. She did not have much of an interest in children's books, but she was touched by the sweetness of the gift. She had always enjoyed it when Mrs. Harrison read to her as a child.

Rose closed the book and glanced at the cover again. It was full of vibrant colors. The cover of the book featured a watercolor illustration of a little girl with curly light hair and green eyes. The girl was in the middle of a vast field. Behind the field were green, rolling hills. A great oak tree was in the middle of the field and the little girl was sitting on a swing which hung from the branch. In the illustration, the little girl was swinging high, her skirt flowing, her curls flying, and her feet bare. Rose smiled.

Mrs. Harrison walked with Rose to the airport gate. Following behind Mrs. Harrison, they approached two seats at the end of a row in the waiting area. On one chair sat a tall, slender young man who with dark, curly hair and bright green eyes. Beside him was a young woman with short auburn curls and those same green eyes. They both smiled and stood up as Mrs. Harrison and Rose approached.

"Hi, Aunt Gwen! Great to see you!" The young man spoke first. He wrapped his arms around her in a hug.

"Hi, Aunt Gwen!" The young woman chimed in. She waited for her turn for a hug.

"Rose, I'd like you to meet my nephew's children," Mrs. Harrison said to Rose after the greetings and hugs ended. "This is Lionel." She motioned to the young man first. "And Julie." She put her arm around the young woman. "Lionel and Julie, this is my friend, Rose."

"Pleased to meet you, Rose," Lionel said politely.

"Nice to meet you, Rose!" Julie exclaimed with excitement. "Rose is a really pretty name! I like it. I can't wait for us to get to London. I have almost no friends in London anymore. I can't wait to have a new friend living in my house! It will be so awesome. And we can go shopping! Do you like shopping, Rose?"

"I guess so," Rose mumbled, blushing a little. She rarely went shopping, but she liked it the few times that she had gone.

"Okay, terrific!" Julie replied with enthusiasm. "Why don't we go the day after we arrive in London? London has wonderful stores. It's not quite as amazing as shopping for clothes in Paris, of course, but it's still good."

"Of course," Rose said, feeling slightly annoyed by all the chatter.

Lionel leaned close to Julie and whispered loudly in her ear. "Julie, shut up," Rose heard him say. "Sometimes you talk too much."

Julie made a scowling face and punched Lionel in the arm. He grabbed his arm and glared at her.

It's going to be an interesting trip with these two, Rose thought. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked back to see Mrs. Harrison, who was frowning sadly.

"Time to say good-bye now," she said to Rose.

Rose held back tears as she said good-bye to Mrs. Harrison. The woman embraced her and held her tight.

"May God watch over you, Rose," Mrs. Harrison told her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Harrison." Rose paused. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too, my dear."

Mrs. Harrison gave Lionel and Julie quick hugs good-bye and told them to have a safe journey. She squeezed Rose's hand one last time before the three began to walk to the plane.

Rose turned to wave good-bye before walking onto the airplane with Lionel and Julie. She carried her duffle bag and her purse with her, which were the only things she owned in the world anymore. Rose glanced over her shoulder one last time to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Harrison. Rose could have sworn that she saw the older woman crying.

* * *

After many hours of flying and one layover, Rose walked off the airplane and onto English soil with a new friend on either side of her. Rose was quick to notice that her friends had much more luggage than she did. They did not say anything out of politeness.

"Welcome to England!" Lionel said, waving his arm in front of him.

After exchanging their money at the airport, the three friends got into a cab to go to lunch. The houses in Manchester did not appear too different from those in New York, though almost every building was brick and there seemed to be many chimneys. There were some tall buildings, but not as many as there were in New York. A significant amount of the houses appeared grim and in need of repair. Rose glanced around and took in the new surroundings.

"Don't worry," Lionel said. "Not all parts of England are so depressing. This is just the not so nice part of Manchester."

"Oh, no, there are some gorgeous spots in London, Rose," Julie cried. She grabbed Rose's arm in excitement. "I can't wait to show you around!"

Rose smiled weakly. She had so much to do when she arrived in London. She would be spending a lot of time working as an assistant to Mrs. Douglass. On top of that, she would be searching for Loretta Grigsby Jennings.

"You'll like our parents," Julie continued, not noticing that Rose was deep in thought. "They are so kind and sweet. We miss them a ton when we're away for school. Me especially. I get lonely sometimes. It'll be so wonderful to have a friend this summer. I miss my friends whenever I'm in London. But this time, I have you!"

"Don't talk her ear off, Julie," Lionel joked.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Julie exclaimed. "Rose? Am I talking too much? Rose, please, if I'm talking too much, just tell me!"

"No, no, it doesn't bother me at all," Rose lied.

"Good! I'm glad." Julie replied. "Hey Rose, I've noticed that you don't talk very much. Can I ask you something?"

"Yes," Rose replied.

"Rose, are you kind of a shy, quiet type?" Her new friend asked in a curious tone. "You sort of seem like a shy person. I mean, if you are, that's okay."

"I guess, maybe, a little bit," Rose admitted. "I don't have any brothers or sisters and I only have a few friends. I guess I'm not accustomed to being talked to very much."

"Oh, Rose, how sad." Julie's face saddened. "Only a few friends? Well, we've got to get you some more in London."

"Julie, leave her alone," Lionel whispered.

"Lionel, we are friends! I only want to get to know her better!" Julie whispered back.

Their cab arrived at a welcoming looking restaurant, which Lionel recommended. At Lionel's suggestion, Rose ordered fish and chips. It was tasty, and very different from what she normally ate. Mother generally preferred healthier foods, which were often bland in taste. Mother always preferred a low sodium diet and never consumed fried foods. Because of this, Rose enjoyed every bite of her meal.

"Great suggestion, Lionel," Rose told him after she had finished eating.

"Glad you liked it," he said, taking a bite of his food. He had ordered the same dish as Rose.

Lionel insisted on paying for the whole meal, despite Rose's pleas. She shook her head as he paid the check.

"Save your money for when you get to London," Lionel insisted. "There's lots of things to do there and many things that you'll probably want to buy."

They got back into their cab, which had waited outside the restaurant, and arrived soon at the main train station. They got in a line to purchase their train tickets from a woman behind a glass partition. Rose glanced at a tall sign, which listed all of the routes and prices when they arrived. Her heart sunk as she read. The train fare would take a good chunk of her money, even though Mrs. Harrison had given her some. She took a deep breath and stepped up to the counter when it was her turn. She paid for her ticket, and shoved the remainder of her money in her purse. Lionel and Julie purchased tickets next and then they boarded the train.

Rose, Lionel, and Julie had a compartment all to themselves. The train started moving and left the station, and Rose leaned back in her seat. The train swayed back and forth in a way which seemed almost comforting. The only train Rose could remember riding was the loud, dirty Subway train. This was different. Instead of looking out the window to view only endless rows of old brick buildings covered in soot, Rose was surprised when this train went through small villages and the vast countryside. Rose's eyes slowly shut as she sighed. Here in this train, far away from New York and in another country, she finally felt safe.

It seems like I'm safe here, Rose thought to herself as she rested with her eyes closed. And I probably am safe. But I still know in my heart that Mother might come after me if she knew where I was. Would she? Rose wondered. She's cared for me for my whole life, hasn't she? Sure, she's slapped me, hit me, and grabbed me before when she was mad, but nothing that ever did permanent damage. Even if she found me, she wouldn't hurt me... would she?

Rose tried to shake off her feelings of worry as her body swayed with the train's rocking motions. She opened one eye for a moment. Beside her, Julie leaned hunched over, reading a fashion magazine. Lionel stared intently at a thick, important looking book. I'm really fortunate that Mrs. Harrison arranged for me to travel with people she knows and trusts. Rose's closed her eyes once more and her peaceful thoughts lulled her to sleep.

* * *

Rose opened her eyes to see a tall woman in dark clothing standing over her. It was Mother. She found me! She found me! Rose's thoughts raced. Frantically she glanced around. Julie and Lionel were gone. The train compartment was completely empty, except for Rose and Mother. Outside the picture window on the wall, Rose could see a dark sky, which was almost black with no stars or moon shining.

Rose turned her head and stared up at Mother. The woman wore a large, dark hat and an equally dark dress. Tall and still, she stood in front of Rose, leering at her.

Mother silently reached down and grabbed a clump of Rose's hair. Yanking her out of her seat by the hair, Mother clenched her fist and squinted her eyes. Helplessly, Rose flailed her arms. Mother pulled Rose's flailing body farther up from the seat by her curly locks, holding her there with one hand. Hanging by her hair, Rose hovered over the floor. Her feet dangled as she struggled to get herself loose.

"Stop it! Let me go!" Rose cried.

Mother's face rested emotionless. Her eyes were dark and cold. Her lips parted slightly, but showed no sign of sadness or regret.

"Stop it! Stop it, Mother!" Rose was weeping now.

Still, despite Rose's pleas, Mother gripped her hair tightly. The woman stared at her face with her same a cold, emotionless stare. Rose continued to struggle to get free, swinging her arms at Mother and begging her to put her down.

"Please let me go, please!" Rose begged.

"Rose! Rose! Rose, wake up!" A voice called out her name.

A hand was on her arm. Rose opened her eyes to see the sun shining through the large picture window of the train compartment. Mother was nowhere in sight.

"Rose, Rose!" Julie's voice cried. Julie was beside Rose and Lionel stood over her, his face clouded with concern.

It was a nightmare. It was all a nightmare. Rose breathed with ease, her body filled with relief.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Rose insisted. "I just had a bad dream. I'm so sorry to worry you both."

"Oh, Rose!" Julie cried, wrapping her arms around her friend. Rose sat still in her seat, enveloped in Julie's warm embrace. When Julie let go, Lionel gently took Rose's hand.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said to her. "You cried out. You sounded terrified."

Rose blinked her eyes and gazed up at Lionel. He took a seat beside her. He awkwardly placed his hand on her arm.

"Are you sure everything is alright?" he asked her in a voice that was just above a whisper.

"Yes, yes, it's fine," Rose mumbled.

"Please, I want you to know," said Lionel. "If you need anything at all, Julie and I are your friends. Please don't hesitate to ask us for help. You can trust us."

"Thank you," Rose whispered. "I'm sleepy, so I think I'll take another nap."

Lionel nodded and got up. Rose closed her eyes again, clasping her hands tightly in her lap.

Lionel seems so kind. So does Julie, even though she talks more than a parrot. Rose opened her eyes slightly to observe her two companions. They seem nice. They seem normal, too. Will they really become good friends? Can I trust them with my secrets? Maybe I can. Not everyone is like Mother. Not everyone is full of dark secrets, hidden underneath the floorboards.

Rose's dreams this time were far more pleasant. She dreamed of a large park with hills and a pond. She dreamed of Lionel and Julie, taking a walk along the pathway. Everything in the park was green. Everything sparkled and the water in the pond shimmered like diamonds. The sun was the color of lemons.

A tall, slender woman approached. Her hair was brown and curly. Her eyes were cheerful and a large smile filled her face. As she walked closer, she lifted her arms toward Rose.

"Rose! Rose!" the woman called. She started toward Rose, her arms outstretched. The woman began running toward her, but her run was almost like a dance, full of graceful, flying leaps.

"I'm here! I'm here!" Rose shouted in her dream. "It's me! It's Rose! I am your little Rose!"

In her dream, Rose knew this woman. She belonged to this tall woman with the large smile and the abundant curls. Was the woman in my dreams my true mother? My birth mother? Is Loretta Jennings really my birth mother? Rose wondered curiously after she had woken up. I think she could be. I just need to find out for sure.
Chapter Seven

It was dark when they arrived in London, at the Waterloo Station. The city lights were brilliant in the night sky, and Rose thought that they shone like a million glowing orbs. She pressed her hand against the window, desiring to reach out and touch the magical-looking lights.

"Here we are!" Lionel called out. He handily lifted two of their bags on his shoulders. A steward carried the rest. Lionel walked off the train with a jolly jaunt. Julie took Rose's arm and led her out into the night air.

They hailed a cab and arrived about fifteen minutes later at a tall, stately looking brick home with a tall, black iron fence around it. White shutters and awnings framed the house. The home was so large and regal that Rose stared at it in awe.

"Come on now," Lionel called to her with a laugh. A man dressed in khaki pants and a polo shirt rushed to their car to gather up their luggage. A woman, who was a live-in maid, dressed in a white blouse and grey skirt took Rose's raincoat, which she had worn to shield herself from the chilly night air.

They stepped into the tall entryway of the house. The floors were black and white marble and an elegant, dark metal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Suddenly, there was a flurry of greetings and hugs between a slender woman with greying curls, an older, balding gentleman with round eyeglasses, Lionel, and Julie.

"How wonderful it is to have you home!" the woman cried.

"Oh, Mom, I've missed you so, so much!" Julie's high voice echoed through the large entryway.

"Great to see you, Dad!" Lionel stated with a smile.

"I'm so happy to have my two children back home again!" said the man.

Rose ducked away to a corner. She suddenly felt alone and forgotten. Of course this was no one's fault, and she knew it. But watching her friends with their parents reminded her how cold and strained her interactions with her own mother were, as well as the fact that she had no memory of her father. She stood in her state of loneliness until the slender, grey haired woman, Mrs. Douglass, turned around and reached out to her. She hugged Rose tight.

"You must be Rose," she chirped in a cheerful voice.  
"I am," Rose replied.

"Welcome to our home!" The woman wrapped Rose up in a hug. Mrs. Douglass pulled away after a few seconds to look Rose in the face. "It's so nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Rose said politely. She smiled.

"Please, I want you to spend the next three days settling in," Mrs. Douglass told her. "After that, I can explain to you how you will be assisting me and what your duties will be."

"Thank you, ma'am," Rose thanked her. "I appreciate your kindness. I am very grateful for this opportunity and for letting me stay here in your home. I don't know how to thank you."

"Nonsense!" the woman exclaimed. "You are most welcome. Any friend of Aunt Gwen is a friend of ours."

Rose nodded. Mr. Douglass approached her and greeted her warmly with a handshake. He welcomed her as a guest in his home.

After all of the friendly introductions, the woman who had taken Rose's coat led her up to her room. Rose was surprised to find that the room was right beside Julie's bedroom. She had assumed that she would be in some sort of servant's quarters in such a large house.

The bedroom was large and white. The ceilings were tall and the bed had four tall posts and a canopy. The bed linens and covers were all frilly and white, as were the curtains. A plush white rug rested on the dark wood floors. Soft lamplight made the room seem warm and cozy. Rose changed into her pajamas and rested her head on the pillow. I'm here, she thought with contentment. I am in the same city as the woman who might be my true mother, my birth mother. Somewhere, maybe only a few streets away, my mother is in her own bed. She could be reading a book. Maybe she's watching television. It's possible that she's even thinking of me.

* * *

Rose awoke hours later to the sound of a somewhat distant train whistle. She had been dreaming of the tall, slender woman in the newspaper photograph. My true mother. The woman's hair was curly and her eyes were kind. In her dream, the woman had held Rose close. "I've missed you, I've missed you," she had said over and over again. "I've missed holding my baby."

Rose wrapped her arms around her chest. She had not really longed for the warmth and security of a hug since she was a little girl. She could not even remember Mother ever initiating a hug. As a very little girl, she had hugged Mother. Mother had not rejected the hugs, but it was obvious that they brought her no joy, and each time she was quick to pull away. Eventually Rose stopped giving her hugs all together. All other hugs that Rose could remember had come from Mrs. Harrison. Yet now, Rose longed to be held. She admired the joy and love that she had seen in the Douglass family. If she had not been snatched from her baby carriage as an infant, would she have grown up in a home filled with warmth and love?

She sensed a vast emptiness in her chest. I've missed years of happiness. I've missed years of love. I'm nearly a grown woman, but right now I just want to go back to being a little girl. I want to be in the home of my birth mother. I want to listen to her voice calling me gently in the morning. I want her to embrace me. I want us to fix breakfast and go to the park and take walks and read. I want us to do everything together. For a few seconds, she opened her eyes. Again, she closed them. How foolish are these thoughts? How foolish am I to think that I can recapture years of lost moments with a woman who I don't even know? What if she isn't even my mother? What if this is all just some silly notion I've dreamed up? Maybe that's all it is. Maybe I just hate that my mother is a cold woman who doesn't seem to care about me. Maybe I'm dreaming up some fantasy world where I have a different mother, one who truly loves me. But what if she is my real mother? What if Loretta Grigsby Jennings is my true mother? I need to find her. I need to find her so that I can find out who I truly am. That should be my main mission this week.

Outside, the train whistle was still singing through the night air. What if this same train is passing my mother's house right now? What if she is hearing the exact same train go by? Rose felt a chill just thinking about it. If I find her, I wonder if we could ever really be close, the way we should have been all along. I want us to be close like mothers and daughters should be. I want it to be like what I've seen in movies and books, I guess. I just hope it's not too late. I just hope eighteen years apart hasn't been too long.

Rose gazed around at her surroundings. All of the white items in the room glowed in the moonlight. This place was so bright and seemed so open compared to her old room at home. The ceilings were tall in this new room, while the ceilings in her old room at home were low. These walls had white and silver damask wallpaper, while the walls in her old room had been a dark green. The bed was softer here, and much larger. There were more pillows and a thick duvet covering the bed. The room was larger, too, as was the tall window. Rose could imagine herself feeling very at home in this new place. She was excited about all of the adventures ahead of her.

Rose turned over in the bed and repositioned her pillow before settling her head on it again. Tomorrow, I'll go looking for Loretta Grigsby Jennings at the address Mrs. Harrison gave me, she decided.

Rose yawned, feeling sleepy again. Stretching, she leaned back on the frilly white pillow. Moonlight shone on her face through the curtains as the train whistle became more and more distant. Slowly she fell back asleep again.
Chapter Eight

Can I go with you?" Lionel called out to Rose the next morning, having followed her out the front door. "I know my way around the city. I can help you find your birth mother. I could at least direct you to the side of town they live on."

"You know about my mother?" Rose asked, surprised.

"Well, my mom said that you were looking for your birth mother here," Lionel explained. "That's all I know. Aunt Gwen must've mentioned it to her on the phone."

"Okay," Rose replied. "But I'd hate for you to waste your whole first day back in London on helping me." She tried to sound concerned.

"No, please, it wouldn't be a waste," he responded. "I enjoy spending time with you."

I guess I could let him come along. Hopefully he won't slow me down.

"Okay, then come." Rose said sharply, turning around again to walk. "Do you know this address?" She read it to him and held out the paper to show him.

"I know the general area," he told her. "Come on, let's take the Tube."

The pair walked down the quiet block where the Douglass family lived. They left the tranquil neighborhood and entered the busy streets of London. Cars honked and taxi cabs sped by. Droves of people walked past and trains clanked on their tracks. Lionel led the way to the nearest Tube station.

They walked down what seemed like a million stairs to the station, where they purchased tickets. Then they waited by the tracks for the train to come.

"So are you only looking for your mom, or other family members too? Aunts, uncles, cousins?" Lionel asked.

"Just my mother right now.'

"What about checking out the orphanage where you were before you were adopted?"

"I don't know anything about it," Rose responded, shrugging.

"Do you know who your father is?" Lionel asked.

"Yes, but he's dead," Rose told him in a flat voice.

"I'm very sorry," Lionel apologized, sounding sincere. "I guess I shouldn't have asked."

"It's fine," Rose told him.

"Well, the stop we need for that address is Covent Garden," Lionel told her.

"How do you know London so well?" Rose asked. "I thought you were at Dartmouth for most of the time."

"I went to high school here in London for two years," Lionel responded. "My parents have been here, assisting the U.S. ambassador, for five years. I've been over at Dartmouth for three."

"Ah, I see," said Rose, smiling at him.

"I just graduated, though," Lionel told her. "I took extra classes so I could finish early. I'll be heading to New York at the end of summer to take Julie back to school, but I'm not sure yet what I'll do after that."

"And where does Julie go to school?" Rose asked. "I think she told me, where she goes, but I forgot."

"Sarah Lawrence," Lionel answered.

"That's in New York, right?"

"Yes, it sure is."

"Well, good for her. I want to go to college someday."

"And how about you? Have you always lived in Brooklyn?" Lionel looked at Rose intently.

"Well, except for when I lived in London as a baby," she responded.

Lionel seemed embarrassed. "Yes, of course, that."

Rose laughed. "I guess you don't know too many orphans, right?"

"No, not so many," Lionel responded bashfully. "But you aren't an orphan, are you? Your mother is alive." He paused. "I really hope you find her soon."

Rose smiled. "Thanks."

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"You sure are lucky to have parents like yours," Rose noted.

"Yeah, I sure do love them a ton," Lionel responded. "They are great people."

"My adopted mother was always extremely cold to me when I was growing up," Rose explained to him. "I guess it makes sense now, knowing now that I was adopted and not her blood-related daughter. I guess she never would accept me as her daughter. Not as her true, daughter."

"But I have friends who were adopted, and their parents are wonderful to them," Lionel was quick to interject.

'Well, lucky for them," said Rose. "I wish I had had parents like that. I don't know what went wrong with me."

"I'm sorry, Rose," Lionel said. "I wasn't trying to rub it in. It's just that, I know not all adopted children are treated coldly."

"I know, it's fine," Rose said, walking ahead. She was eager to change the subject. "Race you up that hill!"

She jolted forward, with Lionel scrambling at her heels. Within thirty seconds, they had reached the top. They both laughed and gasped for breath.

"I won, I won!" Rose proclaimed, feeling victorious.

"That's only because you had a head start," Lionel laughed. He glanced around. "I guess we look like a couple of idiots. I don't think people our age are supposed to race in public. We look like a couple of kids running wild all over town."

"Yeah, I guess so," Rose said, still catching her breath.

Rose smoothed her skirt to get rid of the wrinkles which had developed on the fabric after the race. The night before, a maid had taken all of her clothes except for her pajamas. She had washed and ironed each article of clothing, even the socks and underwear. Rose's clothes felt fresh and new after her endless hours of travel.

They walked a little ways more. Several times Lionel suggested they get a cab, but Rose always protested, stating that she enjoyed the fresh air. Reluctantly, Lionel would agree each time to continue walking.

"So, what were you studying at... where was it you said you went to school? Dartmouth?" Rose asked.

"Yes, Dartmouth," Lionel replied. "I'm was studying history and journalism."

"History?" Rose said with a smile. "Then you must love coming to London!"

"Oh, yes, I do," Lionel agreed. "I can't get enough of it. I love the architecture, and I especially love all the museums. Walking the streets of London is almost like visiting a living museum."

"I'll bet it's hard for you to leave after the summertime," Rose suggested.

"Yes, it sure is. For Julie, too. She hates being apart from our parents. But when we leave this time, I'll take her back to Sarah Lawrence. Then I'll come back here to London since I'm done with school. I'm thinking of law school eventually, but I'll probably just stay here in London for a year and work with my dad."

"That's nice that you work with him. Did you stay really busy with your studies in college?" Rose asked.

"Yes and no," Lionel replied. "My classes took up a lot of my time, but I also do some writing for a national history journal. I still do the writing in my spare time."

"So why do you do that?" Rose asked, curious.

"Oh, I just enjoy writing about history. And I make a decent income doing it. I don't want to be dependent on my parents financially at my age."

"Really?" Rose asked. "I guess I've never really thought about that sort of thing. So all the money you spend is your own?"

"All the money? I hope that I don't spend too much," Lionel said with a laugh. "But yes. My parents pay a small amount for my college tuition, and I pay for everything else. They do give Julie money, though. And she has no objections to accepting every penny of it." He smiled.

"No, I'm sure she doesn't," Rose agreed, chuckling. "Julie certainly loves to go shopping. I've heard her talk about shopping like a hundred times."

"Oh, yes, she does love to shop," Lionel agreed. "But she really does have a kind heart. Every summer she volunteers at the hospital near by parents' house. She's studying to be a nurse, you know."

"Oh, really? Does she work there every day?"

"No, usually two or three days a week. She likes working at the hospital. I think she really enjoys helping people. This will actually be the third summer that she has volunteered over there."

"Well, good for her."

They walked down tree lined streets beside a park. The dark colored lampposts were elegant, like something out of an old movie. To Rose, London had a more classic style than New York.

They continued to walk and Rose became more anxious. What will my birth mother say to me when she answers the door? What will she do? Rose's thoughts were making her feel nauseous. She swayed in her nervousness as they waited to cross the street. When the light changed, Rose shook her head and walked with caution across.

"Well, here we are!" Lionel finally stated. They were in front of a tall, narrow brick building on a busy street.

Rose looked up to gaze up at the building. She took a deep breath, feeling unable to believe that she was at her birth mother's home.
Chapter Nine

This is it?" Rose asked almost in awe, still staring at the building nervously.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Lionel asked.

"No," Rose replied. She paused. "Wait. Yes." I'm not ready to face this alone, Rose realized.

They walked in through the dark green painted front door and up the narrow stairs until they stood at unit 3, which was the flat number Mrs. Harrison had written down. The door was plain and painted a dark grey. On the door was a simple iron number 3. The solitary number stared at Rose and she was filled with nervousness. With a burden of hesitation weighing down on her, Rose raised her hand to knock. Pausing, she shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, she pressed her fist to the door and knocked firmly on it. She heard the sounds of her knock echo.

A minute passed. Rose clenched her fists as she waited in the silence of the hall, Lionel standing behind her.

Finally, they heard sounds inside. The doorknob turned and the door slowly creaked open. A short, plump woman in a red floral dress and stained apron stood before them. Her thick, salt and pepper colored hair was pinned up in a bun.

"Well?" the woman asked impatiently. "What do you want?" Her accent sounded more New York than London.

"We are looking for Mrs. Jennings. Mrs. Loretta Jennings." Rose's voice quivered with her inner nervousness as she spoke.

"Never heard of her," she woman replied gruffly. "Try checking downstairs with the landlady. She lives in unit 1." With that, the woman slammed the door. Discouraged, Rose's shoulders slouched forward and she felt her eye fill up with tears, which she was fast to brush away.

"Don't worry, Rose," Lionel said. "Let's just go downstairs and talk to the landlady. Everything will be fine."

Rose trudged down the stairs, Lionel in tow. The landlady, who was an older woman, answered the door promptly.

"Loretta Jennings?" the woman repeated the name. "Yes, I do seem to remember her. The lady whose baby went missing, right?"

"Yep, that's the one," Rose replied with eagerness, forgetting that Lionel knew nothing of her kidnapping.

"Oh, yes," the woman said sadly. "Poor thing. She was devastated for years. About two or three years after it happened, she moved from here. Moved out to the countryside, I believe. She wanted to start a new life for herself, I suppose."

"Do you know of a forwarding address?" Rose asked.

"No, can't say I do," the woman responded. "She didn't leave one, as I remember. Just told me she was leaving."

"Thank you for your help," Rose said with a mix of gratefulness and disappointment. She and Lionel left the building.

"What's this about a missing baby?" Lionel asked as they walked away.

Realizing her mistake, Rose's face turned white. Can I really trust Lionel with my secret? What if he doesn't understand?

"Can we talk about it a little later?" Rose requested. "I haven't told anyone anything about this. At least, no one but Mrs. Harrison. You Aunt Gwen, I mean. I just... I'm just not even sure where to begin."

"Can I take you out for lunch?" Lionel asked. "Then we can talk about it if you want. And if you don't want to, we won't."

"Yes, that sounds nice," she replied.

Lionel led the way down a less busy road. They walked beside a large park and then onto a crowded street, with cars zooming by left and right. Rose looked up ahead and spotted a large, regal building surrounded by a high fence and intricate gate.

"Buckingham Palace," Lionel mumbled, gazing at it with wonder.

"This is it?" Rose asked, almost in disbelief. "This is really it?"

Lionel nodded. "Sure is."

Continuing on, Lionel and Rose strolled down a quieter street. Detailed displays filled shop windows and restaurants had sample menus taped to the glass. They passed a small jewelry shop with a large window. Rose stopped to gaze at the jewelry pieces which were on display in front of the window. A shining gold necklace with pale blue gemstones caught Rose's eye. The settings of the piece of jewelry were full of detail. Each jewel was set so that they had the appearance of a row of flowers. The blue was the color of a sky, but even brighter.

"Aquamarine," Lionel commented.

"Really?" Rose asked. "It's so beautiful."

"You act like you've never seen jewelry before."

"Well, I haven't seen much," Rose said in a defensive tone. "Mother hardly ever wore jewelry. I only had a couple pieces, but they weren't real or anything. Just fashion jewelry." Rose paused. "How do you know so much about jewelry? What are you, a jewel thief?" She smiled teasingly.

Lionel laughed. "No, I'm not a jewel thief." He winked.

"I was only kidding. Jewel thieves are mostly in movies, I guess."

"There are more jewel robberies than you might think," Lionel told her. "In fact, there was a break in at a small jewelry shop here in London just a few months ago. From what I remember of my time here in London, there's usually at least a few jewelry store robberies a year. At least once a year small shops like that one get broken into, and the thieves make off with thousands and thousands of dollars' worth of jewels. So you can imagine how much they take when they break into a larger shop.

Rose raised her eyebrows at these figures. "Crazy!" she commented.

"I find it all really fascinating," he said. "Sometimes I read about that sort of thing happening in Paris or Brussels, too. I was reading something about how they think it's the same ring of jewel thieves who've been robbing these little shops over the years. In fact, the evidence has led the authorities to believe that this same group has been robbing jewelry shops in London, Paris, Brussels, and New York for over twenty years! But I remember something about how they've been committing robberies more often in the past five years. And they think that an insider at the shops could be involved, or something. Can't remember."

"That sounds pretty cool," Rose said, more out of politeness than anything. While that sort of thing sounded very mysterious, she was more interested in finding out where in the country her birth mother had relocated to. They left the jewelry store window and continued walking.

"Well, here's the pub I mentioned," Lionel said. They entered through a bright red door into a building, which was on the same street as the jewelry shop.

Inside, the two friends ordered lunch. After giving their order to the waiter, they chatted casually. Rose took a deep breath. I'll tell him. I'll go ahead and tell him everything.

"Okay, so I'm going to tell you something," Rose began. "But I'd rather keep it between us for now. It's a crazy story, and I don't want everyone to think I'm a weirdo. I am trusting you."

"Okay, I promise to keep a secret," Lionel swore.

Rose started her story, beginning with the secret box under the floorboards. Lionel's eyes grew wide as plates when Rose told him that she suspected her own adopted mother of kidnapping her.

"So you really think she's a kidnapper?" He asked.

"Well, it's the only way that it makes sense," Rose replied. "The baby photograph with my name on it isn't of me. It couldn't be. That baby doesn't even look like me. I looked like the baby in the newspaper clippings when I was young. The missing one. It makes sense, right?"

"I guess so," said Lionel hesitantly. "I mean, yes, it seems like it does. But how can you be so certain about this? You seem overly confident."

"Well, I guess I can't be sure, really. But it makes sense. How else would you explain the baby photo with my name with the dark haired baby?" Rose looked at him, imploringly.

"Yes, I guess that's true," Lionel said. "But who is the baby in the picture if it's not you?"

"That's a good question." Rose shook her head. "I don't know. I honestly have no clue."

"Go on with your story, then."

Rose explained to Lionel her real name, and that she had decided to go by Rose Porter instead of Lisa Porter as she started a new life for herself. Lionel was understanding. Rose told him her fear of her mother coming after her and finding her in London.

"Why don't you just report her to the authorities?" Lionel asked. "Then you won't have to worry so much."

"I don't know," Rose answered. "I guess maybe I should. But she was still the only mother I've ever known. I don't want any harm to come to her. I don't want her thrown in jail or anything. I just want her to leave me alone. Actually, I think I would be fine if I never saw her again."

The pair continued to talk. People came and went all around them, but Lionel and Rose scarcely seem to notice. An elderly couple sat down nearby and ordered tea. A young man in a light colored coat sat down at the table beside theirs. Through the bustling atmosphere of the pub, Rose and Lionel's conversation continued.

"Pardon me," came a male voice behind Rose, interrupting Lionel mid-sentence. She glanced back. It was the young man sitting at the table near them. He was holding up a pen and flashing a flawless, charming smile.

"Yes?" Rose asked.

"I'm sorry, miss, but I believe you dropped this." He extended his hand toward her, the pen in his palm.

Rose stared at the pen with curiosity. I did not look familiar, but she thanked him graciously so as not to seem rude. She smiled.

"Hey, you're an American, aren't you?" The young man asked, his voice excited. Clearly, judging by his accent, he was an American, too.

"Yes, I am!" Rose exclaimed with a smile.

"Where are you from in the States?" He asked with enthusiasm. "I'm from a small town in Iowa," he volunteered.

"New York," Rose replied vaguely, hoping he wouldn't ask for additional details about where she came from. She was still suspicious of strangers because of her paranoia of Mother coming after her.

She and the young man began talking, comparing life in America to London. Lionel sat back with his arms folded over his chest. Appearing irritated, he said nothing. Rose did not want to be rude to the her new acquaintance, so she ignored Lionel's annoyance. The young man told her that he was twenty-six and unmarried. He had lived in London for two years and had come to the city for work.

"Hey, have you been out dancing yet? Since you came to London, that is." The young man, who had introduced himself as Rodney Martin, asked eagerly.

"No, not since I arrived in London," Rose replied. "But I love dancing. I really do. I'm not very good, but I think it's fun. I used to go out with my friends from school sometimes back in New York."

"Hey, how would you like to go tonight? I know of a great place for dancing! It's a little club over near Hyde Park." Rodney's enthusiasm filled Rose with excitement. Rodney was so different from quiet, serious Lionel. She glanced at Lionel, who still wore a sour expression on his face.

"Yes, I'd love to!" Rose responded.

"It's a date," said Rodney.
Chapter Ten

The more that Rose spoke to Rodney, the more she felt as if she had seen him before. There was something about his voice and the shape of his face, as well as the way his light hair fell over his eyes. His eyes were the palest blue she had ever seen.

"You look so familiar to me," Rose said to Rodney as they sat at the restaurant table, Lionel still sulking in silence. "I feel like I have seen you somewhere before."

"Have you ever been to Iowa?" Rodney asked.

"Nope, never," Rose replied.

"Well, I don't know, then," Rodney told her. "I did go to New York once. For a week. I was visiting colleges. Maybe that's it."

"Maybe," Rose said with hesitation.

Rose tried to forget about her questions about Rodney looking so familiar for now. Instead, she focused all of her attention on Rodney and how fascinating he was to her. He was so confident and forward. She liked that he had asked her out within a few minutes of their initial introduction. He seemed to have an adventurous spirit, and it was obvious that he was intelligent and had a terrific personality. In his confidence, he didn't seem cocky. Rose liked that about him.

As they continued talking, Lionel hardly spoke a word. After an hour, Rose suggested with hesitation that they should go because it was getting late. She and Rodney said a friendly good-bye, while Lionel mumbled his farewells. Lionel paid their check and they left. They walked along in silence toward the nearest Tube station.

"You sure are quiet," Rose said to Lionel.

"Am I? Sorry," he replied.

"Well? What's wrong?" Rose asked.

"I don't know. I guess I just don't trust that guy." Lionel responded.

"Why?"

"I don't know," said Lionel. "I guess he just seemed too good to be true, I guess. He seems really forward and full of himself. He asked you out way too soon. He could be some crazy murderer for all you know."

Rose glared at Lionel. "Since when are you the final authority on when is an appropriate time to ask someone out?"

"Okay, fine, I won't give you advice." Lionel's voice showed his annoyance. "I just don't think I like him."

"Don't tell me you're jealous!" Rose said, half teasing.

"I'm not jealous. Why would I be jealous?" Lionel quickly responded, his voice sounding defensive.

"Well, because now I have a new friend. A friend besides you."

"You can have friends. You are a grown woman, you can do what you want."

"That's nice of you to say, but you are definitely jealous." Rose rolled her eyes.

"Let's not talk about it anymore. I'd rather not talk about him anymore." Lionel made a face.

"He has a name."

"Okay. Rupert. Whatever his name is." Lionel's voice was still filled with annoyance.

"It's Rodney," said Rose.

"Fine," Lionel responded. "Rodney."

* * *

That night, Rose dressed up and fixed her hair and make-up. Julie had loaned her a dress and had excitedly helped Rose to get ready as soon as she found out about the date. Julie even let Rose wear her crystal earrings and necklace, which glimmered when they caught the light. She arranged to take a cab to the Twelve O'clock Dance Club near Hyde Park. She was supposed to meet Rodney there at 8:00.

"Why don't I go with you and drop you off, and then come get you later?" Lionel suggested before she left.

"Why? I'll be able to find it." Rose responded.

"I just want to make sure you get there and back home safely," Lionel told her.

"Who are you, my older brother? I'm not Julie, you know. I can get there and back myself." Rose said defensively.

"I just don't trust that guy," Lionel said. "I know I already told you, but I'm just saying."

"There you go, being jealous again!" Rose responded said teasingly. "Please, don't worry. I'll be just fine. And don't wait up for me."

"Okay, just be careful."

"Rodney is not a murderer!" Rose reassured Lionel with sarcasm in her voice. "Does he look like a murderer? Does he act like a murderer? No, I don't think so. He is also not a thief, a stalker, or a kidnapper. Lionel, you sure are acting paranoid. It'll all be fine. I'll be perfectly safe."

"I've heard of guys who were charmers," Lionel said. "They ask pretty girls out on dates. Then they kill them."

"Lionel, really!" Rose exclaimed. "You've been watching too many old Alfred Hitchcock films. You are overreacting!"

"Okay, okay," Lionel said in defeat. "And maybe I do watch too much Hitchcock. I like his movies. But I also want to be a journalist. So I'm naturally questioning everything."

Rose laughed off his worries and left when the cab arrived in front of the house. The drive took less than twenty minutes before she arrived at the club. Rose paid the driver and exited.

Standing in front of the neon lights at the night club, Rose could feel her heart begin to flutter. I can't wait to see Rodney again, she thought happily. She had arrived several minutes early, so she waited patiently beside the front door. The doorman glanced at her with curiosity, but said nothing.

Rodney arrived minutes later, dressing even sharper than he had been earlier. He always looks so good! Rose thought with pleasure. I'm pretty lucky to get asked out by such an attractive guy after only being in London for a day! If only Mother could see me now.

"You look amazing, Rose," Rodney said, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.

"You don't look so bad yourself," Rose replied, feeling shy.

Rodney placed his hand on the small of her back and led her inside. They entered a large room with a tall, painted ceiling and colored lights hanging from the ceiling. Popular music blared with a pair of large speakers and couples danced in the center. There were high top tables near the bar, which was where Rodney led Rose. Once seated, he ordered them champagne, and then martinis. They drank as they talked and glanced over the menu for an appetizer to share.

Rose began to feel dizzy, but she got up and danced with Rodney anyway. He swung her across the floor and dipped her so that when she looked up, she could see the shimmering lights overhead. He whispered into her ear and she giggled. He twirled her until her head was spinning.

"You are an awesome dancer!" she shouted over the loud music.

"Thanks, Rose," he replied.

"You make me feel like I know what I'm doing, even though I haven't danced too much before."

"That's what a good dancer does. He leads his partner so she can do anything." Rodney flashed his bright, radiant smile.

They danced several more to several more songs. Rodney began to hold Rose closer, and Rose did not mind the warmth of his body against hers in the least. He whispered in her ear about how attractive he found her. Rose could not stop blushing at all his words, and she wanted to hear more of them. He stroked her back and kissed her forehead and cheeks. Rose felt warm inside. She had never been touched this way before.

When they sat down, Rodney ordered more champagne. The bubbles floated toward the ceiling and the glasses began to look fuzzy. Rose blinked her eyes.

"I shouldn't have any more," she said in a quiet voice.

"Nonsense," said Rodney. "Enjoy yourself. You deserve to have a good time."

Rose's head was spinning. It began to ache and she pressed her palm against it. She was beginning to feel a little nauseous.

"Please," she said. "I'm starting to feel a little sick."

"I'm sorry," Rodney apologized, concern on his face. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have ordered you so much. Gosh, what was I thinking? You don't normally drink, do you?"

"It's fine, it's fine," Rose reassured him, blushing. "But no, I don't normally drink."

"How old are you, Rose?" Rodney asked, his voice still sounding concerned.

"I'm eighteen," Rose told him, lifting her head from her hand and sitting up straight in her chair.

"Oh, wow," he replied, his voice filled with surprise. "I'm sorry, I thought you were at least twenty-one."

"Do you wish you hadn't asked me out now?" Rose asked with disappointment. Great, she thought. My perfect date is ruined.

"Oh, no, not at all!" Rodney reassured her. "To me, age is just a number. I like you a lot, Rose. I've had a great time tonight. I just feel really bad that I gave you all those drinks and made you sick."

"It's okay," Rose told him. Feeling suddenly sick again, she leaned her head on her hand.

"Here, now, let me take you home," Rodney offered, putting his arm around her shoulders.

"Thank you," she said, mortified at how their lovely night was ending.

"Don't mention it," he said.

What happened next all seemed to be a blur to Rose as Rodney led her outside, hailed a cab, and helped her to get situated inside the car. He held her as they rode along in the back seat. Rose appreciated the warmth of him beside her. He stroked her hair until they arrived in front of the Douglass home.

"I don't want to say good-bye," she whispered to him.

"I don't either," he said. He kissed her forehead.

When Rose got inside, Lionel was waiting for her on a chair near the front door, a frown on his face. He led her upstairs to the sitting room and helped her to a floral sofa. He shut the sitting room door.

"You're drunk," he muttered, disgust in his voice.

"So what if I am?" Rose said in defiance.

"It's not so much that you are, but that you were out drunk with a perfect stranger. It's a miracle you even arrived safely at home." His voice was disapproving.

"I've gotten to know Rodney more and more tonight, and he's so caring. I trust him completely." Rose shot back in his defense.

"How can you trust someone you hardly know?"

"See, you are jealous!" Rose said. "I've known you a couple days longer than I've known Rodney. So how can I trust you?"

"Okay, okay, you're right. But I thought we were friends." He paused. "I thought we were becoming pretty good friends," Lionel added.

"We are," said Rose. "But Rodney and I have something special. Something... well, we are more than friends."

Lionel frowned. He seemed about to say something, but he didn't speak. "Have a good night, Rose," Lionel said. "I hope you sleep well." He turned away and walked down the hall.

Rose dizzily made her way to her bedroom without a word. At the door, she paused and glanced down the hall as Lionel disappeared around a corner. She shook her head and opened her bedroom door.
Chapter Eleven

The next morning, Rodney called Rose at the Douglass house to see how she was feeling. Her heart began to beat fast when she heard his voice on the line. She smiled and twisted the phone cord around her finger.

"I feel much better," she assured him. "Thanks for asking."

"Oh, good," Rodney said to her, his voice filled with relief. "I was really worried about you."

"Aw, that's really sweet," Rose cooed.

"Hey, want to hang out sometime this weekend?" Rodney asked, his voice sounding eager. "I want to see you again."

"I'd love that," Rose told him. "This afternoon I'm going with Lionel and Julie to the Tower of London. Wanna come?"

"That sounds terrific," Rodney enthused. "What time?"

"Want to meet us here at Lionel and Julie's house at noon?" Rose suggested.

"Sure, sounds great."

"Do you want to write down the address?"

"No," he replied. "I remember how to get there."

"Okay, great. Bye, Rodney!"

Rose hung up the phone and hurried down the hallway to Julie's room. She eagerly knocked on the door and Julie opened the door within seconds.

"Guess who is coming with us today to the Tower of London!" Rose squealed.

"Who? Who?" Julie asked breathlessly. "Wait, is it Rodney?"

"Yes!" Rose cried. Her eyes grew wide and she grinned.

"Eeeek!" Julie shrieked with excitement. "I get to meet your boyfriend! I'm so excited! You described him like he was a Greek god. I've been wanting to meet him so bad, so this is perfect!"

"Well, he's not exactly my boyfriend," Rose told her. She paused. "Yet," she added.

"Still, I can't wait," Julie screeched.

"Gosh, I hope Lionel is okay with Rodney going," Rose wondered aloud. "He doesn't like Rodney."

"And we care about what Lionel thinks, why?" Julie rolled her eyes. "He's a big brother. He's been protective like that for as long as I can remember. I try to ignore him when he gets that way."

"You're right, I need to forget about what he thinks of Rodney," Rose agreed. "It doesn't matter anyway."

"Know what we need to do?" Julie asked.

"What?"

"We need to get you ready to see Rodney!" Julie sang.

Julie grabbed Rose by the hand and practically dragged her down the hallway to the bathroom. She plugged in the curling iron and rolled Rose's hair to touch up her natural curls. Within minutes, Rose was sporting a head full of perfectly shaped curls. Julie secured a hot pink headband on Rose's head.

"I have this really cute plaid skirt," Julie told her. "I think it'd look great on you! It's black, and yellow. I'll let you wear my white polo, too."

"Thanks, Julie, you're the best!"

Despite Julie's almost incessant gabbing, Rose liked her new friend more and more. She admired Julie's enthusiasm and how much she wanted to be a helpful friend.

"Okay, back." Julie stood in the doorway and held up two hangers, one which had the skirt and the other with the polo.

"Perfect!" Rose cried when she had tried on the new outfit. "I love it all. Thanks, Julie!"

"Anytime, Rose." Julie smiled. "I've always wanted a sister." She shrugged. "Having you here is kind of like having one."

"Honestly, Julie," Rose began. "I've always wanted a sister, too. So I'm really glad we became friends and that we are living in the same house. This is great having someone to talk to about dating Rodney and clothes and hair and stuff."

There was a loud knock on the bathroom door.

"Hey, that guy's here." Lionel spoke in a loud voice from the other side of the door.

"That guy is named Rodney," Julie scolded. "We'll be right there."

"Wow, someone isn't happy," Rose mumbled.

"Yeah, he can be ridiculous," Julie commented as they walked out the door and down the stairs.

"Rose, you look great!" Rodney stated when he spotted her, his arms outstretched for a hug.

Rose ran down the stairs and into Rodney's embrace. She pulled away and stared into his eyes. He was looking down at her and smiling.

"Julie, this is Rodney," Rose introduced him to her friend. "And Rodney, this is my friend, Julie."

Julie introduced herself and began chatting about what they were planning to do at the Tower of London. Rose noticed Lionel rolling his eyes.

"Well, let's go," Lionel suggested.

They walked down the street to the nearest Tube station. They took the Picadilly Line on the Tube and then switched trains at the King's Cross Station to ride the Circle Line. As they rode along, Julie shared her opinion on a variety of matters, such as why big sales should happen more frequently at stores and why they should create a Tube line that did not require you to change trains. Lionel, Julie, and Rodney added a phrase or two to her monologues. After over half an hour in the trains, the four friends arrived at their stop and walked from the station to the Tower of London. Feeling hungry, they decided to get lunch at a nearby French café before doing the tour of the Tower.

After eating a lunch of croissant sandwiches, Julie, Rose, Lionel, and Rodney left the restaurant and purchased their tickets for the Tower of London. Rodney grabbed Rose's hand and held it as they walked. He purchased her ticket and whispered sweet words into her ear.

It's really like I have a boyfriend, even though he hasn't officially asked me out yet. She realized. I like this. I like this a lot.

Lionel ignored Rodney's presence almost the entire time as they walked through the main gate and among the buildings at the Tower. Lionel appeared to be enthralled by the history of the place, but he did not acknowledge Rodney unless he spoke to him first. Rodney politely asked Lionel a few historical questions, just to make conversation.

They decided to check out the Crown Jewels last. Rose noticed Rodney's eyes grow wide when he saw the Queen's crown. Julie was also in awe, which she expressed through words.

"Wow, that's beautiful!" she cried with enthusiasm. "I just love gemstones. Do you love gemstones, Rose? I know they say diamonds are a girl's best friends, but I think gemstones are to die for. Of course, I do love diamonds, too. Rodney, do you like gemstones?"

"Well, actually, yes," Rodney admitted. "I do. In fact, I'm one of the managers at a small jewelry store near Buckingham Palace."

"Really?" Julie was in clearly in awe. "Oh, I'd love to see it! I just love jewelry."

"Well, you'll have to come by sometime," Rodney suggested politely.

They enjoyed the rest of their time looking at the Crown Jewels before leaving for the gift shop. Julie purchased several Tower of London trinkets while Rose browsed with Rodney, holding hands as they walked. Lionel entertained himself in a far corner of the store, which had a shelf of history books having to do with the Tower.

"Not very sociable, that one," Rodney commented, gesturing toward where Lionel stood, his face in a book.

"He's just shy," Rose replied, trying to distract from Lionel's behavior.

"I don't think he likes me."

"It's his problem, not yours, if he doesn't," Rose told Rodney.

They left the Tower of London and went their separate ways home. Rodney promised to call Rose the next day.

* * *

"I was wondering if you'd like to go out dancing with me again?" Rodney asked her the next afternoon on the phone. "Same place, at eight o' clock tomorrow."

"I'd love to!" Rose exclaimed. "I'll meet you there."

"I promise that you'll have a better time this time," Rodney assured her.

"Oh, but Rodney, I had a great time before!" Rose reassured him. "I just felt a little sick toward the end."

"Well, I'm glad that you do have some good memories," Rodney replied. "See you tomorrow at eight!"

Julie let Rose borrow another dress, this one white with black satin edges and a long, flowing skirt. Julie touched up her hair and let her borrow her red shoes. Rose took a cab to the club, where Rodney was waiting for her at the door.

Rose ran up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He smiled in the same pleasant way as before, but did not hug her back for long. He suddenly pulled away from their hug and led her inside by the arm.

Puzzled, Rose followed him to their table. Feeling bold after they had ordered dinner, Rose leaned over to kiss Rodney. He turned his head so that all she could kiss was his cheek. Disappointed and confused, Rose took a sip of her ginger ale and stared at the dancing couples out on the floor.

She and Rodney danced several dances, but it was nothing like before. He didn't hold her as quite as close or stroke her back. He didn't cradle her body as he had before. He didn't press himself against her as they danced.

Their conversation in the cab ride home seemed the same as last time. It was light-hearted and full of interest. They laughed and joke together. But it was Rose who took Rodney's hand this time.

Maybe I was coming on too strong before, Rose decided. I need to take a step back and let him initiate things.

"I like you a lot," Rodney told her in the cab as they neared the Douglass's house. "But I want to take things slow. You are young and I don't want to rush anything."

"Okay," Rose agreed. "That's probably best." Her mind told her that his suggestion was the most sensible thing to do, but part of her still wanted more.

* * *

On Monday morning, Mrs. Douglass and Rose sat down together in her office. It was Rose's first day of work, and she was thrilled to be independent.

"Well, let's start with what I need your help with." Mrs. Douglass spoke with a pleasant voice. "I do some of the bookkeeping for the Embassy. Mostly expenses and things like that. Most of the files are kept at the Embassy, but I'm also working on a language project. It's an analysis of Americans living in England who speak multiple languages. So those items are kept in my files here at the house. I'll need to you keep these files organized."

Rose nodded.

Mrs. Douglass continued. "On Mondays and Wednesdays, I go to the Embassy to do some work and take files and paperwork home. You will help me carry these items back to the house. Do you know where the U.S. Embassy is?"

Rose shook her head.

"It's very close to Hyde Park. Here, I'll show you today. Anyway, we can do most of the file work on Mondays and Wednesdays. Tuesdays are my errand day. I do shopping and make lists for the staff of what needs to get done. If we are hosting any foreign diplomats, I prepare the menus. So you will help me with those things."

"Okay, that sounds good," Rose replied.

"So you'll have Thursday through Sunday off," Mrs. Douglass added. "Every Wednesday I'll pay you sixty British pounds for the week."

"Thank you," Rose said graciously. "That's very generous."

"You are most welcome, Rose. I'll honestly be glad to have some extra help around here."

"I'm glad to help."

"Julie starts work at the hospital tomorrow. She also has a Monday through Wednesday schedule, so I thought that this would work out well. Then you girls can go out and have a good time on the days you both aren't working."

Rose smiled. Mrs. Douglass was so thoughtful.

"I really appreciate that," Rose told her.

Mrs. Douglass nodded and then turned back to her desk. "Shall we get to work? Let me show you how I organize the files."

"Sounds great," Rose said with eagerness. Though her new job seemed to be lacking in the area of excitement, she knew that she would be paid well and could finally have the independent life she desired.

* * *

Over the next three weeks, Rose fell into a routine that she enjoyed. She worked on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays with Mrs. Douglass. During her working hours, she enjoyed her conversations with her new boss. Rose began to admire Mrs. Douglass as a mother-like figure, which was something she longed for in her life. On the other days of the week, Rose spent a lot of time with Lionel and Julie, as well as Rodney.

Rose and Julie went out shopping on most afternoons on their days off. Julie always spent a lot more in the shops than Rose did. But slowly, Rose used her earnings to build up a small wardrobe for herself, which she was proud of. She had never been able to really select her clothes before. With the money she earned, Rose purchased dresses, pants, shoes, scarves, make-up, and fashion jewelry. The small wardrobe in her bedroom at the Douglass house was soon filled with these items.

At least twice a week, Julie, Lionel, and Rose visited a famous historical site in London, usually on the weekends. Some days Rodney came with them. Lionel continued to dislike Rodney, which Rose ignored. Rose and Julie would roll their eyes when he made rude comments about Rose's new boyfriend. But despite Lionel's attitude toward Rodney, Rose enjoyed her friend's company. They got to know one another better and Rose knew she could always count on Lionel as a true friend.

Rodney and Rose went on a lunch date every Friday. Every Saturday night, they went out dancing together. Rodney continued to take things slow with Rose, which she was beginning to grow weary of. On their lunch dates they talked and on their Saturday night dates they danced and cuddled in the cab on the way home. Besides that, it was all holding hands and quick pecks on the cheek. This is a little too slow for me, Rose kept thinking. She had given up trying to kiss Rodney or initiate anything else after his desire to "take things slow" caused him to reject her advances.

"Rodney must be really old fashioned," Julie told her. "It's a good thing he has so many other redeeming qualities, like his good looks, his straight teeth, and his awesome personality."

"Yeah, a little too old fashioned," Rose replied.

"Well, isn't he from the Midwest?" Julie brought up. "Things are different out on the farm."

"I guess so," Rose said with hesitation. "Except I don't think he ever lived on a farm. He never mentioned any farms."

Despite all the time Rose spent with Rodney, she had still not told him about trying to find her birth mother or the abusive woman who raised her. She had started to tell him several times and then stopped. I don't want him to think I'm a complete weirdo, she told herself. She wanted to be honest, but she did not want to risk ruining Rodney's good opinion of her.

Rose tried to forget about her frustrations with Rodney being too old fashioned and enjoy each day in London. Having no clue where to search next for Loretta Jennings, she focused her energy on socializing and sightseeing.

Together, Rose, Lionel, and Julie visited the British Museum (Lionel insisted that they stay for nearly six hours), the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, the Tower Bridge, and St. Paul's Cathedral. Rose and Julie took a river ferry down the Thames. Rose was delighted by the beauty of the architecture and the richness of the art in London. They went to a London show, Carousel by Rogers and Hammerstein. Rose had never seen a professional play before, she quickly fell in love with the stage. She and Julie grew closer, despite her friend's incessant chatter.
Chapter Twelve

Rose had leafed through the pages of the Rose in the Countryside book from Mrs. Harrison a few times before tucking it away in a drawer and forgetting about it. Occasionally Rose would open the drawer and spot it inside. She would briefly think of Mrs. Harrison with a smile before shutting the drawer again.

On the first Friday evening in July, Rodney called, as he always did. On Fridays they chatted for awhile and made plans for their date the following evening.

"I'm so sorry, Rose," Rodney apologized as soon as she said hello.

Rose felt her heart sink.

"Why, Rodney?"

"Well, something unexpectedly came up at work and I can't take you out tomorrow night," Rodney told her.

"Oh," Rose responded with disappointment.

"I hate to do this, but I am a manager at the store," Rodney explained. "But I'll tell you what. I'll take you out on Friday afternoon. How does that sound?"

"Fantastic," Rose agreed.

"Okay, terrific. I'll call you on Friday morning and we can arrange a time and a place for us to meet. Sound good?" Rodney's voice sounded eager.

"Yes, that's great," Rose replied, feeling slightly less disappointed.

"Okay, Friday it is! See you then."

"Bye, Rodney," Rose replied, trying to mask the disappointment which was evident in her voice.

After they said good-bye, Rose hung up the phone and began tapping her fingers on the table, deep in thought. She absently opened the drawer of the desk that the telephone sat on and spotted the book from Mrs. Harrison. Thinking of her old friend, she took the book out of the door and began flipping through the pages.

She turned to the last page in the book, one she had not noticed before. It featured a black and white photograph of the author, L. G. Jenner. The mini biography explained that the author had been writing stories about little Rose and her adventures in the country for fourteen years. L.G. Jenner did all of the writing and the illustrations for her books. She lived in the countryside near Kettering in England.

Rose's eyes glanced back at the photograph of L. G. Jenner. Something about her seemed familiar. She studied the woman's face again. Can it be? Rose thought as her eyes grew wide.

This woman looked very much like the person who she believed to be her true mother, her birth mother, Loretta Grigsby Jennings. L.G. Jenner's face appeared older and sadder, but otherwise the resemblance was uncanny from what Rose remembered of the photographs in the newspaper clippings. Her heart began racing.

Forgetting about Rodney's disappointing phone call, Rose rushed away to find Lionel. She hurried up the stairs and down the hall to his room. Approaching it, she softly, but excitedly, began knocking on the door.

"Lionel! Lionel! Please open the door!" Rose called to him, trying to keep her voice at a volume that would not wake up the whole house.

Rose heard sounds of him moving inside. She bit her lip, anxious for him to answer. Slowly, he opened the door and stood in front of her in his pajama pants with his shirtless chest bare. His hair was in tangles. Rose blushed and looked down.

"What's wrong, Rose?" he asked, his voice sounding concerned.

"Lionel, look at this woman!" Rose said excitedly, shoving the book into his hands, suddenly forgetting that Lionel was standing in front of her half naked.

He examined the photograph with a puzzled expression on his face.

"I think she's my mother," Rose added. "My birth mother. The woman I've been looking for!"

"You really think so?" Lionel asked. "Why do you think?"

Rose quickly explained the photographs from the newspaper which she had found in the box under the floor. She explained the other obvious similarities. The name, L. G. Jenner, was similar to Loretta Grigsby Jennings. And the main character in the books she authored, Rose, was a little girl with her own birth name and similar features.

"But are you really sure it's her?" Lionel asked, his voice doubtful.

"Well, I don't know for sure," Rose responded. "But it wouldn't hurt to find out, would it?"

"So, tomorrow let's take the train to Kettering," Lionel said with a smile.

"Thank you, Lionel!" Rose exclaimed, surprised. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. For a moment, she felt his bare chest against her and the warmth of his body.

Lionel hugged her back and did not let go. Rose finally pulled away and realized her cheeks were red.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I guess I'm just excited."

"No apology necessary," Lionel said quietly with a smile on his face.

They awkwardly said good-night and Lionel told her he would wake her up in the morning.

* * *

Rose lay awake in bed thinking about tomorrow's train ride into the country to hopefully meet the woman who was her birth mother. What will I say? Rose wondered. How will I tell this woman that I think I'm her daughter? Will L. G. Jenner be easy to find? And once I find her, will L.G. Jenner truly be Loretta Grigsby Jennings?

Then Rose's mind went to the moment when she hugged Lionel. It had been awkward, but that was mostly because she had felt embarrassed. She realized that she had liked the feeling of his body against hers. And he had hugged her right back. Gosh, what am I thinking? It's Lionel. He's a nice guy, but... he's no Rodney.

There was so much to think about. Tomorrow, she might find her birth mother. Tomorrow she might find her place in life. She might find peace and love and comfort. Rose wrapped her arms around her chest.
Chapter Thirteen

Lionel knocked on her door at four in the morning. Rose glanced toward the window and noticed that it was still quite dark outside. She blinked her eyes in the darkness of her bedroom.

"Wake up, Rose!" Lionel whispered loudly from the other side of the door. "I want to catch the five am train. Hurry up! I left a note for my parents telling them we decided to take a ride into the country, so they won't miss us. Come on, wake up!"

"I'm up, I'm up," Rose grumbled, lifting her tired body out of the bed. She quickly brushed her hair and teeth, and slipped into a sundress.

Twenty minutes later, they were out the door. Rose wore her rain coat, because it was still the only coat she had and the morning air was a bit chilly. Lionel grabbed her hand to hurry her along. She pressed her lips together to hide her smile as they jogged toward the nearest Tube station. It was still dark outside, but a little light was beginning to peek through the trees and from behind the shorter buildings on the streets.

As they rode on the train and spoke in quiet voices, Rose realized that Lionel looked more attractive than normal, with his dark hair swooping down over his forehead. She remembered their hug the night before and hoped that she had not blushed at the memory of it.

The train jolted to a stop.

"This is our stop," said Lionel as he jumped out of his seat. "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Let's go." He gently grabbed her arm and led her through the crowds and to the door. They climbed several flights of stairs up to where the aboveground trains rested, waiting all in a row to leave. Lionel purchased their tickets and they boarded the train heading North with eight minutes to spare.

By the time they left the station, the full dawn had come. Rose pressed her face against the window and smiled as the buildings became fewer and fewer and the trees more and more. Soon there were pastures and villages and cottages. This was exactly what she thought of when she thought of the English countryside. She spotted quaint and welcoming signs for towns and villages along the way: St. Albans, Luton, Toddington, Flitwick, Bedford, and Wellingborough.

Lionel was silent for most of the journey. He pointed out a few pretty scenes along the way and made a handful of polite comments, but that was all.

Rose smiled so widely that her cheeks became sore after she saw the sign for the town of Kettering. I'm here. I'm finally here. I'm going to see my mother today. I am going to see her face to face and say to her, "It's me! It's me, your daughter, Rose Garnet Jennings!"

"Here we are," Lionel said when the train stopped. Rose grabbed her purse and jumped up. She hurried away down the aisle, almost leaving Lionel behind.

"Hey, wait for me!" he called after her. Rose barely heard him.

Rose stepped off the train and into the warm morning sunlight. The long, red brick building had several tall chimneys which seemed to reach to the blue, cloudless sky. It was a perfect day. Rose breathed in the fresh, country air. Lionel caught up to her and followed as she went to the ticket counter.

"Getting the return tickets already?" Lionel asked.

"No," said Rose with determination. "I'm sure L.G. Jenner takes the train into London sometimes. That's where her publisher is. I already researched it. I'm just going to ask this man if he knows where she lives."

"That's a good idea."

Rose stepped up to the glass window. An old man with white hair and spectacles stood in front of her. He was short and wearing a green vest.

"Pardon me, sir," she said. "I was wondering if you knew where the children's author, L.G. Jenner, lives."

"L.G. Jenner," the man repeated. "Well, I have heard that she lives around here. But I'm afraid that I have never caught a glimpse of her here in the railway station."

Rose nodded in disappointment. "Thank you, sir."

"So, where else should we look?" Rose asked, exasperated.

"Well, she has to buy food somewhere. So let's ask someone in the grocery store," Lionel suggested.

"I like that idea!" said Rose, feeling a bit more hopeful.

They wandered out into the street. They looked right and left, and saw many small shops, but no grocery store. They continued to walk, and glanced around as they did.

"Should we go left or right?" Lionel asked.

"Um, let's try right," suggested Rose. They walked along for several blocks until they were out of Kettering and in a nearby village called Eldershire. In Eldershire, they found a small grocery store.

Rose went in and waited in line to speak to a cashier. The women in front of her in line were babbling on about the price of hamburger beef. A man in front of them was counting a handful of coins. After several minutes, it was finally Rose's turn in the line.

"Can I help you, miss?" the young cashier asked when she saw that Rose had no grocery items to purchase.

"Oh, yes," said Rose. "I'm looking for the author, L.G. Jenner. Do you know where she lives?"

"Hm, L.G. Jenner," the woman mumbled. "I do recall that she lives outside of town somewhere off of Abbotsford Road. I can't say for certain, however."

"That's good enough, thank you," Rose said, smiling, as she walked away.

"Wait," said the girl. "I have to warn you. I've heard she's a bit of a loner and that she isn't too friendly. She might not want visitors."

"Thank you," said Rose, her smile fading. What if her mother refused to speak to her?

Rose found Lionel staring at the cheeses in the dairy aisle. "You hungry?" she asked when she saw him, laughing.

"Well, now that you mention it, yes," Lionel replied. Rose told him about her findings.

"What if she won't even answer the door for us?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

"Let's not even think about that," Lionel said, touching her arm. "Let's go find a restaurant and eat some breakfast. Maybe we can ask around a little more, as well. This Abbotsford Road could be long. Sometimes country roads are that way, you know? Seemingly endless."

Rose smiled and nodded, even though she had never really been on a country road before and had no knowledge of such things. They walked to a restaurant next door and ordered traditional English breakfasts of hard boiled eggs, steaming hot baked beans, sliced red tomato, and crispy sausages. Rose's stomach rumbled as the large plate was set before her. She ate hungrily.

"Slow down," Lionel joked. "You don't want to choke."

Rose smiled and reached across to hit him on the arm playfully. He smiled back and shook his head.

"Admitting defeat already?" Rose glanced at him coyly.

"Well, I'm not going to hit a girl," he told her.

"Why not? I dare you to try," Rose challenged him.

"Oh, I see how it is." Lionel grinned. He reached over and grabbed her wrist. "What are you going to do now?"

With all her strength, Rose pulled her arm away. "Not very strong today, are you?" She winked.

"I'm just going easy on you," Lionel admitted.

"Well, you don't need to," Rose informed him. "I'm stronger than you think."

He reached out to grab her arm and she pulled it away, laughing. Behind her, someone coughed loudly.

"We'd better stop," she said, suddenly aware of their surroundings. "We might get kicked out of the restaurant for being disruptive."

"Oh yes," Lionel said with a fake British accent. "We are in jolly old England, where things must be very proper. Very proper indeed."

"Indeed, indeed!" Rose replied with her own attempt at an accent. She lifted a bone china cup of tea to her lips with her pinky out.

Rose felt more hopeful than she had in as long as she could remember. In the next few hours, she could be standing in front of L.G. Jenner. She could be locking eyes with her birth mother, at last.
Chapter Fourteen

Lionel paid for a cab to take them to the beginning of Abbotsford Road, which lay to the East of the town of Kettering and the village of Eldershire. Vast fields sloped down, dotted with trees. Among them were cottages and barns here and there.

"We should walk," Rose had suggested earlier. "We may see a name on a mailbox or on a sign above the door. These are things we might miss if we are driving."

Lionel agreed, even though he had reminded her that the road was probably long. They began their trek, talking along the way. The first cottage looked abandoned, and the next one had the name "Hendrick" on the mailbox. They passed several signs bearing other names, including Smyth, Watson, Anderson, and Pennington.

The next cottage had no name on the mailbox or the house to identify it. The roof sloped down and the windows were diamond shaped. It was made of worn grey stone.

"Should we knock on the door?" Rose asked with hesitation.

Lionel shrugged. "I guess so."

They walked up the winding dirt path and down a slight hill to the front door. Rose took a deep breath and raised her hand to knock hard on the door.

No answer.

She knocked again, this time harder. Still, no one came to the door. There were no signs of life from inside.

"Could we check back here later, maybe?" she asked.

"Of course," agreed Lionel.

They continued on. The road became dusty. Soon Rose's ankles and legs were covered in dust, as well as her shoes. The day became warm and her hair was soon plastered to her face and her clothes stuck to her skin. Of course, I look disheveled to meet my birth mother, Rose thought with disappointment. She glanced over at Lionel, who appeared to be equally dusty and sweaty.

The next building was a barn, and the one after that had a family name on the mailbox. They passed a dairy farm and an abandoned stone house. Up ahead, they could see a small, plaster-walled cottage on the right, which was set near the road. Rose quickened her step. She felt drawn to this quaint cottage, which was only a couple yards away from the dusty road they walked on.

Rose knocked firmly on the door. A minute later, an older woman with messy white hair and a stained apron pulled open the door with a loud creak. She squinted her eyes at Rose.

"Yes, can I help you?" she asked with skepticism.

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am," Rose said. "But we are looking for the author, L.G. Jenner. Does she live here?"

"Hmph, author," the woman muttered. "Yes, I think I do recall some author lady living near here," she said, more loudly this time. "If you go down the road about half a mile, there should be a small cottage with a flower garden in front. It's on the left and it's beyond a patch of trees. It's set back from the road, so you have to be looking for it. It's quite hidden, you see. I believe that is where the author lady lives."

"Oh, thank you, ma'am!" Rose said, smiling.

"Now, I'll warn you," the woman continued. "I have heard that she likes to keep to herself. She doesn't welcome visitors. So she may not even answer the door for you. She's not as pleasant as I am. When I heard you knocking, I stopped my canning to come here and speak to you two."

"We are sorry to take you away from your canning!" Rose apologized, her voice filled with excitement at the information from the woman. "Thank you very much for the information!"

Rose practically skipped down the road when they set off again. She quickened her pace, determined to find the cottage tucked behind a patch of trees with a flower garden in front. She no longer minded the dust or the sweat.

"Rose, I don't want you to get your hopes up," Lionel cautioned. "That lady said she believes that's where the author lives."

"It has to be it. It has to!" Rose exclaimed. "She spoke so specifically about this little cottage. It has to be." Rose's walk turned into a jog.

"Hey, wait up!" Lionel called after her.

Together, they tromped across the dusty road. They went up a hill and then down. As they walked, the road curved slightly. They stopped for a few moments beneath the shade of a large tree.

"I wish I had some water," Lionel noted.

Rose nodded in agreement.

"Maybe we can find a brook nearby," suggested Lionel.

"A brook?" asked Rose. "Like, a stream? Drink water from a stream, just like that?" Her eyes grew wide.

Lionel laughed. "Oh, Rose, you are such a city girl. The water is clean here in the country."

"Oh," said Rose, feeling slightly embarrassed.

They left the shady area and walked down an embankment, where they soon heard the trickle of a brook. They followed the sound until they found a dip in the land nearby and a narrow stream winding through it. They cupped their hands and took large, quick gulps of water. Washing the dust off their legs and feet, Rose and Lionel splashed around in the cool, shallow water. When they were through drinking, they continued to walk down the dusty road. The sun kissed Rose's cheeks and nose, and she felt as if more freckles were about to appear on her already dotted face face. She shielded her eyes from the brightness of the sunlight with her hand as she viewed the landscape.

They climbed back up the embankment and walked back onto the dusty road. Rose's legs were getting tired, but she pressed on. Her determination was giving her strength with each step she took.

"We've walked almost half a mile!" Rose exclaimed. "Where is it?"

"Let's look carefully, now. She said that the house was hidden," Lionel responded, motioning toward the countless rows of trees.

Rose and Lionel scanned the scenery. Seeing nothing, they continued walking. Their walk seemed endless, but they persisted. The sun was high in the sky and it beat down on their shoulders.

"Look, Lionel!" Rose said, pointing to the left. "Do you see something on the other side of those trees over there?"

Lionel squinted. He shaded his eyes with his hand. Slowly, he began nodding.

"Yes, I do see something," he answered with excitement.

Rose took a deep breath. "I don't know if I'm ready for this," she whispered, hugging her shoulders.

"Of course you are," Lionel said comfortingly. "This is the moment you've been waiting for."

"I know, but what will I say?" Rose asked. "I've thought about it so many times, but I still don't know what I'll say. This is all so strange. I have no clue what I'm doing. What if I say the wrong thing?"

"I'd say, just bring it up gently," Lionel told her. "Ask first about her daughter, Rose. Then bring up that you think you are that very same Rose. Tell her what you found in the hidden box. I guess this is all harder than any advice I can give you." Lionel said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "But I'll be here. I'll be here right next to you. We are friends, aren't we?" Rose nodded and he continued. "Well, friends are there for one another. Don't worry, Rose. You'll find the words to say when the time comes. I know you will. You are braver than you think, really."

"Thank you, Lionel," she replied. But she still felt a nagging nervousness. Her head began pounding.

"Now let's go down this path here and figure out if this is even the right place," Lionel suggested, starting toward the cluster of trees.

"It is," said Rose. "I know it is. It has to be."

They walked down a dirt path, which was slightly overgrown. After a short while, they came to the patch of trees. The path was winding through the tree cluster. After the trees, they could see the little cottage, which had a bright and colorful flower garden in front of it. The place was neat and tidy in comparison to the overgrown path. It truly did look like a picture on a calendar or an illustration in a children's book. It's absolutely perfect, Rose thought happily to herself.

Rose marched up to the door and knocked loudly and with confidence. This is it, she thought, still in disbelief that she was actually here, about to meet her birth mother. Her heart pounded wildly and she began to shake, but Lionel was there with his hand on her shoulder.
Chapter Fifteen

There was no answer. Rose knocked again, harder this time. Nothing. Once more, she knocked. This time, she heard stirring from the other side of the door. It sounded like two pots clanking together and a chair scraping on the floor. With persistence, Rose knocked again.

Rose heard more sounds. She waited. She thought she saw the curtain at the window beside the door flutter, but she couldn't be sure. She waited several minutes. Then she knocked again.

"Who is it?" Asked a soft, suspicious sounding female voice from the other side of the door.

Rose paused for a moment, not sure of what to say. "My name is Rose Porter, and this is my friend, Lionel Douglass."

"What do you want?" Asked the voice again. The tone of the woman's voice was almost rude, but still kind in a strange sort of way.

"I read your book about Rose who lives in the countryside," Rose said suddenly, before even really realizing what she was saying. "I just love it. I was wondering if you could please sign my copy?" Rose was thankful that she had the book in her purse.

Ten seconds passed. Then the door opened, ever so slowly. In front of them stood a tall, slender woman with brown curls, which had strands of grey in them here and there. Her eyes were green and her face showed signs of age. It was a kind face, though the eyes were full of pain.

"I don't usually have readers come to my house," the woman said with a slight bit of annoyance. "I'm surprised you were even able to find me."

Rose just smiled. She held out the book with a pen.

"Pleased to meet you," Rose said politely.

The woman took the book. "What was your name again?"

"Rose Porter."

The woman scribbled something onto the book and handed it back.

"Enjoy your book," the woman said. She started to close the door.

"Wait!" Rose cried. "Please, wait."

"Yes?" said the woman.

"I don't know how to say this, but I wanted to ask about your daughter, Rose." Rose spoke fast because she was so afraid.

The woman's eyes grew wide. Her mouth hung open in shock, and she began to slowly shake her head.

"I-I don't have a daughter," she stammered. "I have no children."

"I've read the newspaper articles," said Rose. "I know about Rose."

"I think it's time for you to go now," the woman said firmly, beginning to close the door again.

"Please, don't!" Rose begged. "I am Rose. I'm Rose Garnet Jennings, your daughter."

The woman stopped. Her eyes filled with tears and her face turned white. "What?" she asked.

"I'm Rose," Rose repeated. "I'm Rose and I've been looking for you."

The woman began shaking her head. A tear streamed down her left cheek.

"This can't be," she said. "This is some kind of a cruel trick."

"It's not!" Rose protested. "I'm Rose! I'm your Rose!"

The woman shook her head again. "As I said, I think it's time for you to go." She slammed the door.

Rose stood before the door in shock. Lionel, who had been silent the entire time, took her hand. What now? Rose wondered.

This isn't how it was supposed to go! Rose thought mournfully. She was supposed to call me Rose and reach out her arms to me. We were supposed to sob in each other's warm embrace, longing for all of the years that we missed together. We were supposed to talk for hours and hours about all that had happened in our lives the past eighteen years.

Rose turned to Lionel. "What do I do, Lionel?" She asked helplessly.

"Well, obviously she wants to be left alone right now," he said in a quiet voice. He rubbed her arms. "But I have an idea. Let's write my parents' address and telephone number in the front page of this book. We'll leave it here for her. Then she knows where to reach you if she changes her mind."

"And what if she doesn't change her mind, Lionel?" Rose asked, her voice filled with sadness.

"She can't deny her own daughter. Especially not after seeing you in the flesh and talking to you. She had to have sensed that you were genuine."

Rose smiled. "You think so?"

"I know so," he replied with an encouraging smile.

"I hope she won't give up on me," whispered Rose, trying to shake off the feeling of utter disappointment that was weighing down on her heart. The almost constant feelings of uncertainty about her quest were replaced by a sinking feeling in her chest brought on by the rejection that she had just experienced.

"Come on, let's head back," Lionel said after writing the address and phone number on the book and leaving it on the doorstep.

"Okay," said Rose.

Lionel put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close for a moment before letting go. Momentarily, Rose felt warmth and comfort. The feeling quickly faded as a cool breeze touched her face and brought her back to the gloomy reality that she was facing. After her long search and her chance discovery through an illustrated children's book, her mother had rejected her.

Together, she and Lionel walked up and down hills and around bends in the road. They saw the same houses and barns. They saw the same fields and trees. The sun hid behind a cloud, which offered some relief from the heat.

They left Abbotsford Road and headed back toward town. They kept their eyes peeled for some sort of shop or hotel where they could call a cab. They finally found an inn after about half an hour of walking. They called the cab and rode took it back to the train station. In silence, Lionel and Rose walked up to the same man that they had spoken to earlier and purchased their return tickets home to London.

Their feet were sore from walking and they were covered in dried dust and sweat. Rose had a large blister on the bottom of her left foot, and another on the side of her right food. To take her mind off the disappointing encounter with her birth mother, Rose thought of how wonderful it would feel to take a shower, slip into a clean pair of pajamas, and put her feet up in bed. In the morning, after she woke up, she would soak her feet in Epsom salts to help ease the pain from her two blisters. Then she might even take a nap. She fell asleep on the train thinking those same thoughts, trying to ignore the pain of rejection that was slowly gnawing away at her heart.
Chapter Sixteen

Rodney called Rose on Sunday morning and suggested that they have tea.

"I know of a great little bakery near my store," he told her.

"I'd love that!" Rose told him. "My sweet tooth has been begging for a treat all morning."

Rodney chuckled. "Okay, I'll come get you at two."

Rose wore her new yellow sundress and a pair of sandals. She pinned her hair back and spritzed a borrowed bottle of perfume on her neck. Then she waited by the front door until Rodney arrived.

Together they strolled to the main street and then found a cab. Their cab stopped near the bakery and they walked there at a slow pace.

"How was your work at the store yesterday? Didn't you have a meeting?" Rose asked him.

"It was all fine."

"I think it's really cool that you manage a jewelry store," Rose told him. "I'll bet you get to see really interesting jewelry piece all the time." She secretly hoped he might give her jewelry as a gift sometime. She had never received a gift like that before.

"Oh, really? Why?" Rodney asked her.

"I don't know, I just think that jewelry is so beautiful," Rose told him. "It seems like a really important job, to manage such valuable things."

Rodney smiled with pride. "I like to think it is." They continued to walk. "Hey," Rodney said suddenly. "Want to see my store? It's just down the street."

"Sure," Rose agreed, feeling excited.

They turned down a street and stopped in front of a large jewelry shop. The sign read Herald's Jewelers, Established 1894. A row of diamond necklaces was on display in the front window.

"Wow, this is all beautiful." Rose spoke breathlessly. "You manage all this?"

"Yes, I do," Rodney told her. He waved his hand, motioning to several display cases. "I take care of all of this." His voice was full of pride.

"Wow, it's amazing."

Rodney smiled.

Around the store were over a dozen customers and half a dozen clerks. Everyone respectfully greeted Rodney as "Mr. Martin." Rose felt very important as she hung on his arm.

"Would you like to try on a piece?" Rodney asked her.

Rose could feel her heart beating in her chest. "Yes," she cried with excitement.

Rodney took Rose's hand and led her to a case in the corner. "Take out the Juliette," he instructed the clerk. The woman obeyed immediately and lifted a beautiful necklace that had scores of diamonds set in white gold. The diamonds encircled the entire necklace.

"Now, turn around," he ordered Rose. She eagerly did what he asked and lifted her hair. She felt the cool heaviness of the necklace as it rested on her shoulders. She dropped her hair and let Rodney spin her around to gaze in the mirror.

"Wow," she breathed. "It's beautiful."

"You look amazing," he whispered in her ear.

"I love it," she whispered. I've never worn real jewelry before, Rose realized. I love how this necklace looks on my neck. I love how the diamonds sparkle. I've been missing out.

Rodney helped Rose take the necklace off. After glancing around for a few more minutes, Rose and Rodney walked to the bakery. They enjoyed a hot pot of tea and a plate full of scones. They finished their time with a sponge cake.

After leaving the bakery, Rodney took Rose to the Tube station so she could go home. He walked with his arm around her. This would be the perfect moment for him to kiss me, Rose thought with eagerness. Will he? Maybe I should kiss him.

Looking down at Rose, Rodney gazed into her eyes. She lifted her chin and parted her lips. Do it. Do it, she silently implored him. Rodney leaned down and pressed his lips against Rose's forehead. Her heart sank.

"Good-bye for now, sweet Rose," Rodney said in a soft tone and walked away.

Rose stared after him, gaping. Is there something wrong with him? Is there something wrong with me? Shaking her head, Rose turned around to walk down the stairs to catch the train. Wait, Rose thought suddenly, stopping mid-step. What if he doesn't really like me? What if he found someone else and he just can't bring himself to break it to me? I just need to ask him. I need to ask him what is going on.

* * *

Mrs. Douglass had an extra busy workload the next week. Rose worked an additional four hours, which she was paid additional money for. A French diplomat was coming, and Mrs. Douglass was preparing the menu for a special meal. She wanted to fuse French, English, and American cuisines for the occasion. Because of this, Rose spent most of the day on Tuesday going from market to market to buy ingredients. Each item was carefully handwritten on Mrs. Douglass' extensive grocery list. She went to a French grocery store, and then to a different one, which sold many American foods. Meanwhile, Julie was at work at the hospital and Lionel stayed home working on a writing assignment for his job.

By the end of the day on Tuesday, Rose was already exhausted. She soaked her feet in the bathtub for an hour while she read a book. It was a mystery novel which she had borrowed from Mrs. Harrison.

The book was about a young woman who was escaping her abusive ex-husband. She fled to Oregon to get away from him, but he followed her there. While Rose read, she began to hear thunder in the distance. She stopped to listen briefly before continuing on to the next chapter. She continued reading and reached a particularly suspenseful part of the book where the woman realizes that her ex-husband had followed her all the way to Oregon.

Rose's heart began to pound. What if Mother followed me here to London? Rose began to worry. Of course, she had seen no sign of Mother since coming to England. And really, Mother had no way of knowing where she was. But reading this book was beginning to make Rose jumpy. Maybe I should put it down, she thought to herself.

A clap of thunder crashed nearby and shook the house. Rose was so frightened that she jumped and the book flung out of her hand and hit the bathroom door with a loud thud.

Rose heard a knock on the door a minute later. "Rose?" came Julie's voice from the other side of the bathroom door. "Are you okay?" She jingled the doorknob and came inside.

"Yes, I'm fine," Rose told her. She sat on the edge of the bathtub in her pink, fluffy bathrobe. Her feet rested in the tub.

"What was that sound?"

"Oh, I got scared and dropped my book," Rose told her.

"Oh, that one?" Julie grinned. "Her ex husband dies at the end. Falls off a bridge."

"Wow, gee, thanks for telling me, Julie," Rose with sarcasm. "I'm only in the eighth chapter."

"Oops, sorry to ruin it for you," Julie apologized, embarrassed.

"When did you read it, anyway?" Rose asked.

"Oh, I didn't read it," Julie admitted. "I saw your copy out on the table and I just read last chapter."

"You just read the ending?" Rose asked in disbelief, her face showing how mortified she was.

"Yeah, I always do that," Julie told her matter-of-factly.

Rose's mouth hung open. "What?" Her eyes grew wide.

"I didn't want to spend all that time reading the whole book," Julie explained. "Reading a whole book takes way too long. So I always read the ending. Once in a while if I read an ending that is really fantastic, then I'll read the rest of the book."

Rose shook her head. "I'm not even going to try to understand this."

Julie laughed. "Lionel says the same thing."

"Well, I guess I'm done reading for the night," Rose said, lifting her feet out of the tub. "Will you hand me that towel?"

* * *

Rose attempted to fall asleep while thinking of Rodney. She kept thinking of how happy she would be to see his face again in a couple days. He was going to call her on Friday. I really like Rodney. I like him a lot.

The sound of a distant train whistle floated through the window. Rose glanced toward the window through the dark room. Seeing nothing but moonlight and lamplight outside, she turned over and hugged her pillow. She snuggled into it, daydreaming of Rodney and the warmth of his arms whenever they danced. She realized that she had become more fixated on him ever since she gave up hope on forming any kind of relationship with her birth mother days before.

Rose's mind drifted back to the painful moment when her birth mother shut the door as she stood outside on the front step. Once again, that seem sinking feeling came to her. Rose shook her head, as if to shake away the sense of rejection that she was battling constantly since that day.

After several more minutes of trying to sleep, Rose began to pay attention to the sound of light raindrops on the window. Again, she opened her eyes and glanced toward the tapping. Tiny droplets reflected the evening lamplight from outside. Chilly, she pulled the covers more closely over her. Finally, she fell into a deep sleep as she listened to the raindrops tap, tap, tap on the window.
Chapter Seventeen

Two weeks went by and Rose and Rodney continued their usual outings and dates. Then one day Rodney told Rose he had to go out of town for work.

"It's this big jewel show in Paris," he explained to Rose. "I'll miss you, but don't worry, I'll be back soon."

Rose felt her heart sink in disappointment when he gave her the news, but she was too busy to focus on her emotions. The Douglass family was hosting an embassy ball in their home, and Mrs. Douglass needed all the help she could get. Rose was paid extra by Mrs. Douglass to work every day the week before the ball. It was a masquerade party, and it would be quite formal.

Excitement filling her heart, she began to look forward to the party. Julie, of course, was overjoyed.

"The nephew of the Russian diplomat will be going, and I've heard he's hot," Julie told Rose one afternoon as they strung twinkle lights around the main entryway, which led into the foyer. Mrs. Douglass had been putting Julie to work with party preparations, as well.

"Oh, really?" Rose asked, suddenly curious.

"Absolutely," Julie told her. "I'm sure there will be other guys, too. This is going to be the event of the summer for me!"

"This will be the event of my life," Rose admitted with a laugh. "I never did anything back in New York. My mom was really, really strict."

"Ugh, that's the worst," Julie muttered as she continued to work. Julie's attempts at empathy were often weak.

Rose gazed at the large room. The foyer was large enough to be the dance floor. There was to be a dance instructor teaching two traditional waltzes and a foxtrot at the party. The rest of the evening there would be current music and modern dances. Mrs. Douglass was very traditional and she liked to throw in touches of the unique and customary at her parties. Rose only knew modern dances from her time with Rodney. Julie had been droning on about how waltzes were so old fashioned for weeks. Listening in silence, Rose had been sort of curious about these dances. She had recently been reading parts of Dickens and Austen novels in her spare time, which had piqued her curiosity about traditional dances and balls.

"Well, it was bad, but now I'm here," Rose chirped cheerfully. "I don't know what I'm going to wear yet, but I guess I'll figure it out."

"Hey, why don't we go shopping after this?" Julie proposed.

"Sure, sounds good."

"Gosh," Julie moaned. "I've been telling my mom to get a DJ for this party, but she won't listen. She's all about creating some sort of historical, traditional soirée or something. It sounds like a party they would have at the retirement home."

"Oh, come on, it won't be so bad," Rose insisted. "It's different. Let's just enjoy it."

"Sure, okay. Hey, I'll go ask mom if she needs help with anything else right now," Julie told Rose. "And if she doesn't, we can just go shopping now."

"Okay," Rose agreed.

Julie hopped down from the step ladder she was standing on and went upstairs to find her mom. She came back in a few minutes, Mrs. Douglass in tow.

"Of course you girls should go and have a good time when you're done," Mrs. Douglass told them, smiling. "It just so happens that I wanted to talk to you about shopping, Rose."

"Yes, Mrs. Douglass?" Rose responded politely.

"Well, you've gone above and beyond to help me with everything for the masquerade party," Mrs. Douglass explained. "So I would like to purchase your dress for the party as a way to say 'thank you.'"

Rose's cheeks turned red and her eyes grew wide. "Wow, thank you, Mrs. Douglass!" she exclaimed in shock. "Thank you very much. This is amazing."

"You are most welcome, Rose." Mrs. Douglass smiled in her usual pleasant way. "You deserve it. You're an incredibly hard worker."

"I can't thank you enough," Rose told Mrs. Douglass over and over again, her gratitude pouring out.

"You earned it," Mrs. Douglass reassured her. "Please, Rose, you don't need to thank me. You deserve this for all your hard work. Julie, you just write a check when Rose finds the dress she likes."

When Mrs. Douglass left the room, Julie exploded with excitement. "We're going shopping!" she howled.

"Okay, calm down and let's go," Rose told her, grinning.

They left and took the Tube toward the shopping area by the river. They left the station and walked down to the shopping area near Canary Wharf. Julie found three floor length gowns that she loved at one store and Rose attempted to help her friend make a decision. Rose noticed several dresses which she liked, but she wanted to choose something special. I'm going to look really pretty when I found my dress, she told herself and smiled. I've never worn a long gown before. I'll feel like a princess or something. I wish Rodney could be there.

"So I know of this fantastic little hat shop we can go to when we find our dresses," Julie told Rose after Julie decided not to buy any of the three dresses and they left the store. "They make custom masquerade masks. So we'll get our dresses and bring them in. Then they will design masks to match our gowns."

"Sounds great," Rose said.

As she waited for Julie outside of the dressing room, Rose became lost in her thoughts. I like this peaceful world of parties and shopping. It's so different from my life growing up. It's nice to get out and try different things.

At the next store, Julie found a bright purple off-the-shoulder taffeta dress. It had a large skirt and a sash. The dress made a swishing sound whenever Julie moved. She spun around in front of the mirror and her skirt encircled her.

"I love it," Rose enthused. "It's perfect on you."

"Me, too," Julie agreed. "This is the one I want."

Julie purchased the dress and they went on to the next store. Rose felt most drawn to the dresses which were deep colors of blue or green. She tried on half a dozen, but could not decide on one.

"I really like that off-the-shoulder style that you got, Julie," Rose told her. "And I love the full skirt. The taffeta is pretty, too."

"Okay, let's keep a look out for something similar," Julie said to her as the clerk boxed up her gown.

At the next store, Rose spotted a dark green taffeta dress with a full skirt and simple off-the-shoulder sleeves. A green rosette was set in the center. It was hanging up on a wall on display.

"Rose, your mouth is hanging open, this is a good sign," Julie commented, coming up along beside Rose.

Rose laughed. "Is it really? I guess I should try it on, then."

The dress fit Rose perfectly. She truly did feel like a princess with it on. She spun around and gazed down as her skirt flew all around her.

"This is the one," she told Julie. "It's similar to yours, but still different."

"Then let's get it!"

Julie and Rose had both their dresses delivered to the Douglass house. When the gowns arrived in the early evening, they hurried off in a cab to a nearby hat shop, which Julie had told Rose about. Once there, a woman examined the dresses and drew mask designs based on the fabric colors and gown styles. She promised to have them ready by Saturday afternoon, which was the day before the party. Rose could not wait.

* * *

Saturday morning came, and Rose could hardly contain her excitement. She got dressed and walked toward the stairs for breakfast. Lionel caught her in the hallway on the way down to breakfast. He was holding a newspaper in his hands. He extended the paper out to show it to Rose.

"Look at this!" he said quickly, excitement in his voice. "There was a big jewel robbery at this jewelry store near Buckingham Palace last night. The place is called Herald's Jewelers." He pointed to the third paragraph down in the article.

"Wow," Rose said with surprise in her voice. "That name sounds familiar. Have we been by there?"

"Not sure," Lionel replied. He stopped for a moment to think. "I just can't remember. But maybe." He pointed back to the first paragraph in the newspaper article. "It's the worst jewel robbery in London in over five years! More jewelry was stolen than any other robbery since 1989."

The article continued on the next page. There were a few black and white photos of the interior of the shop and of some of the missing pieces. There was another photograph of the shop sign.

"It's so strange," said Lionel. "It says here that there was no sign of entry at the store. They can't figure out how the thieves broke in."

"Hm," Rose mumbled. "No broken glass and no picked locks," she said, summarizing the information in the text as she read. "The alarm didn't even go off. The video tapes appear to have been stopped on purpose. Sometime stopped the recordings on all the tapes."

"Looks like we have a mystery on our hands," Lionel commented.

"Yes," Rose agreed. "Or, to be more specific, Scotland Yard has a mystery on their hands."

"Unless we solve it first!" Lionel exclaimed.

"Very funny," Rose replied sarcastically. She paused to read more. "I'd like to go by there, though. It all sounds so mysterious. It seems interesting."

"I guess it would be fun to peek through the windows and come up with our own theories of how it all happened."

"True," Rose replied.

"Let's go eat now and figure this out later."

"Well, let's go, then," Rose agreed. Together, they went downstairs to the breakfast room, still discussing the robbery. Seated at the table were Mr. and Mrs. Douglass and Julie. The three of them were also talking about all the details of the jewel robbery while Mr. Douglass held the newspaper.

"Did you hear about this?" Mr. Douglass asked his son.

Lionel nodded, placing his own newspaper on the table beside the bowl of scrambled eggs and the platter of steaming hot sausages. The father and son began discussing their opinions on the robbery.

Rose sliced the sausages on her plate. Their heat caused delicious smelling steam to rise up to her nose.

"Wait," Rose choked on a piece of sausage and began coughing. She covered her mouth with a white cloth napkin. When her coughing had ceased, she gasped out a realization that she had been to the jewelry shop before. "Herald's... that is the jewelry store Rodney manages!"
Chapter Eighteen

The Douglass family, who was sitting around the large table, all turned to look at Rose. Lionel jumped up to see if she was okay and the face of Mrs. Douglass was clouded with concern.

"Rose, are you okay?" She asked.

"I'm sorry," Rose apologized. "I'm sorry, everyone. It's just that, I realized this is the same jewelry store Rodney manages. I was just... surprised."

Julie raised her eyebrows, but turned back to her plate of eggs without a word. Lionel opened his mouth to speak but closed it instead.

He was going to say some snide remark about Lionel, Rose realized. She was glad when he did not speak.

* * *

The afternoon came, and with it plenty of rain. The rain was light enough that Lionel and Rose decided to don rain boots and umbrellas and venture out of the house. Rose also promised to pick up the masks for herself and Julie at the hat shop on the way back.

They walked to Buckingham Palace and then asked a man reading a newspaper on a park bench nearby how to get to the jewelry shop. He was sitting under his large black umbrella and the raindrops fell around him in a circle. He mumbled something and pointed to the left when they asked him for directions. They walked the way which he pointed and within a few minutes, they saw the sign for the jewelry shop up ahead.

Approaching the building, Rose remembered going there last time with Rodney. She stared, reliving her memories and the familiarity of the place came back to her. Lionel nudged her.

"Let's ask this guy what's going on," he suggested. He motioned to a man in a dark rain coat, jotting notes down on a notepad outside. Other men were milling around inside and others were walking in and out, boxes in their arms.

"Should we bother them?" Rose asked.

"Why not? Besides, it won't be a bother," Lionel reassured her. He turned to approach the man with the notepad. "Excuse me, sir, but do we know yet how the thieves got in?"

The man's head snapped up. Squinting his eyes at Lionel, the man frowned. "All information is confidential," he stated. Lionel nodded and mumbled an apology.

"Come on, Lionel. Did you really think they would tell you anything?" Rose pursed her lips and shook her head.

"Okay, but it doesn't hurt to ask," Lionel replied, defensive.

Rose shrugged.

"It's strange that Rodney worked here," Lionel said in a quiet voice. "Do you think he's in the store?"

"No, he's actually out of town this week. He comes back on Tuesday," Rose told Lionel. She sighed. "I'm actually so relieved. I'd be so worried that maybe he was hurt if he hadn't been away."

"Wow." Lionel's expression showed his surprise. "You don't think that's odd?" He grinned in a way that was full of mischief. "Hey, maybe Rodney robbed the store."

Rose gaped at him. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Yes, I was kidding. Don't be so touchy."

"Don't drag Rodney into this, then," Rose retorted.

Lionel took her by the arm and led her away from the jewelry shop. "Come on, let me take you to lunch."

"Okay," Rose agreed, glad to change the subject. She pulled her arm away, because she was still a bit cross with Lionel.

Sitting down on the covered patio at a quiet café, Rose and Lionel ordered tea and food. The rain had almost completely stopped and the sun was beginning to peek through the clouds. After the waiter left, Lionel began asking Rose questions.

"Now you're sure Rodney didn't sneak in the night to rob that shop?" Lionel joked.

Rose's mouth hung open as she listened to her friend speak. "Lionel," she hissed, anger welling up inside of her. "This is ridiculous. Rodney is not a jewel thief! He has nothing to do with this whole thing. He was away for work. I don't understand why you hate Rodney so much."

"I'm sorry, Rose," Lionel responded quickly. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was just joking."

"Well, it's not funny."

"Okay, I'll stop," he said to her. "And I don't hate Rodney, I just have a hard time trusting him, that's all."

Rose took a deep breath to control her frustrations toward Lionel's attitude about Rodney. "Lionel, I honestly think you have a hard time trusting anyone. You seem really suspicious of people all the time."

Lionel sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he agreed. "I just know that there is a lot of evil in the world. So I tend to be more suspicious."

Rose nodded. "You should try to be more positive."

"I guess I should," he mumbled. "I'll work on being more positive about Rodney. He hasn't done anything to make me suspicious. I'll work on it, I promise."

Rose reached out to squeeze Lionel's hand. "Thanks. That means a lot to me."

"This jewel robbery is so strange," Lionel said, changing the subject. "I keep thinking of different theories, but nothing makes sense."

"I can't wait to ask Rodney what he thinks when he comes back," Rose confessed with a hint of excitement. "I feel that we'll get a lot more insight into the whole thing when I see him. He would know all the ins and outs of the shop. He would know about all the entrances and all that."

"Yeah, true," Lionel said. He stopped and took a deep breath. "Okay, so this is my first attempt at being positive about Rodney. He does seem to take you to neat places when you two go out together. Like that one night club you told me about. I'm taking some pointers from him the next time I take a girl out."

"Yeah, he does take me the cool places," Rose agreed. She paused and then looked at Lionel across the table. "Do you date a lot back at Dartmouth?"

Lionel appeared to be taken aback by her question. "I do, some. I've gone out with maybe five or six girls since I started there. Just casual, no more than a few dates. Definitely nothing serious. I guess I'm just too busy during the semester. I focus a lot of my time and energy on school, and I also keep busy writing for work. Sometimes I do work with my dad, too. That makes me enjoy my summers in London even more."

"Have you ever dated a girl in London?" Rose asked.

"Once or twice," Lionel replied. "But then I realized that I would be leaving London soon anyway. It seemed pointless to take a girl out when there was no chance of forming any sort of meaningful relationship."

"Yes, I see what you mean," Rose said.

Their waiter brought out their lunch, which consisted of light egg salad sandwiches and a small cabbage salad for each. They ate in silence for several minutes. Rose stared out at the sunbeams on the tile floor, which were appearing from behind the clouds.

"Do you want to have a girlfriend?" Rose asked, going back to their conversation from earlier.

"Well, yes," Lionel answered. "I would like to. But I don't want to date several different girls anymore. I want to find one very special person and form a relationship with her. I want something that's lasting."

Rose smiled at him. "That sounds so nice. I love spending time with Rodney, but he hasn't expressed any sort of desire to form anything long term with us. We are dating, but we aren't officially together or anything." Rose stopped, suddenly feeling shy that she had shared something so personal with Lionel.

"You are too wonderful for him to want to give you up," Lionel reassured Rose. "Don't worry, he won't let you go. He'd be stupid to. You're a special person, Rose. Don't forget that."

"Thank you." Rose looked down at her hands and spoke in a quiet voice. "I hope he won't let me go."
Chapter Nineteen

Rodney called Rose the following morning, the day of the masquerade ball. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard his voice on the line. She pressed the phone close to her ear.

"I'll be home next week," he reminded her. "Would you like to go out to lunch this Thursday?"

"Lunch? Thursday?" Rose repeated. "Yes, I'd love to."

"It's a date, then," Rodney replied. "I'll call you sometime next Wednesday to discuss the details about where to meet and at what time. Can't wait to see you again. It's been way too long."

"I agree!" Rose exclaimed. Finally, after two weeks, she would get to see Rodney!

They said their friendly farewells and Rose hung up the telephone. She realized that she had forgotten to ask him about the robbery at the jewelry store. But her thoughts quickly drifted to their upcoming date. She sighed happily just thinking about it. Finally, Rodney was coming home. It seemed like he had been gone for forever, even though it was only a couple weeks.

Julie walked by and stopped when she saw Rose's happy face. "Did Rodney call you?" her friend asked knowingly.

Rose nodded with enthusiasm. "Yes, he just did. I just got off the phone with him."

"Well, it's about time he called," Julie pointed out. She crossed her arms over her chest. "He hasn't called in a week."

"Yeah, it's been about a week," Rose informed her. "We have a date on Thursday."

"Thursday!" Julie cried enthusiastically. "So you've already set a date. Perfect! So, Rose, tell me something. What's the first thing you will do when you see Rodney?"

"I'm going to run right up to him and kiss him!" Rose replied with a coy smile.

"Kiss him? Kiss him on the lips?" Julie's voice was full of surprise. "It's about time!"

"That's right, I'm going to kiss him," Rose repeated her idea. "I'm sick of waiting around. This whole 'taking it slow' thing isn't working for me. We've been dating for over a month! I've tried kissing him before, but it was in such a shy and timid way that maybe he didn't even realize it. So yes, I'll kiss him. And we'll see where it goes from there." Rose laughed.

"Woah, where did this whole new Rose come from?" Julie asked with a smile. "You've gotten bold. I'm proud of you."

"Just don't say anything to Lionel," Rose warned. "You know how much he dislikes Rodney."

"Yes," Julie agreed. "Which is so pathetically silly, anyway. He needs to get over it. You like Rodney, and not him. He needs to deal with it and move on. My brother." She rolled her eyes. "He can be so stubborn. He needs to let it go and throw away his stupid pride. It's not doing him any good."

"Do you think Lionel wants me to like him?" Rose asked, her voice filled with curiosity. "In a romantic way, I mean," she added.

"Don't you know?" Julie asked, looking at Rose strangely. "Haven't you noticed? He's crazy about you!"

"Well," Rose said, embarrassed. "There were times when I thought he did. But then I told myself that he was just friendly. Just kind and personable with everyone, you know? I guess I keep telling myself he doesn't like me."

"Well, you sure have been fooling yourself," Julie said. "He would go out with you in a heartbeat. I don't think I've ever seen my brother interested in someone like he's interested in you. Whenever you are in another room, you are all he talks about. I've told him over and over again to let it go and move on. I've told him so many times that you like Rodney, not him. But he won't give up hope that maybe you'll be attracted to him someday. Really, it's sad. Sad in a pathetic way, I mean."

"So what should I do?" Rose asked. "Lionel is my friend. I really enjoy talking to him and spending time with him. I don't want to lose our friendship, but I also don't want to give him any wrong ideas."

"You shouldn't have to do anything different," Julie reassured her. "He knows he needs to give it up. Lionel knows he doesn't have a chance with you. Not even close, especially with Rodney around. You just do whatever it is you want to do and don't worry about Lionel."

"Okay," Rose said. It doesn't matter, anyway, Rose thought. I like Rodney. I can't wait to see him. I'll kiss him and hold him and we can talk for hours. I'll also ask for his insight about the robbery at the jewelry store.

* * *

At around three 'o clock, Rose and Julie began getting ready for the big party. Julie curled Rose's hair and pinned it up, with a few stray curls framing her face. She put several small crystal hairclips in her cluster of curls. Rose helped Julie curl her hair and pin half of it up. Then they fixed each other's make-up.

"We look smashing, as the Brits would say," Julie whispered with a laugh as they stood together, looking in the mirror.

"Oh, I agree." Rose blew a kiss. "We are going to have the guys down there lining up to dance with us."

"I like the sound of that. But I refuse to try that waltz stuff. I still can't believe my mother chose all that old stuff. I hope the party won't be too boring."

Rose shrugged. "I'll try it. It sounds interesting and different. And the party will be fun, no matter what."

Julie raised her eyebrows. "Suit yourself. It's your choice. I'm sure Lionel will try the waltz, too. He likes history and stuff."

"You should give it a try," Rose suggested.

"I'll dance when the DJ comes out," Julie told her. "Oh, did I tell you? I did convince my mom to hire a DJ for later on in the evening. So that'll be cool."

They continued to talk as they got ready. Rose wore pearls, which Julie let her borrow. Julie wore a matching emerald necklace and earring set, which she had borrowed from her mother. The friends helped each other get into their dresses. Then they secured their masks, which Rose and picked up at the shop the day before.

"Ready to go down?" Julie asked.

From downstairs, they could hear the string quartet playing. After dinner and the traditional dancing, the DJ would take over.

"Absolutely," Rose said.

They walked down to the edge of the stair rail, which overlooked the main area for dancing. Over a dozen couples were milling around, snacking on hors d'oeuvres and sipping tall glasses of champagne. Everyone was dressed in finery and almost all the guests were wearing masks.

"Can I walk you ladies downstairs?" Lionel asked.

"I'm fine, thanks, Lionel," Julie said flippantly and began walking down the stairs.

Lionel held his arm out to Rose. She smiled politely and took it. Together they walked downstairs and joined the party.

Mrs. Douglass was an elegant hostess. She wore a blue gown that was the color of sapphires. She introduced Julie and Rose to several dignitaries. Soon Julie was focused on staring across the room at the young Russian she had spoken of earlier. He had shoulder length brown hair and dark eyes. His facial features were defined and attractive, and he was tall. He was unmasked, most likely to allow the female guests to gaze upon his face.

After the dance lesson, Julie gave up her hesitations about dancing the waltz and walked straight over to the Russian guy. She practically asked him to dance. Rose watched Julie as her friend carefully tried to remember the steps from the lesson. For the next dance, another waltz, his partner was a young woman who appeared to be in her late twenties. Julie got a glass of punch and came up alongside Rose, who had not danced yet.

"Isn't he so hot?" Julie asked breathlessly. "He was an incredible dancer, too."

"What's his name?" Rose asked her.

"I'm not exactly sure," Julie responded. "His accent was so thick and the name was one I'd never heard of. I'll just call him 'the hot Russian guy' for now."

"Sounds good to me."

Another young guy asked Julie to dance, and his friend asked Rose. After Rose got into the flow of the dance steps, they began to talk. Rose found their conversation boring, and he did not seem that cute to her. But she politely finished the dance and then excused herself to get a drink.

"Can I dance with you?" Lionel asked, catching Rose at the punch bowl.

"Sure."

It was the last waltz before dinner. Lionel led Rose onto the dance floor. She spotted Julie dancing with "the hot Russian guy" again.

"Sorry, I'm not the best dancer," Lionel apologized after he almost stepped on Rose's long skirt.

"It's okay," Rose reassured him. "This skirt is beautiful, but very inconvenient for dancing."

"Well, you look great," Lionel told her. "Really, really beautiful."

"Thank you." Rose looked at Lionel in his starched tuxedo with his hair fixed neatly and his black mask covering his face. "You look good, too."

"Thanks."

After dinner at the large dining room table, Rose danced throughout most of the night. The string quartet packed up their instruments and the DJ began playing popular music. Rose even danced with the Russian guy once.

"Wow, what a fun party," Julie announced at the end of the night. "That Russian guy was a hottie, but gosh, I don't think I could handle him for more than a few hours. I couldn't understand half of what he was saying. I'll take American guys any day."

"Yes, it was a good night," Rose agreed as she took bobby pins out of her hair. Now that this party is over, I can turn all my focus to Rodney and our date.
Chapter Twenty

The day of Rodney and Rose's lunch date finally arrived. The previous day, he had called her and told her to meet him at 11:30 in the morning at a small French café about two miles from the Douglass home called Le Tableau Argent, or The Silver Table. Outside, the sky was drizzling so Rose put on her green raincoat and opened up her umbrella. The raindrops bounced on top of the umbrella with a light tapping noise. Rose had wished for a sunny day for her long-awaited date with Rodney, but she was just happy to finally see him.

Turning away from the street where the Douglass family lived, Rose walked through the steady rain. She avoided puddles by skipping over them or walking around them. Julie had given her a beautiful royal blue knee length dress and a pair of matching shoes to wear, and Rose wanted them to stay dry through her rainy walk. Rose wanted her entire ensemble to be perfect, pressed, and dry for her date with Rodney. She walked the first mile, which took quite a long time because of the rain. She was glad she had left the house early.

Rose was beginning to get worried because of the extra time it was taking due to the rain, so she made a quick decision to take a shortcut. She found a side street which seemed to be going in the right direction, but was far less crowded.

I hope I don't get myself lost with this shortcut, Rose thought. The rain let up a little, but Rose still held her umbrella close to her head to keep her hair dry.

When I give Rodney a kiss when I see him, should I wait for the right moment? Rose wondered as she walked along. Should I kiss him right away? Maybe I should wait. Should I do it when we say good-bye? Maybe that would be the most appropriate time. Or maybe I could—

A hand reached out and grabbed Rose by the arm, dragging her into a shadowy alley. Rose opened her mouth to scream, but another hand clamped over her mouth, and the hand gripping her arm slipped down to grab her wrists. Rose dropped her umbrella and it rolled away in the wind. She attempted to wriggle away, but she was held tight by the arm. She turned her head in an attempt to see who was holding onto her. But the person was behind her and she could see nothing.

"Lisa, be quiet," said the stern voice of the person behind her. The voice sounded familiar.

"Mother?" Rose said into the hand that was covering her mouth.

"Yes, Lisa," said the voice eerily.

Mother. It was Mother.

"How did you find me?" Rose tried to say, but her words were muffled and could not be understood.

"Stop moving and listen to me," said Mother's commanding voice. Mother pulled Rose closer and spoke quietly into her ear, her voice cold. "You are coming with me. You should not have run away from home. I know what you are thinking. I know you are thinking that I kidnapped you. But no, that is not the case. I rescued you. The man who kidnapped you was my cousin. I found that box in his house. I discovered that you were not his daughter. When he died suddenly, I took you in. You became my daughter, like my own flesh and blood. Now I want you to come home to me. I have done nothing wrong. You need to come home. You are too young and naïve to be out alone and on your own."

Rose nodded furiously, pretending that she believed all the lies she was being told by Mother, even though she did not trust a word of it. "Yes, I'll come home," she agreed when Mother removed her hand from Rose's mouth. She prayed that Mother would believe her lie. Mother's grip on Rose's wrists loosened and she turned Rose around to look at her.

There she stood before her, tall and looming. Mother. Mother, in her dark rain coat with her sharp eyes glaring. Mother, with a scowl on her face. Mother, who was always distant to Rose. Rose stared up at her, terror filling her heart. Mother still held Rose's wrists, though much more loosely now than before.

"Please, please, let me go!" Rose cried. "You're hurting me!"

As soon as Mother let go of her wrists, Rose bolted. She escaped the alley and ran down the side street she had been on. She could hear Mother's quick footsteps behind her, as well as her heavy breathing.

Rose twisted and turned, going down side streets. People stopped to stare at her, but she scarcely noticed. She stopped for a moment, out of breath. She realized that her hair, clothes, and shoes were soaked. Quick footsteps were behind her, and she glanced to see Mother, ten feet away. Dashing away quickly, Rose ran up a fire escape on a nearby building.

Her heart began pounding when she looked down to see Mother climbing up the fire escape behind her. I don't remember Mother being so agile, Rose thought with fear. Rose ran up the stairs, tripping a couple times. She reached the top of a building and then realized that she had nowhere to go. She spotted a door, which must have led into the building. She ran to it. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, she saw Mother reaching the top of the fire escape and stepping onto the roof. The woman was breathing heavily, but she did not stop jogging after Rose.

Turning back toward the door, Rose twisted the knob firmly. But the door was securely locked and the doorknob would not budge. She looked around and saw the vast array of the rooftops of London. Frantic, she continued to look around. She realized that the building next door was only about five feet away. Mother had almost reached her, so Rose darted away, quick like a flash. She ran as fast as she could and leaped when she got to the edge of the roof. For a moment, Rose felt as though she was flying as she crossed from one building to another, five or six stories up, her arms out and her legs stretched like a ballerina. She landed hard on the edge of the roof of the neighboring building. She teetered for a moment, almost losing her balance. A dark cloud of fear covered her as she flailed her arms to regain her balance. She was able to straighten herself out and without looking back, she began to run toward the fire escape on this new building. She looked back to the other building, the one she had just been on the roof of. She spotted Mother running back toward the fire escape on that building.

She's going to be waiting for me when I go downstairs from this building. Rose realized. She stopped for a moment to examine her surroundings. She noticed another neighboring building that was only a few feet away. I hate the thought of jumping again, but it might be my best chance of getting away from Mother, Rose realized with terror. Leaping again, Rose reached the rooftop of the next building. Rose felt proud of herself, especially because she did not like heights. She landed more smoothly this time and did not lose her balance at all.

Rose ran down the fire escape of the building with caution. Looking around in all directions, she saw Mother nowhere. But she still ran until she reached a main street, which was full of people, cars, and buses. Shops lined each side, and a few restaurants dotted the area. The street seemed familiar, and she followed it until she reached the area where she knew the restaurant was.

Continuing to run, Rose did not stop until she got to the outdoor patio of Le Tableau Argent, where Rodney was waiting for her at a covered table. She collapsed into the chair opposite his. Breathing heavy, she apologized for being late.

Rodney looked at her with curiosity, his face showing his concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, puzzled. "You are soaking wet and you look like you've seen a ghost."

"Yes," Rose said, nodding. But then she realized that she was crying.

"Rose, what's wrong?" Rodney asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "What is going on?"

Rose's fear pushed aside her hesitation about sharing what had happened, and her story spilled out. She even told Rodney about the box under the floor and why she had come to London. As Rose told her story, she looked around constantly. The waitress came and took their orders and Rose jumped in fright when the young woman approached.

Finishing her story, Rose looked around again. Suddenly, Rodney's eyes grew wide. He placed his hand over Rose's as it rested on the table.

"Rose, I have something to tell you," he said, his voice urgent. "I think I know how your Mother found where you were." He looked around with caution, scanning the surroundings. Then he turned back to Rose. "Rose, it was Lionel. Do you remember when the four of us, you, me, Lionel, and Julie, went to Hyde Park and then to Selfridges?"

"Yes, I remember," Rose told him, recalling the day, which had been a few weeks before.

"Well, Lionel excused himself to use the restroom at Selfridges," Rodney continued. "You and Julie were busy shopping. I needed to go use the pay phone to make a call for work. When I went to use the phone, I saw Lionel using it. His voice was loud, and I could not help overhear him. He didn't see me. I shouldn't have, but I listened to his conversation. He was talking about you. He was telling me the same story that you told me, about the box under the floor and coming to England to find your birth mother. Near the end of the conversation, he said 'Just come here, and I'll tell you where she is. You can come for her.'"

Rose's face went white and she gasped.

Rodney continued speaking. "Then he negotiated a large sum of money for your return. After what you told me, I assume that he was talking to your Mother. I didn't know what he was talking about at the time, but it all makes sense now."

Rose felt her heart pounding in her chest like a drum. Trembling, she buried her face in her hands. Her mind began racing wildly. Lionel has been working with Mother? It has all been an act? This whole thing, everything he has said and done to help me, has been fake? How can this be?

Rodney was still talking, but Rose wasn't listening. What could she do? I can't go back to the Douglass home knowing this. Now I don't know where I will go or what I will do. I might not even be able to trust Mrs. Harrison, she realized with heartache. She may have set this whole thing up with Mother. Rodney is the only one I can trust now.

"I'll take you to a hotel for the night," Rodney suggested. "I'll pay for everything. Don't worry about a single thing. You don't need to worry about anything. Once you get settled at the hotel, we can meet and figure out where to go from there."

Rose nodded gratefully. She forced herself to eat some soup and bread, though her stomach had no desire for food. She was wet and cold. Her hair was soaked and sticking to her face and neck. She knew that she looked like a wreck. Forcing herself to eat, she stared at Rodney. He's so perfect, she thought. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

After a while, Rose began shivering from her wet clothing. Rodney noticed she was cold and uncomfortable, so he quickly paid for their lunch. Then he informed her that he would take her to a hotel on the other side of the city.

"We should get away from this area," he suggested. "You don't need to be staying anywhere near where Lionel Douglass lives, or anywhere near where your mother attacked you."

Rose nodded in agreement. "Thank you for all your help," she said softly.

How could you have been so careless and trusting? Rose scolded herself as she and Rodney rode in the taxi cab across London. You didn't really know Lionel. How could you have confided in him? He was just looking to make money off you. It was a game. It was just a game to gain your trust. Rose shut her eyes, as if to shield herself from the pain that reality brought on. Her clothes were still damp, which made the cab ride unpleasant.

Remembering the horror of when Mother attacked her earlier, Rose realized she needed to call the police.

"Rodney, as soon as we get to the hotel, I need to call the police," Rose told him.

"The police?" Rodney glanced back and forth, almost with suspicion.

"Yes," she told him. "I need to report the attack. I need to tell them about how Mother attacked me earlier. I'm really scared. I can also mention the stuff with Lionel, too."

"Now, now, Rose," Rodney said comfortingly, pulling her close. "I'll take care of it. I'll call and tell them. Then they can send an officer to take down your report if they need to.

"Oh, thank you, Rodney," Rose replied with gratitude. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Their cab stopped in front of a tall, upscale looking hotel. Rose followed Rodney to the front desk. He spoke to the clerk and requested a room on a quiet floor. She peeked over his shoulder as signed her in as Mrs. Rodney Martin.

"You like that?" Rodney grinned when he saw her reading over his shoulder. "I thought it might make you smile."

Rose did smile. Then she looked down at the floor as she realized how disheveled she must look in her wet clothes and messy hair.

. The clerk handed Rodney a key and the two of them took an elevator to the fourth floor, where her room was. They walked down the long hallway together in silence.

Rodney left hotel room once Rose began towel drying her still damp hair.

"Hey, I'm going to run downstairs and call the police for you," Rodney told her. He handed her a pad of paper. "Here, really quick write down a description of your mom and the location where it happened."

Obliging, Rose scribbled down some notes. She handed him the paper and he left to go downstairs to call the police.

Rose bustled around the room, pulling back the covers and looking in the mirror to smooth her hair. Thankfully, her clothes were almost dried. Rose secretly hoped Rodney would stay for a while. Fifteen minutes later, Rodney returned.

"I gave them a full report," Rodney told Rose.

"Thank you. Do they need to talk to me?"

"The officer I spoke to said that I gave him enough details," he explained. "So they may not need to talk to you."

"Thanks for taking care of that for me." Rose smiled.

After helping Rose get settled in, Rodney pressed fourty pounds into Rose's hand with instructions to purchase pajamas, clothes, food, and any other immediate necessities. At first Rose objected, but Rodney insisted.

"Please," he said. "You've been through so much. It's the least I can do. There's a small women's clothing shop next door. Just go there and purchase what you need."

Rose did not want Rodney to leave, but she also did not want to appear clingy. She had forgotten all about her plans to kiss him. Instead, she felt helpless, like a lonely child. He held her tightly when he said good-bye, but did not offer a kiss or any other romantic notions.

"You rest and relax here," he told her. "Put your mind at ease and watch some TV. In three days, on Sunday, I will meet you in the lobby at noon. Don't be late."

Rose nodded and Rodney left. An hour later, Rose put her raincoat back on and grabbed an umbrella, which Rodney had loaned her. She then picked up her small handbag, which she had kept slung over her shoulder the entire time during the narrow escape with Mother. She went next door to purchase pajamas and undergarments, a simple dress and plain tennis shoes. Then Rose went to the drug store across the street for a toothbrush, toothpaste, and other necessities. Back in the hotel room, Rose took a hot bubble bath and settled into her fresh pajamas. She found that as long as she didn't think about Lionel and her encounter with Mother, she could rest a little.

Rose had not opened a London bank account, so she had cashed all of her pay checks from Mrs. Douglass. Some of the money was in a jar in her room back at the Douglass house, but she still had over one hundred pounds in her purse. That, combined with the money from Rodney, left her with plenty.

In the hotel bed that night, Rose had trouble sleeping. Her thoughts kept going back to the horrifying encounter in the alleyway that afternoon when Mother had appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her. Rose still felt Mother's grip on her wrists. She recalled with fear and a pounding heart how she had leaped between buildings to get away. What would I have done if there was no place to go? Mother probably would have dragged me down the stairs by my hair. Then she would have shoved me into a cab and taken me to God knows where. Rose realized with fear. And what would I have done without Rodney? What if instead of going to the restaurant to meet Rodney, I had gone back to the Douglass house to find Lionel and Julie and ask them for help? Lionel probably would have handed me over to Mother. What a miracle it truly was that I went straight to Rodney.
Chapter Twenty-One

Rose spent the next two days in her hotel room. She only ventured out of her hotel room twice because she felt so on edge and anxious about the Douglass family and Mother. Once she went out to buy several necessities and then another time she walked to a small book shop across from the hotel to purchase a book of short stories. She spent her time reading, watching television, eating room service meals, and taking bubble baths. Rodney called her a few times a day to say hello and check on how she was doing. It seemed strange to do so little each day, but Rose enjoyed the peace after her traumatic encounter with Mother.

On Sunday morning, it was time to leave the hotel and meet Rodney. Scurrying about the hotel room, Rose gathered her things. She wrapped her pajamas and other items into a small bundle. Then she put them into a linen bag drawstring bag, which the hotel had provided to keep laundry in. She tucked the bag under her arm and surveyed the room to make sure she packed everything. Seeing nothing, she sighed. The whole ordeal on Thursday had filled her with frustration, hurt, and fear. Turning to a small table by the door, she snatched up the hotel key, left the room, locked the door, and dropped it into her purse.

It was a quarter 'til noon when Rose settled onto a soft, velvet sofa in the hotel lobby. She already set the key on top of the front desk, but was waiting for Rodney to sign her out and close out the room tab. She leaned back onto the soft cushion, but still continued scanning the room. She was nervous out to be in public, just sitting there. It was a feeling she had not experienced since leaving New York.

"Please contact us if you see any young ladies matching this description," a male voice spoke from across the room. Rose glanced over to the front desk, where she spotted the speaker. It was a tall, overweight policeman in a crisp black uniform. He was handing the front desk clerk a small, rectangular poster.

Curious, Rose craned her neck to take a peek at what was on it. The policeman lifted it up, and Rose's heart sunk in her chest. It was a photograph of her face, from the day that she and Julie had gone to Westminster Abbey. Below the photo was some text. But the part that frightened Rose most of all was the large, bold type above the photograph. MISSING, it read.

Without even thinking about Rodney or anything else, Rose snatched up her bundle and her handbag. She rushed out of the lobby and out into the busy street. The policeman was still inside, chatting with the clerk.

Walking fast, Rose turned a corner and onto a side street. Her mind was racing with a multitude of thoughts, which all seemed to be jumbled together. The Douglass family is looking for me. They want to collect their money from Mother. They want money for handing me over to Mother. They are searching for me. The police are searching for me. I need to go. I need to leave London. I need to get out.

Rose found a familiar street name and decided to walk north. I can find a train station. I have some money. I can take the train into the countryside, like I did with Lionel. I need to get out of London, and fast. Rose stopped walking, but her heartbeat quickened.

Shaking her head at the situation she was in, Rose hurried toward where she thought the station was. I will figure something out, she concluded. Rose continued walking, but with her head bent low. She felt paranoid that people were watching her. What if someone recognizes me? She wondered nervously.

"Stop, cab!" she yelled, raising her hand as a car raced by. He slammed on his breaks and stopped. Rose scooted inside and instructed him to go to the train station.

Digging into her purse, Rose fished out a small piece of paper that had her birth mother's name and town scribbled on it. Rose's heart longed for a place to go. If only my birth mother had been willing to talk to me. If she had, I could go to her. I could be her daughter again and we could live together in her little cottage in the countryside.

Riding in the cab, Rose began to think about Rodney. What will he think when I'm not there? I'm sure he'll see the poster with my face on it and figure out that I hid. He's smart. He'll figure it out and he'll understand. But how will I find him? He always calls me. I never call him. I don't even know how to reach him.

Finally reaching St. Pancras railway station, Rose paid her driver and rushed onto the platform. She studied the train schedules, trying to find a train going north. She found one and headed toward the ticket office.

Rose looked up and spotted a policeman approach the platform where she sat. Frantically, she snatched up her things. Not knowing where to go or where to hide, she hopped onto the northbound train, the same one she had planned to take. She found herself in a long hallway with compartments on one side. Worried that the policeman might follow her onto the train, she ducked into an empty compartment and drew the shades closed. She waited a few moments, peeking out the window every so often, waiting for an opportunity to exit her hiding spot and go back onto the platform.

Suddenly, the train began to move. Rose could feel the blood draining from her face. Well, I guess I'll just buy a ticket at the next station.

Several minutes passed. Rose buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed by the situation she found herself in. What station do I even get off at? She wondered. I know this train goes north, into the country. But where should I go?

"Tickets! Tickets, please!" came a male voice from the other side of the compartment wall.

Not sure if she could purchase tickets on the train, Rose sat down and decided to wait until the next station. She did not want to risk getting in trouble, and the conductor did not stop at her otherwise empty compartment.

At the next stop, Rose hopped out to purchase a ticket. There was a town which sounded far away enough called St. Albans, so she decided a buy her train ticket to there.

Back on the train, she settled down in her seat for the next half hour. Attempting to reread her book, Rose had trouble concentrating. Her mind kept going back to Lionel and her memory of the day they had taken the train to Kettering.

How could he do this? Rose thought with anger. How could he betray me like this? And all for money. He has money. His parents have money. But he would turn over his friend for cash. What a dirty liar he is. I feel disgusted just thinking about all the time I wasted on our fake friendship. Rose realized that her hands were shaking from her anger.

"St. Albans! St. Albans city railway station!" came the conductor's voice. Rose jolted out of her thoughts.

As the conductor's voice faded away, Rose grasped her handbag and bundle. When the train stopped, she tucked herself into a small crowd of people and exited.

Looking down, Rose walked off the train platform. She walked down several streets until she found herself on a less busy avenue which was lined with red brick row houses. She walked past a grocery store, a bookshop, and a tearoom. She walked until she left town. Soon she found herself in a small village with a sign that read Parsonsborough. In the center of town was small, but very tall, stone church. There was a few shops here and there. She continued to walk and noticed small flower shop. In the window were vases full of cheerful daffodils and hyacinth. The beauty and color of the flowers reminded her of her birth mother's garden.

Beside the flower shop was an inn. It was called The Shepherdess Inn and had a Tudor style design, complete with lattice windows. Rose went inside.

"How much would it be for a room for a week?" Rose asked the woman at the desk.

"Hm, a week," the woman mumbled. "We don't normally have anyone stay for a week. Let's see. How about eighty pounds?"

"That will be fine," Rose agreed with hesitation. I'll have to eat cans of tuna fish and beans with the little money I'll have left.

Rose paid the woman and was shown to her room. It had a simple double sized bed with a pink and purple quilt and a lacey crocheted blanket. A small wooden table sat beside the bed. Old, floral wallpaper was on the walls. The bathroom was tiny, with a single sink, toilet, and stand up shower.

If I really do run out of money, should I call Mrs. Harrison? Maybe she isn't involved in this mess with Lionel. But then, I don't want her to get caught in the middle between me and the Douglass family. Rose was getting a headache just thinking about it all. Deciding to leave the tiny room to get fresh air, Rose went outside for a walk. She stopped in front of the flower shop display window.

Drawn to the flowers, Rose stepped into the shop. A short, stout older woman with grey curls looked up and greeted her with a smile as she entered. "Hello, how can I help you, my dear?" the woman asked.

"I'm just looking, thank you," Rose said in a polite tone.

The woman reminded Rose of Mrs. Harrison. I wonder if Mrs. Harrison even knows I left the Douglass house, Rose thought as she reached down to touch the delicate petals of a peony.

"Actually," Rose said, turning back to the older lady who worked in the shop. "I was wondering if you need an extra set of hands for a few days?"

The woman appeared surprised, but she smiled in a polite and pleasant way. She thought for a moment.

"Actually," she began. "I do have a large wedding on Saturday. I wouldn't have to work so many late nights if I had a little extra help. Do you have any experience with floral arrangements?"

Rose frowned. "No, I don't," she told the woman. "But I'm a very hard worker and I'm a fast learner, too."

The woman stopped for a moment to think. Finally, she spoke. "How does four pounds an hour sound to you?"

"That will be fine," Rose told the woman. "Thank you!"

"Can you come in at nine in the morning tomorrow?" the woman asked.

"Absolutely."

Rose chatted for a few more minutes before saying good-night with a promise to return the next morning. Back at the hotel, she borrowed the London telephone directory and used the lobby phone. Finding the phone number to Herald's Jewelry shop, Rose dialed it. But the phone rang and rang with no answer. Finally, an answering machine picked up. A recording explained that the store was closed on Sundays.

Sighing, Rose tried to think of another way to get in touch with Rodney to let him know of her whereabouts. She looked up his name in the directory, but there was no listing. She finally gave up and decided to try to call the jewelry store in the morning.

That night in bed, Rose was relieved to be safe once more. She was eager to begin work at the flower shop the next day. Arranging flowers seemed so different from her job with Mrs. Douglass that it had a certain appeal. Rose was excited to try something new, a job where she could be creative.
Chapter Twenty-Two

Rose worked hard in the flower shop with the kind older woman, who was named Mrs. Grey. She worked for five days straight, six hours a day. Mrs. Grey showed her how the arrangements and bouquets were to be done, and Rose proved to be a fast learner.

Rose told Mrs. Grey that she was staying in town briefly, and the woman did not ask any questions about her situation. She commended Rose on her hard work and the two chatted pleasantly as they arranged flowers.

Rose was so busy on her first day of work that she completely forgot about calling Rodney. She tried calling his jewelry shop after work, but it was closed. The days passed by and Rose attempted to get in touch with Rodney several more times. But each time, he was off work or no one answered. Rose almost left a message for him, but did not want him to get in trouble for receiving personal calls at work.

After awhile, Rose decided to forget about reaching Rodney for awhile. Being in the small village of Parsonsborough was like being in another world. It seemed so detached from the busy city streets of London and New York, which was all Rose had ever known. She liked the quiet and the peace.

The wedding was Friday evening, and Rose helped Mrs. Grey load up the flower truck that would transfer the arrangements to the event. The flowers were mostly blue and pink hydrangeas and white calla lilies.

"Thank you so much for your help, Rose," Mrs. Grey said to her. "I've appreciated your hard work. You are talented. Maybe you should consider a career in the floral industry."

"Maybe," Rose replied, mulling the thought over in her head. She had certainly never seen herself as a florist.

"Do stop by the shop sometime," Mrs. Grey said after saying good-bye. "Good-night, Rose."

Mrs. Grey gave Rose a quick hug. She felt a moment of warmth and love, comfort and safeness. It all made her miss Mrs. Harrison.

* * *

Shortly before going to bed on Friday evening, Rose sat in the small wood chair in her bedroom, glancing through the pages of an old book of Tennyson's poems. Mrs. Grey had given it to her.

Rose found herself thinking about Lionel again. This is all Lionel's fault. That stupid liar. What a sneak. He's the lowest of the low. He's nothing but a freaking idiot. I'm stuck here in this tiny room because of him and his sneaky tricks. She shook her head. I'm sick of being on the run.

Rose realized that all of her hurt regarding Lionel's betrayal had turned into anger. She still was in disbelief that someone who she thought was her friend could be so cruel.

Why don't I just go to London? She wondered. I can find Rodney there since he has no idea where I am. I'll go to Herald's Jewelry Shop to find him. He usually works most weekdays and on Saturday. Tomorrow is Saturday, so it'll be perfect.

Rose's thoughts came to a halt when she realized one very important fact.

The whole reason why I left London was because I saw a missing person poster for myself. If I go back, someone may have seen it and could recognize me.

Frustrated, Rose pulled her legs to her chest and pursed her lips. "What to do, what to do?" she mumbled.

Hatching a sudden idea, Rose sat up straight and let her legs drop to the floor. She smiled, pleased with her plan.

I'll go out first thing in the morning, Rose decided. It's a simple idea, but I think it will work. Hopefully I'll find Rodney tomorrow and then together we can figure out what I should do next.

Realizing that if she found Rodney she might be able to stay with him, Rose decided to pack all of her things, buy a small duffel bag in the morning, and check out of the hotel. Then she would not have to come back to Parsonsborough if Rodney would let her to stay at his house.

* * *

The following morning, Rose woke up when it was still dark outside. She took a shower, brushed her teeth, and towel dried her hair. Then she put on a cotton black dress with a grey sash. I need dull colors for my plans today, she had decided. I don't need to stand out.

Rose walked into St. Albans and went first to a women's clothing shop. While there, she purchased a light scarf and a pair of black sunglasses. She then found a small hat section in a corner of the shop, where she purchased a wide brim straw hat with a thick, sage green velvet ribbon which tied under the chin. Last, Rose walked into a hair salon.

"May I help you, miss?" asked a young woman with pin straight black dyed hair and long red fingernails.

"Yes, I'd like to get my hair colored," Rose told her.

"Okay, fine," the woman replied. She led Rose back to a swivel chair and they discussed the desired hair color.

Rose finally decided on a deep, dark red. When the coloring was finished and Rose gazed at herself in the mirror, she was shocked.

"Wow, I look so different!" she exclaimed.

"Do you like it?" the hairdresser asked.

"Absolutely. Now, I was thinking about possibly getting a perm. I just want a whole different look," Rose explained. "Will a perm take a while?"

"With hair your length, yes, it'll take a bit of time," the hairdresser replied.

"Maybe I won't go with the perm, then," Rose mumbled, disappointed. "I was planning to go to London right after this and I don't want to get there too late."

"I can curl your hair for you, if you would rather," the hairdresser suggested. "Your hair is already a little curly, so it will be quick. The curls won't last too long, but if I put a lot of hairspray in, it'll last all day at least."

"That sounds terrific!" Rose felted relieved.

After her hair was curled and hair sprayed, Rose stood up and paid. On her way out, she looked into a full length mirror. Wow, I really do look different. She popped her floppy hat on her head before walking out the door.

Rose picked up a duffel bag on the way back and went back to the inn. She packed up her things and checked out.

Hurrying to the station, Rose caught the train to London in St. Albans with only a couple of minutes to spare. She rode for over half an hour as her train car shifted and swayed. She used up almost every penny she earned at the flower shop on her train tickets, hair, and hat.

About halfway through the train ride, Rose went into the restroom and fixed her make-up. Earlier in the week, she had purchased everything from mascara to blush. She put on more make-up than normal. When she was finished, she backed up, put on her new hat and sunglasses, and stared at herself in the mirror.

"I don't even look like myself anymore," Rose mumbled, pleased with her disguise. So far, my plan has worked. She gazed in the mirror at her tight red curls, heavy make-up, sunglasses, and hat. No one will know it's me with all this on.

Arriving at the station in London, Rose hurried off the train and into a small café. Famished, she ordered a croissant with jam and a cup full of steaming black coffee. Then she calculated her plan to find Rodney and then walked around toward Green Park.

"Excuse me, sir," she said to an elderly gentleman who was sitting near a group of men smoking cigars at an outside pub table. Surrounded by a cloud of smoke, his face was behind a newspaper. The other smokers appeared engrossed in conversation, so Rose had chosen him.

"Yes?" replied the man with a hint of annoyance as he lowered his paper to look at her.

"Do you know the best way to get to Herald's Jewelry Shop?" Rose inquired.

"Why yes," said the man, pausing thoughtfully for a moment. "I believe I do."

He proceeded to give her a long list of directions, including street names and landmarks. Rose tried to remember as much as she could as she thanked him and ran off. Seeing a Tube station, she boarded a train. A few minutes later, she emerged from a train station and turned a corner, attempting to stay on track according to the old man's directions.

As Rose walked, her face as tucked under her straw hat as possible, she began to notice bulletins being stapled or taped to the walls of some buildings. Most of these were advertisements for people who were searching for a new nanny or selling their piano. But then she spotted something that made her stop in her tracks. Rose suddenly felt her body grow cold from fear. There she was, her photo featured prominently on a missing person flyer. It was her face and a description of her physical appearance. Seeing this, Rose hurried along toward the jewel shop.

Rose found the jewelry shop and entered. She walked around for several minutes, but there was no sign of Rodney. Giving up on her plan of finding him in the shop, she approached a tall, older man with grey hair and glasses. He was wearing a smart looking pinstriped suit.

"Pardon me, sir?" Rose said to him.

"Yes, miss?" the man replied. "How can I help you?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Rodney Martin," Rose requested. "One of the managers of this store," she added.

"Oh," the man said, his face surprised. "I'm afraid Mr. Martin has not been employed here for nearly a month. I am the assistant manager now."

Rose's mind was reeling. What? A month? How can that be? He never mentioned it to me. How weird. Why wouldn't he tell me that he left his job? Didn't he just go to that jewel show in Paris for work?

Rose finally spoke. "Oh, wow. I didn't know that. Well, may I by any chance get his phone number and home address?"

"I apologize, miss," the man replied. "I cannot give out that information."

"I understand," Rose mumbled, feeling more and more confused. She thanked the man and left.

Walking out of the jewelry shop, Rose contemplated what she should do next. She wandered around nearby for a while, thinking about Rodney and how mysterious it was that he was no longer employed at the jewelry store, especially because he had not even told her.

There's got to be some sort of explanation, Rose told herself as she wandered down a quiet lane near the jewelry store. I mean, he wouldn't lie to me. Maybe he just forgot to tell me. There was a lot going on the last time I saw him. I was all freaked out because of all the crap with Mother. He probably was just trying to keep the conversation light. Maybe he was fired or something and he was just embarrassed to tell me. Yeah, that's probably it. Rodney's an honest guy. I know he would never try to lie to me or withhold information or anything. I'll wait until I see him and then let him tell me in his own time. I won't even bring it up or ask. He deserves to have my trust. After all, Rodney is the only person left in my life that I know I can trust completely.
Chapter Twenty-Three

Rose walked down the lane until she found a park bench under a large shade tree. She sat down to think of what she should do next. Then she remembered how Rodney had scribbled down her name as "Mrs. Rodney Martin" at the London hotel the week before. She also recalled seeing an address next to the name. It must have been his address, she realized.

Standing up, Rose walked in the direction of the hotel. The day was breezy, so she tied the ribbons on her hat tighter so it would not blow off her head.

After asking for directions twice, Rose found herself in front of the tall hotel entrance. Dozens of people were entering and exiting the lobby. She took a deep breath and pushed open the glass double doors, stepping inside.

Inside the lobby, Rose was quick to find the front desk and approached it. Certain that she could mimic a British accent after her time in London, she decided to try it.

"Hello, sir?" she said with her fake accent. "I am looking for a registry of visitors to this hotel."

The man politely smiled. "You may look in our guest registry book." He set the registry book on the marble counter in front of her.

Rose flipped through the pages of the book until she spotted the name that Rodney had used to register for the hotel room, Mrs. Rodney Martin. There was indeed an address beside it, and Rose asked the clerk for a pen and paper. She copied it down, folded it, and slipped it into her purse. Then she straightened her hat and hailed a cab outside the hotel.

Rose slowly repeated the address she had jotted on the small paper to the cab driver. He stared off thoughtfully for a moment. Then he pulled out a wrinkled, folded map.

"Yes, right, I believe I know where it's at," he mumbled. Then he sped off, turning onto a main road.

After several miles, he turned onto a series of side streets. Rose slid down the smooth back seat as the car twisted and turned. She reached up to touch her hat, making sure it was still in place. She grabbed onto the seat in front of her as they sped around a particularly sharp turn.

"Bexley, here we are," the man said. "The place is near here, but I think it would be best if you walk the rest of the way. Too many people walking around here. Market day, I think."

Rose nodded and handed the man the cab fare. Then she stepped out and glanced around at the red brick buildings. She looked again at the paper and then at the nearest road sign. She read Rodney's address. Walking for several minutes, Rose spotted the street name that he had put down as his address.

Rose walked along a row of neat houses, which all looked similar. She finally found the house number that was on her piece of paper and approached it, relieved for her long search to be over.

She raised her hand to knock, hoping that this was indeed the correct house. Gosh, I really hope this is it, Rose silently hoped. I'm ready to find Rodney and stop this search. It would also be really embarrassing if I went to the wrong house.

At the exact moment before Rose's fist hit the wood of the door, she heard a woman's voice speaking in a loud voice on the other side. She blushed a bright crimson, embarrassed that she must have actually gone to the wrong house. It's a good thing I didn't knock. She quickly turned around to leave.

"Have you checked with the police station today?" asked the female voice. It sounded familiar. Rose paused.

"I'm heading out there in a few minutes," replied a male voice. This voice actually sounded like Rodney. Rose brightened at the sound of her boyfriend's voice and turned around to face the door, ready to see him. So this is the right house after all! Rose thought with relief.

"You'd better get over to the police fast. We need to know if she's shown up anywhere yet. Mr. Fontaine is already losing patience with you because you let Lisa get away." The female voice spoke in an angry tone.

Rose's eyes grew wide and her hand flew to her mouth. They are talking about me. But who is Mr. Fontaine?

"I'm going," Rodney replied with annoyance. "I'm as frustrated as you are. I had her. I was about to take her to you. Then we would have been done with Lisa, finally."

Rose was confused at what was being said, and her heart began pounding. Done with me? Who were they going to take me to? Her head was spinning wildly.

The female voice sounded oddly like Mother. But of course, it wouldn't be her, Rose reasoned.

The door began to open and the talking continued. Frantically, Rose ducked to the side of the house behind a shrub. She crouched down silently and peeked through the leaves and branches.

Rose heard footsteps and saw Rodney walk down the walkway. He stopped to turn toward another figure, a tall woman wearing a dark sweater and black trousers. Rose could only see the woman from the back.

"Don't remind me again about how you let her slip through your fingers," the female voice spoke. "You have gotten on Mr. Fontaine's last nerve, Rodney. You'd better watch your back."

Rose gasped. The female speaking was Mother. Rose clamped her hand over her own mouth.

"Tell him to be patient," Rodney replied. "I almost had her. If it wasn't for that irritating Douglass family, she would have been taken care of. I'm certain that she saw those missing ads after the Douglass' went to Scotland Yard about her not coming home. I had her believing with certainty that they were out to get her, or at least that Lionel was. He is the one she is best friends with, you know. So she must have seen the posters and skipped town."

"And you being the idiot that you are didn't leave her any way to contact you," Mother said scornfully.

"I don't even want to hear it from you," Rodney replied with annoyance. "I didn't want her showing up at my house, asking questions. What if she saw you here? What if she caught us together? It would break her little heart," he said, this time with sarcasm.

"Please, don't remind me that she is in love with you," Mother told him. "It's sickening. Disgusting."

"Well, the feelings aren't mutual, so you have no reason to worry," Rodney replied.

"Oh, I'm not worried," Mother said. "I have you wrapped around my finger. But I still think it was a ridiculous idea in the first place. What were you thinking, acting like her boyfriend?"

"My plan was brilliant," Rodney replied matter-of-factly. "You're in denial, but it was. She lapped up every word I said. I was her first love. You tried to ruin it all when you told me not to kiss her. She was getting suspicious when all we did was dance and hold hands. She's not bright, but she isn't that stupid. If I had been able to do what was needed to keep up my act, I could have delivered her to Fontaine on a silver platter within a couple weeks. Instead, I had to drag it out, all over your stupid jealousy. I keep telling her that I wanted to 'take things slow.'"

"You disgust me," Mother replied.

"I should have let things play out, and just not told you," Rodney replied. "I kept having to turn down her advances. If she were not so naïve and inexperienced, my cover might have actually been blown. She would have figured something was wrong after a while."

"I would have killed you if you had gotten physical with her, Rodney," Mother snapped at him. "And I would have tortured you before I killed you."

"You get so envious, my love," Rodney said sweetly, his tone suddenly changed. "Of course it all would have been part of my act. Do you really think I would choose a teenage kid over you?"

What is he saying? Rose asked herself, her heart pounding. Is he dating... Mother? How can it be?

"I would hope not," Mother replied, her voice stern.

Rose began to hear kissing noises. She glanced up to see Rodney and Mother embracing one another, their lips locked. Rose felt disgusted. A sickness filled her stomach. I was in love with a guy who is dating Mother? She felt both betrayed and nauseous at the same time.

Soon, the kissing stopped. "But you still could have left her some sort of contact information. That was an idiotic move. I'm sure that she would love to contact you, her only true friend," Mother said with an equal amount of annoyance and sarcasm in her voice. "But now she's gone, lost in the abyss somewhere out there. She's missing in a city of eight million people."

"If we find her, we find her," Rodney said. "But between you and me, there are more important matters at hand. We are wasting time and energy on a stupid teenager. If she hasn't gone to the police about you kidnapping her yet, do you think she will now?"

"And what if she decides to report me one day, out of revenge?" Mother asked, her voice scornful. "Mr. Fontaine is worried. He would rather take her out now than risk her going to the police."

"Revenge? Really? She's a mouse. She doesn't care about revenge," said Rodney in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Still," Mother said. "What if she had convinced of those Douglass people to report me over her suspicions? Then suddenly I would be at the center of an investigation. And if they were examining me over kidnapping, who knows what else they may find?"

"Jewelry. Lots and lots of jewelry," Rodney laughed eerily. "But you worry too much. You're paranoid. She wouldn't squeal." The way Rodney spoke to Mother was in a belittling tone.

Jewelry? What are they hiding? Rose wondered, her mind overflowing. She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach as she overheard the words that Mother and Rodney were saying to each other.

"Worst mistake of my life, taking that girl," Mother said bitterly. "She's turned out to be nothing but trouble. Nothing but a burden. But my own baby Lisa died, so I had to replace her so the neighbors wouldn't get suspicious."

Rose had been listening, wide eyed. She already felt sick. But the words that Mother just said were like a stab in her heart. Nothing but trouble. Nothing but a burden. Tears filled her eyes and she angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand. I was a replacement for a dead baby? That explains the photo of the dark haired baby with my name scribbled on the back. I was a replacement baby for this cruel woman. Nothing but a replacement. Nothing but trouble. Nothing but a burden.

Rose realized she was shaking. She crawled away and stood up when she was out of sight. Rodney was working with Mother all along. Rodney, who seemed so cute and funny and perfect. He's nothing but evil, pure evil. I thought that I was falling in love with him, but instead, he's in love with Mother. He's in love with a woman twice his age. Rose's head was spinning as she stopped by a large bush. Feeling even sicker, she threw up into the bush. She clumsily wiped her mouth on her arm and continued walking.

At least I know Lionel did nothing wrong, Rose realized. The Douglass family is truly searching for me. They're worried about me. That's why they contacted the police. That's why there are posters all over town with my name and picture of them. They miss me. Maybe they even love me, just a little bit. The Douglass family really are the only true friends I have anymore.

Out of breath, Rose finally stopped walking. She leaned down to catch her breath. Then she spotted a covered bench for a bus stop. I'll take the bus to the Tube station, she decided. I'll take the Tube back to Lionel and his family. I can find refuge with them. I'll tell them everything. I'll be honest. For the first time in my life, I'll be completely and utterly honest with everyone.

Dropping down onto the bench with a thud, Rose sucked in her breath. Her pounding heart felt like a drum inside her head. I hate you, Rodney. She angrily repeated the words over and over again in her mind. You can burn in hell for all I care. You betrayed me. What a dirty liar.

Several people walked by the bus stop, but Rose felt safe behind the disguise of her sunglasses and hat. She sat as stone faced as she could on the bench, trying not to draw attention to herself. She was upset, but she hoped she was able to hide it. The bus seemed to be taking forever to arrive.

Rose heard lone footsteps after a lull in passersby. She glanced to the side to see Mother.
Chapter Twenty-Four

Mother walked by the bus stop bench at a slow pace. Rose looked down and she could see the shadow from the brim of her hat covering her face. She felt Mother's eyes on her, so she pressed her sunglasses up her nose and slouched down. Mother seemed to pause and then pass by. Rose did not look up for several minutes, and when she did there was no sign of Mother. Nervous, she continued to keep her head down. Her heart was pounding until she heard the sound of the bus motor in the distance. When the large vehicle stopped, she dashed onto it, paid her fare, and sat down in an empty corner of the busy bus. She glanced around, and was glad to find that the bus was full of strangers. There was no sign of Rodney or Mother.

As the bus drove away, Rose peered out the window. Mother was nowhere in sight, and no one else had boarded the bus with her. She felt a wave of relief wash over her. I'm just being paranoid. What are the odds that she would be on this very same bus?

Out of nowhere, Rose began to feel angry at herself. I wish I had the courage to confront Mother. Why am I such a stupid coward? Why am I so afraid of that woman? She can't hurt me. She can't hurt me anymore. I'm eighteen and I don't live under her roof. I'm not under her power any longer. Rose got lost in her thoughts as she rode across London to find the first Tube station she recognized. From there, she could find a train to Lionel's stop. Each block the bus drove down brought her closer and closer to the Douglass home, her place of refuge once more.

Rose finally spotted the name of a familiar station up ahead, so she gathered her purse and small bag and hopped off with a few other people. Then Rose took the elevator down to the tracks. She rode the train to the station that was closest to the Douglass home. She began to feel ill in her stomach from nervousness as the train swayed.

What if they don't welcome me back into their home? Rose fretted as the train rode along through the dark tunnel. I did just disappear at my own will. What if Mrs. Douglass doesn't even want me to work for her anymore? I abandoned my job when I left. I wouldn't blame her if she didn't ask me back to work for her again. If that is the case, I'll need to find a new job and a new place to live.

The more Rose thought about what she had done in leaving suddenly, the more ashamed she felt. How can I face them now? How can I tell them that I believed some guy's lies and just left? Those missing person posters... they really and truly were worried about me. They cared about me. A family cares about me.

Still nervous that she might bump into Mother or Rodney somewhere, Rose kept her disguise secured as she exited the train with over a dozen other people. She climbed the stairs back up to the ground level. Stopping to catch her breath, she walked through the exit to the street. The sunshine shone on her face and smiled as she saw the familiar surroundings all around her. Rose spotted the tearoom where she and Julie often had tea and lunch, the bookshop where she and Lionel occasionally went to read, and the park where the three of them frequently went for afternoon strolls. Then there was the small grocery store where Mrs. Douglass sometimes sent Rose to pick up a few things, and the stationary store where Mr. Douglass purchased his favorite pens. She half expected to see Lionel and Julie taking a walk down the street, greeting her with smiling faces. Lionel would give her a quiet hug and Julie would chatter endlessly about how much they had missed her and how worried they had been.

At least I hope they'll be glad to see me, Rose thought as she tried to push away her stress and anxiety. What if Julie hates me? What if Lionel won't speak to me? What if Mr. and Mrs. Douglass don't want me in their house anymore? I wouldn't blame them. Not any of them. They probably won't trust me after this. I'll have no place to go, and no friends in London. All of the worrying had made her stomach sick. She stopped at a trash can and leaned her head over, worried that she might vomit.

After a minute, Rose felt better and she lifted up her head. She was dizzy, though, so she sat down hard on a bench and leaned her head back to look at the sky. It was a sunny day and the sky was baby blue, and bright with light. A fluffy cloud floated by. I can do this, Rose told herself. I need to march up to their house and tell them I'm sorry. I need to be honest. If they know how sorry I am and what happened, hopefully they'll forgive me. I care about the Douglass family. I really do. I don't think I even realized how much I cared about them until now. Mr. and Mrs. Douglass treat me like their daughter. Julie is like a sister to me. Lionel is... well, I guess he's like a brother.

Taking a deep breath, Rose slowly stood up from the bench. Feeling less dizzy, she began to walk. She was almost to the street where they lived. Thoughts swirled around in her head. Will they be understanding? Will they forgive me?

Rose spotted their street sign up ahead. She recognized the tall, white house on the corner, which belonged to neighbors of the Douglass family. I need to be positive. Rose took another deep breath. I'm going to be positive. They are going to be happy to see me. And I'm excited to see them, Rose realized. I'm going to see my friends, my second family.

Rose's pace quickened as she turned onto the street where the Douglass family lived. She ripped off her hat and tore off her sunglasses. Suddenly overcome with emotion, tears began streaming down her face. A strong sense of relief swept over her as she thought of going back to this familiar place with familiar people. She wiped her face and looked down at her hand. Black mascara covered her palm, which was wet with tears.

"No crying, no crying," Rose whispered to herself. "This is ridiculous. I shouldn't be crying over this."

Snatching a T-shirt out of the bag that hung on her shoulder, Rose patted her face dry. Then she stuffed the shirt back into the bag.

"I don't need to let them see me cry," Rose mumbled to herself. "No tears. No more crying."

As Rose walked, the street seemed endless. What was normally a short walk seemed to go on for forever. Then she spotted it, standing regal and tall in the distance. It was the Douglass home.

A single tear trickled down Rose's face, but this time she made no attempt to brush it away.

"I'm home," she whispered. "I'm finally home."
Chapter Twenty-Five

Marching up to the front door of the regal red brick Douglass house with determination, Rose could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Lifting her hand high, she knocked on the large wooden door.

After a minute, Lionel flung the door open. His face was filled with shock, but he smiled at her.

"You're here... I can't believe it," he said, stunned.

"It's good to be back," Rose replied, trying to sound cheerful. Inside, she was still worried.

"Well, uh... come in!" Lionel said, opening the door wide. "Here, let me get your bag. Are you okay? I mean, you aren't hurt, are you?"

Rose shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I'm okay. I need to talk to you. I need to talk to your parents and Julie, too. If they want to talk to me, of course."

"Of course they do," Lionel assured her. "Here, let me get them."

He hurried away, his bag still in her hand. Rose waited in the large foyer as Lionel ran upstairs.

A door shut somewhere upstairs and Rose heard excited talking. Within thirty seconds, Julie practically ran down the stairs.

"Rose! Rose!" Julie cried out.

Rose looked at Julie's face and noticed tears streaming down it. She wrapped Rose in a warm embrace and began crying.

"I've been so worried about you!" Julie spoke through her sobs. "I've missed you so much, Rose. You are like the sister I've always wanted, but never had. I realized that after you disappeared. Where were you? Please tell me you're okay."

"I've missed you, too, Julie," Rose whispered. To her great surprise and dismay, Rose began crying. Her tears made a puddle on Julie's polyester sleeve.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Rose apologized. She wiped her tears on her sleeve and shook her head.

"Rose!" cried Mrs. Douglass. Rose looked up to see her trotting down the stairs toward where she and Julie stood. "Where have you been? Are you okay? Are you hurt? We've been so worried for you. The police have been looking for you."

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Douglass" Rose said, beginning to cry again. "And Julie, I'm so sorry, too. It's a long story, but if you're ready to hear it I'll tell you everything. It was crazy, but I also made some really bad decisions. I trusted the wrong person. I shouldn't have left like I did. I shouldn't have left without telling you."

Lionel reappeared and handed Rose a tissue. She quickly dried her tears. Mr. Douglass joined them and they all went into the sitting room.

"Please tell," Julie begged, once they were seated. "We're ready to listen."

"Okay," Rose responded, taking a deep breath. "Mr. and Mrs. Douglass, first of all, I'm sorry. I'm sorry to all four of you, really. I'm going to tell you what happened and where I went. But in advance, I beg for your forgiveness."

Rose told her story, from beginning to end. The Douglass family knew of some of the details of her past, but not the extent of Mother's abuse and manipulation. Lionel and Julie both seemed as intrigued when Rose got to the part where she overheard Mother and Rodney talking. Mrs. Douglass opened her eyes wide in horror and Mr. Douglass listened intently, his mouth hanging open.

Julie's eyes grew even wider when Rose explained that Mother and Rodney were dating. Her mouth dropped open and a look of sheer shocked filled her face, as did Lionel's face. Julie shrieked.

"That might be the craziest thing I've ever heard," Julie finally said. "Isn't that lady really old? That's really disgusting. He was dating his girlfriend's daughter! That is so, so gross!"

"I know, it's awful," Rose said, still feeling both hurt and angry about the whole situation.

"It sure is," Lionel chimed in. "That guy really is insane."

"What an awful thing," Mrs. Douglass said sympathetically. "I'm so sorry that all of this happened to you, Rose."

Rose continued with her story. She told them about how badly she felt about leaving. She apologized again.

"No apology necessary, Rose," Lionel told her. "You didn't have bad intentions. We are just happy you're okay." Lionel began shaking his head. "What a disgusting, horrible woman," Lionel said when Rose finished talking.

"Of course we forgive you, Rose," Mrs. Douglass cooed gently. "You trusted an evil man."

Rose nodded. She agreed, but she was still in too much shock to say anymore. What she had learned that day had changed her entire world.

"I'm a bit concerned about these people," Mr. Douglass told Rose. "There is obviously something criminal going on. They are afraid of the authorities. And what was that about the jewelry? It's all very strange. If you are fine with giving a statement tonight, I'm going to have a policeman come here and take a report."

"That's fine," Rose agreed.

"Good," Mr. Douglass said. "Then tomorrow we can go to the police station and speak to an investigator. Now, for all three of you." He turned to face Rose, Julie, and Lionel. "Be careful. Be aware. These people know where we live, and they might want to harm Rose. Just let me know if you see anything suspicious."

"Yes, of course, dad," Lionel agreed. Rose and Julie also nodded their heads in agreement.

Mr. and Mrs. Douglass left the room and Lionel took a seat on the sofa beside Rose. Julie began telling Rose all that had happened when she was gone.

"Oh, gosh, Rose," Julie breathed dramatically. "I was so worried when you were gone. When you didn't come back that first night, I started worry eating. Have you ever done worry eating?"

Rose shook her head.

Julie continued with eagerness. "Okay, worry eating is kind of like stress eating. My mom had some extra desserts leftover from the party. The first night, I ate four slices of chocolate cake. Then I ate three cherry tarts. I felt like I was going to throw up, but I just kept eating. The next day, I finished off the chocolate cake and ate five slices of pound cake. I also ate two pints of ice cream. It was horrible."

Rose glanced back at Lionel, who was shaking his head, as if in disbelief. She had to hide her smile as Julie continued her story.

"Anyway, after two days of you being gone, I gained five pounds. Five pounds!" Julie's eyes grew wide. "So now I'm on a vegetables only diet. That means I only eat vegetables. It's kind of boring, but I need to keep it up. I'm only like one pound away from my normal weight. The weight I was at before you disappeared, I mean."

"Wow, good for you," Rose told her friend, trying to sound encouraging.

"Thanks!" Julie exclaimed. "I bought a juicing machine, too. I make fresh carrot juice every day. It's really healthy. Yesterday I made carrot and beet juice, which wasn't as good. I'm going to try adding spinach tomorrow to my juice. Maybe even brussel sprouts. I only have one more pound to go. When I lose it, then we can go out for ice cream. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great." Rose paused. "Julie, are you sure it's healthy to eat only vegetables for a week?"

"Well, maybe not, but I'm fine," Julie reassured her.

"'Fine' is not the word I'd use," Lionel interjected. "She's so weak that she always has to sit down. Like, every five minutes."

"Oh, shut up, Lionel," Julie chided. "I'm fine."

Mrs. Douglass called them to dinner soon, and everyone went downstairs. Mrs. Douglass had asked their cook to prepare a special dinner to celebrate Rose's return. The cook made prime rib, roasted potatoes, and asparagus.

"I can't eat the prime rib or the potatoes," Julie reminded her father as he passed her the platters.

"Julie, really," Mr. Douglass scolded.

"Julie, dear, you have to eat something," Mrs. Douglass said gently. She reached over to cover Julie's hand.

"I'll eat the asparagus," Julie reassured her parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Douglass glanced at each other, but said nothing. Lionel covered his mouth, and Rose believed that he was laughing.

"That Mr. Fontaine sounds dangerous," Mrs. Douglass commented as they discussed Rose's story further.

"Yes, he does," Mr. Douglass added casually before taking a bite of his steak. "We need to ask the police if they have any records of a man named Fontaine.

After dinner, a young police officer came over to the house to interview Rose. He asked her various questions about where Rodney lived and what Mother looked like. She painfully gave the man all the details.

Later that night, Julie followed Rose into her room and babbled about how wonderful it was to have her friend back. They sat on the bed together and Julie talked faster than Rose's tired mind could follow. Trying to pay attention, Rose smiled and nodded, adding a word or two to the conversation.

"I feel like I have my sister back," Julie said with excitement. "I was worried every single day that you were gone. I even cried a couple times. Lionel was so worried that he looked sick."

"Really?" Rose asked, surprised.

"He would stare out the front window for like an hour," Julie told her. "Literally for a hour! I would walk into the sitting room and he'd be standing on the other side of the curtain, with his face almost pressed up against the window. I could see his shadow through the sheers whenever I'd peek into the room. He always looked upset and he hardly talked and hardly ate anything sometimes at mealtime. Isn't that crazy?"

Rose nodded. "Crazy," she mumbled. She stared off into the distance as Julie continued to talk.

Hardly talked? Hardly ate? Stared out the window? How could someone care that much about me? And meanwhile, I thought he was some stupid, evil guy. For a week, I cursed his name and wished that I had never even met him. I was hating him, and meanwhile he was longing for me to return. I've been so wrong about him. I'm ashamed to think of all the horrible feelings and thoughts I had.

Several minutes after Julie had gone to bed, Rose tiptoed down the hallway to say good-night to Lionel. She softly knocked on his bedroom door. After about ten seconds, he opened it slowly.

"Oh, Rose!" he said happily, his face lighting up and a smile filling it. "Come on in!" He opened the door wide and Rose stepped inside onto the navy blue carpet. The room was simple, with tall grey walls, white crown molding, and a few framed photographs on the walls. All of the furniture was a deep walnut color, and included a desk and chair, a tall dresser, and a tall four poster bed. A dark blue sofa was at the end of the bed, and that was where Rose sat down.

"I've missed you," Lionel blurted out. He sat down beside her.

"I've missed you, too," Rose replied.

"I hope you won't leave again. You are like a part of this family." Lionel smiled and moved closer next to her.

"I won't leave," Rose promised. "It feels really amazing to be cared about like this. It truly does."

"You are irreplaceable," Lionel told her, pulling her in for a hug. "I'm so glad to have you back," he whispered.

Rose realized that she was hugging him back. And to her surprise, she liked the way it felt.
Chapter Twenty-Six

After breakfast the next morning, Mr. Douglass, Lionel, and Rose took a cab to the police headquarters. They spoke to a detective, Mr. Hamilton, who listened intently at his desk while Rose told her story. He tapped his lips with a green pen.

"Now, that is curious," he said when Rose reached to the part in her recollections about Rodney and Mother discussing the jewelry. "And you said this Rodney fellow worked at Herald's Jewelry? The one that was robbed?"

"Yes, sir, he did," Rose replied.

"And this is the first time you are reporting this adopted mother of yours?" The detective asked for clarification.

"Well, no," Rose told him. "You should have a report from a week and a half ago, on a Thursday. Rodney, the guy I seeing, reported what happened when she grabbed me in the alleyway."

The investigator raised his eyebrows. "Did he really report it?"

Rose realized at once how foolish what she said sounded. She blushed. "Well, I guess maybe he didn't. He wouldn't want the authorities to know. He probably lied to me about that, too."

The investigator buzzed a secretary. "Hello, Miss Paul? Will you please look up a police report for an incident involving Rose Porter or Lisa Porter?"

"Yes, sir," replied the female voice on the line.

"Finish telling me everything, and then I will need to make a couple phone calls," the detective told Rose.

She finished telling him the rest of the conversation she had overheard. Then the phone on Detective Hamilton's desk rang. He picked it up, listened for a moment, and then hung up.

"No, there is no such police report," the detective told her. "That Rodney fellow lied to you about that, as well."

Rose nodded, accepting the difficult truth. Lionel and Mr. Douglass sat silently on either side of her.

Detective Hamilton excused himself and left the room. Through the large glass window, Rose could see him talking on the telephone. His face was serious.

After five minutes, he entered the small room again. Rose, Mr. Douglass, and Lionel listened as the detective spoke. "It is just as I suspected," he said. "A fellow named Rodney Martin did manage the Herald's store. He is currently listed as person of interest. He quit his job there not long before the robbery. When the store manager and an investigator attempted to contact Mr. Martin, they found that he had given a false address and telephone number. The police are looking for him, so we are very thankful for the information you gave us regarding his whereabouts."

"Do you think the woman who kidnapped me is also involved in the jewel robbery?" Rose asked.

"It would appear so," Detective Hamilton replied. "She obviously has a criminal background because of the kidnapping. So it seems, based on what you told us, that they could be working together."

"I believe that these criminals sound dangerous," Mr. Douglass said to Detective Hamilton.

"Yes, I would agree," he said. "Do you secure all your doors at night? I am a bit concerned for the safety of Miss Porter here. I also found out that this Mr. Fontaine they mentioned is the leader of a ring of well-known jewel thieves. They mostly rob high end jewelry shops in England and other large cities in Western Europe. These thieves have been known to be violent."

"Yes, we do lock our doors," Mr. Douglass replied. "I do know something of this ring of thieves you speak of. I read the newspaper often. Is there anything else we should be doing?"

"Well, because this Rodney Martin fellow knows where you live, I would be cautious," Detective Hamilton told them. "Miss Porter, I wouldn't go anywhere unaccompanied, if I were you. They may target you."

Rose nodded.

Detective Hamilton continued. "I will see if I can get an officer to patrol your street at night."

"Thank you, Detective Hamilton," Mr. Douglass said. "My wife and I need to make a trip to Scotland for a week due to embassy business, but Rose, Lionel, and my daughter will go stay in London while we're away. So I'm grateful."

"A nightly patrol will certainly be for the best, then," Detective Hamilton replied.

"I'm going to sleep with my gun beside me at night," Lionel announced after they left.

"You have a gun?" Rose whispered.

"Yes," Lionel replied. "Just a small one. A little pistol."

"I'm going to tell all the hired help to be alert and on their guard," Mr. Douglass told them. "I would cancel the trip to Scotland if we could, but it's important. Lionel?"

"Yes, dad?"

"I'm going to leave the car for you to drive," Mr. Douglass told him. "The less time you three spend walking and on the trains, the better. Just make sure you lock it up in the garage at night."

"Yes, sir." Lionel smiled. "Thanks! I like driving the car."

"I know you do." Mr. Douglass patted his son on the shoulder. "How about we eat lunch?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Lionel told him. "Mom is out shopping and only Julie's at home. She already told me she's having spinach and carrot juice for lunch, with a bowl of Brussel sprouts."

"In that case, I'm glad I asked, too." Mr. Douglass laughed.

"I hope I can convince her to get off that crazy diet soon," Rose told them. "Carrot juice, ugh."

They went to a small pub. Mr. Douglass and Lionel ordered fish and chips, while Rose got Scotch eggs with stone ground mustard.

Over their lunch, Mr. Douglass went over all the precautions they should take while he and his wife were away.

"Lionel, I'm putting you in charge of checking the locks at night," he told his son. "Check all the windows, as well. Don't leave any downstairs windows open. Rose, would you be able to help Lionel check the windows?"

"Of course," Rose told him.

"Okay, thank you. Now, please try to avoid going out after dark. And please, don't go anywhere alone. You should all have at least one other person when you go out."

"Absolutely," Lionel agreed.

"Okay, I think you three should be just fine," Mr. Douglass told Rose and Lionel. "You're smart and I know you'll be cautious."

"We will, dad," Lionel told him. "Just have a good time on your trip."

"We'll call you often," Mr. Douglass promised.

"We'll be fine." Lionel put his arm around Rose.
Chapter Twenty-Seven

Would you like to go out for a drive this afternoon?" Lionel suggested on a sunny day. Mr. and Mrs. Douglass had left for Scotland almost a week before.

"I'd love it!" Rose exclaimed. They had been spending more time inside the house than usual, so Rose was grateful for an outing.

Grabbing the keys, they hurried out the door . The car was a small convertible, and the wind blew through Rose's hair as they drove with the top down. Lionel sped around twists and turns in the road. Rose figured that his daring moves were mostly to keep her entertained.

They drove in front of Buckingham Palace and by Trafalgar Square. They went all around the theater district and over the Tower Bridge. They drove in the tunnel under the Thames and went by the Portobello Road market.

As they drove, Rose reached over and grabbed Lionel's arm. He glanced in her direction with a smile. With the wind blowing through her hair and Lionel beside her, Rose felt free as they sped through the London streets.

"I forgot to tell you, but Detective Hamilton called earlier," Lionel told Rose. "I guess the police checked out the house in Bexley, the one where Rodney lives"

"Oh?"

"Well, he wasn't there," Lionel explained. "They found some evidence, but no Rodney."

"Well, I sure hope they find him soon," Rose told Lionel. "I'll feel safer when all those people are locked up."

"I don't blame you," Lionel replied, looking over at her. "Why don't we go to Harrods and walk around?" Lionel suggested. "We can have tea and sandwiches."

Rose agreed and they parked the car. The department store with bustling with crowds, so Rose and Lionel made their way to the tea room. They ordered Lady Grey tea and cucumber sandwiches, and talked casually about what Lionel was going to do now that he was done with school.

"After I take Julie to Sarah Lawrence, I'm coming back to London," Lionel told Rose.

"So what if you still want to go to law school?" Rose asked.

"I think I'd like to go somewhere here," Lionel told her. "I like London. I like the people here."

Rose nodded.

"And what are your plans?" Lionel asked her. "Are you going to stay on after the summer? My mom always needs an extra set of hands around here. I know she loves working with you. She talks about it all the time.

Rose smiled. "Yes, I'd love to stay. It'll be really quiet without Julie, though."

"It'll be like a cemetery." Lionel laughed.

"Oh, hush!" Rose playfully smacked his arm.

"I'm glad you're staying," Lionel told Rose. "I like it when you're around. I think I really realized that when you were gone."

After a while, they got up to walk around the store. They walked by the jewelry counter and Rose stopped to admire a necklace with round, green glass beads.

"What a stunning color," Rose mumbled.

"You like it?" Lionel asked.

Rose nodded.

"I want to buy it for you," Lionel told her. "I heard you mention you never had jewelry growing up. You've been through hell and back lately. I think you deserve something special."

"Please, Lionel, you don't have to," Rose protested.

"I want to," Lionel insisted. "Please let me buy it for you."

"Fine," Rose said. "Thank you. I do like it a lot."

Lionel motioned to the female clerk to show they needed assistance. The woman reached into the display case and pulled out the necklace, setting it on the counter. She lifted it up with a gloved hand and held it in front of Rose for her to view it. The beads were the color of jade.

The woman held the necklace out to Rose so she could try it on. Rose lifted her hair and Lionel helped her secure the clasp. The beads were cool on Rose's neck and chest.

"You like it?" Lionel asked.

"I love it," Rose replied. Lionel helped her undo the clasp and Rose handed it back to the clerk.

"Box it up, please," Lionel requested.

The woman clerk took out a square white cardboard box with Harrods printed in gold lettering. She wrapped the necklace in crisp white tissue paper and gently placed it into the box. Then she closed the box snugly, set it into a bag, and handed the bag to Lionel, who paid in British pounds. Rose was happy to own such a lovely piece and thanked Lionel with sincerity.

The two walked around a bit more and then left to continue their drive. Once in the car, Rose opened up the box with her necklace and Lionel helped her to fasten it around her neck. She shivered as the cool beads touched her neck in the hot summer air.

"Let's swing by the house and get Julie," Rose said to Lionel. "I want to show her my necklace. And as long as her weigh in was what she wanted, she should be off the vegetable diet."

They drove down several residential streets until they reached the Douglass home. They parked on the street right in front of the house next door.

"Wait!" she cried in a whisper. "Duck down!"

Lionel gave her a curious look, but followed her orders without question. "What on earth are we doing?" he whispered as he was hunched over in the driver's seat.

"There's a man out there," Rose whispered. "He's wearing a dark coat, which is strange for such a warm day. And he has a fedora on. He's standing by the iron gate, staring at the house."

"Maybe he's just a neighbor," Lionel suggested.

"But why would he be stopped, staring at your house?" Rose pointed out. "And why the coat?"

"Okay, so you do have a point," Lionel responded.

"Peek up and watch him," Rose instructed.

"What if he sees me?" Lionel asked.

"If he's here for trouble, he only wants me," Rose whispered.

Lionel lifted his head just high enough to catch a glimpse of the man. He spoke down to Rose, who was still ducking down in her seat. Every time the man moved, Lionel informed Rose of exactly what he was doing.

"Okay, now he's reaching up the scratch the tip of his nose," Lionel said in a serious tone.

"Lionel!" Rose moaned. "I don't need to know all that!"

"Well, now he's adjusting his hat," Lionel continued. "He's got an umbrella hanging on his arm, and it's swinging back and forth. This leads me to believe that he moved his right arm slightly."

"Lionel!" Rose cried with exasperation. "Please! Is he doing anything important? Anything suspicious, maybe?"

"Not a single thing," Lionel replied. "He's just standing there, staring. Like he's waiting."

"Waiting for me, I'll bet," Rose said softly, trying to keep fear out of her voice.

"Oh, my!" Lionel said, his voice filled with excitement. "The front door is opening! And out comes... oh, it's Mrs. Lang, our cook."

"So what's he doing now?" Rose asked.

"Well, he turned away as soon as the door opened," Lionel told her.

"So he's not just a neighbor," Rose said to him in an I-told-you-so tone.

"Apparently not," Lionel replied.

"He must be up to no good if he feels the need to hide from Mrs. Lang," Rose suggested.

"Oh! Mrs. Lang walked up the street just now," Lionel said with excitement. "And as soon as her back was turned, he started walking very quickly in the opposite direction!"

"Well, where's he going?" Rose asked, frantic. "We can't lose him!"

"Oh, up ahead a block down, I see a white car," Lionel told Rose. "He's beside it. Oh! He's unlocking it. Now he's getting in."

"Well, let's follow him!" Rose cried. "I'll stay down and you just get behind him. I doubt that he would recognize you. He's looking for me, remember?"

"Are you sure about this, Rose?" Lionel's voice showed his hesitation.

"Please, Lionel?" Rose begged. "Please do this for me today."

Lionel's foot hit the accelerator and the tires screeched slightly as they took off. He slowed down as he approached the white car, which was now driving. Driving slower than normal, Lionel still kept a safe distance from the man, so as not to make him suspicious. He did not need to know that he was being followed.

Several sudden turns made Rose shift considerably in her seat. She hoped Lionel wouldn't lose this man's car.

Lionel cursed under his breath and slammed on the breaks. "I caught a stop light, but he made it through."

Rose peeked her head up. "So we've lost him," she said, her voice filled with disappointment.

"Apparently," Lionel replied with sarcasm.

The light turned green and Lionel quickly moved the car forward. Rose sat back up in her seat and crossed her arms. They went around a corner and saw a line of cars up ahead. They were all stopped at a stoplight.

"There he is!" Lionel cried. "Whew. Now get back down, Rose." Rose ducked back down in her seat quickly.

After several more minutes of driving, the car turned onto a secluded residential street. Huge trees lined both sides and cars were parked along the road. The man stopped in front of a tall, stately-looking blue house. It was not the home of an incredibly wealthy individual, but it was still large, well kept, and cared for.

Lionel slowly stopped by a house that was several homes away. Rose could tell he was watching the man. Her heart began racing.

"He's going inside the house," Lionel whispered. "We should call the police and tell them that we've potentially found the hideout spot."

"No, I want to sneak around back and peek through the windows first," Rose protested.

"What?" Lionel laughed. "Rose, have you lost your mind?"

"Yes, you heard me!" Rose said with a coy smile. "How dare that guy spy on me? I'm ticked off. I'm sick of being used and lied to and abused. I deserve much better than this. I'm just fed up with being jerked around and I'm sick of being afraid."

"Wow, I'm impressed!" Lionel responded, grinning. "I like this bold new you."

"You should be," she replied. "This is the new Rose. This is it. I'm not going to run away ever again."

"So you've been keeping all this feelings inside?" Lionel asked.

"Yes, I have," Rose realized. "And I'm ready to let them go. So you can stay behind if you want, but I'm going to look in those windows. I might even go inside." She opened the door to exit the car.

"Wait," Lionel called after her, putting his hand on her arm. "I'm not gonna let you go alone. I'm coming with you."

"You sure?"

"You aren't going to do this by yourself."

"Thanks, Lionel." Rose smiled.

"Hey, it's starting to get dark out now," Lionel said, looking out the car window and up toward the twilight sky.

"So we should wait, right?" Rose said.

"Now you are thinking like a true detective!" Lionel responded to her question.

Together they leaned back in their seats and stared up at the darkening sky. Stars crept up and appeared beyond the nighttime clouds. It seemed peaceful on this quiet street. Rose savored the peace, not knowing what the rest of their evening would entail.

Time seemed to pass quickly as they waited in the quiet stillness of the evening, whispering in conversation here and there. Rose felt safe just to be near Lionel, and she was overcome with a boost of courage to know that he would be with her as she went up to the strange house. As she sat there, staring at the sky, she began to wonder.

Is Mother really a jewel thief? Will I find her with a room full of jewels? What exactly does a real jewel thief do with the stuff they steal, anyway? Rose wondered. The more that she thought about it, the more than it seemed like some sort of a sort of fantasy. Jewel thieves? Really? The more that Rose thought about the whole situation, the more strange it all seemed. It seemed too fantastical to even be true. Maybe this is stupid. This could be dangerous. They probably have knives and guns. Maybe we shouldn't go. Maybe we should just leave it to the police.

"Well, I'd say it's dark enough," Lionel commented, glancing over at her, interrupting her thoughts. Rose could see his face in the pale lamplight.

"I guess so," she said with hesitation. Her heart was pounding and her face was flushed.

Do I really want to do this? Rose thought frantically. What if these people tried to kill me? Should I risk my life?

"Come on," said Lionel. "If you are sure."

"Do you think we are stupid for doing this?" Rose asked him before exiting the car.

"Probably," Lionel replied. "I guess we are going to do something completely stupid and careless."

"But maybe we will always regret it if we don't," Rose reasoned.

"Famous last words," Lionel replied with a grin.
Chapter Twenty-Eight

Lionel and Rose crept toward the tall blue house in the shadows, avoiding the beams of light from the street lamps. They whispered back and forth as they dashed toward the house. When they reached it, they ducked down behind the black iron fence and hedges, which were in front of the house. They could tell that many lights were on, but thick curtains were drawn over all the windows.

"Why don't we go to the back of the house?" Rose suggested in a whisper.

Lionel nodded. They walked through the next door neighbor's side yard to reach the back, because the iron fence went entirely around the blue house. They found a short stone wall by an herb garden in the dim moonlight. Rose could smell the fragrant parsley, thyme, peppermint, and rosemary as they walked beside the small, square garden. She and Lionel both hopped on the wall and gripped the spikes on top of the iron fence.

"Should we hop over it?" Rose asked with hesitation.

"I don't see why not," Lionel responded.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Rose questioned.

"Look, Rose," Lionel whispered to her. "If we are going to do this, let's do this."

"You're right," Rose muttered. "I just don't want to get impaled by a fence."

"We'll be careful, Rose," Lionel reassured her. "Haven't you ever hopped over a fence before?"

"Not that I can recall," Rose confessed. "I lived a very sheltered life."

Suddenly they heard the loud, monstrous bark of a dog. Rose's heart dropped, expecting to see the dog charging at them from the blue house. Lionel grabbed her hand. But after several seconds, Rose realized with relief that the dog was in the yard of the neighbors behind the blue house.

Rose and Lionel waited for a few minutes for the barking to cease. Pressing their bodies up against the iron fence and staying in the shadows, they waited with their chests heaving from the frightening sound of the dog. The barking became less and less frequent and finally after about five minutes, it stopped completely.

Walking by the other side of the garden, Rose found a narrow gate. It seemed to be almost rusted shut, but Rose and Lionel were able to push on it so that it opened a little. The opening was just large enough for them to slide through.

Bravely, Rose and Lionel crawled toward the house. The reached a door that seemed to go into the cellar. It was an old wooden door, and it seemed to be rotted out at the bottom. They pulled on it and it slowly opened. Thankfully, instead of creaking, the rough bottom scraped against the small cement slab underneath.

Inside, they entered the dark and musty cellar. There was a lone window, which let in a faint bit on moonlight. Lionel pulled out a match from his pocket.

Behind them, they heard movement. Then an object fall to the floor with a small crash. Rose and Lionel froze and did not move for several seconds.

Then they heard a meow sound and realized that there was a cat in the cellar. Once again, they sighed a breath of relief. The cat seemed to be minding her own business.

"Are you sure we should do this?" Rose asked with caution. "I don't know if I have the same courage I had earlier," she confessed.

"You can do it," Lionel said. "If you want to, that is. If you want to turn back now, we'll turn back. Logically, turning back is the safe thing to do. But if you are in, I'm in. This is our adventure. If we stay, you need to do this for you."

"Yes, you're right," Rose admitted, though part of her wished to turn back, go home, and get into her soft, safe bed.

Lionel lit a match. They saw up ahead a narrow, wooden stairway. They followed it up, careful to make as few creaking noises as possible.

When they reached a door, they peeked through the large keyhole. The room was dimly lit, but they could see that it was a kitchen. It was empty, so they slowly opened the door and entered. Thankfully, the door into the kitchen did not creak at all.

The kitchen had a black and white checkered floor and white and grey marble countertops. They silently investigated the room and soon found a back stairway behind a door. It was a spiral staircase. It was probably built a century ago for the servants, Lionel explained in a soft whisper. They entered into the stairwell and shut the door behind them. There was a window somewhere near the top, which was letting in a faint light. Together, they climbed the staircase.

Inside the closed area of this stairway, Rose felt a little safer and less nervous than she had been out in the more open kitchen area. After climbing up four flights of stairs, they reached another door. They peeked through the keyhole and saw a long, narrow hallway. It was lit with a few wall sconces.

They opened the door, and again, to their relief, it made no sounds. They crept down the hallway, which was lined with simple doors on both sides. Rose's heart began to pound as she imagined one of those doors opening at any moment and a person stepping out, discovering them.

Curious, Lionel peeked into one of the rooms. Inside the room was a simple white iron bed, a cherry dresser, a wardrobe, and a rag rug. He peeked into two more and they were almost identical.

"It looks like these are the old servant's quarters," Lionel whispered to her. "Let's move on."

At the end of the hallway was a door. Again, they peeked through the keyhole. This time they saw a larger, and more elegant looking staircase going down. The staircase had walls on either side, so Lionel suggested that they venture downstairs.

They quietly plodded across the carpet on the new staircase. Then they reached a landing with another hallway. Sensing that this was a more frequently used floor, they ducked into a room that was behind a closed door.

Inside the room was a fireplace, an elegant looking leather sofa, a wooden side table, and a small desk and chair. A few paintings of pastoral scenes in gilded frames hung on the wall. A thick green carpet was on the floor. The only light came from a single desk lamp, which had been left on.

What was curious about the room, however, was that all over the sofa, the side table, and on the desk, as well as on the floor, were various sizes of black boxes. They were stacked in a neat way.

"Oh," Rose cried, in a voice too loud. "Wow, oh my. You aren't going to believe this. I remember these boxes."

"What?" Lionel asked curiously.

"When I was a little girl, after those men would visit Mother, there would be boxes like these in our house," Rose whispered. "She usually kept them in her study. Once I asked her if they were presents. She snapped at me and told me that no, they were not presents. Then she told me that these boxes were for grown ups only, and that if I ever touched one I would be very, very sorry."

"So what do you think is in them?" Lionel asked.

"No clue," Rose replied.

"Are you ready to finally found out?" He whispered to her, a mischievous grin filling his face.

Rose nodded, eager to discover the contents of the boxes. She bent down and picked up a box on top of a large stack that was on the floor. The box was not heavy as she held it in her hand. She plopped down on the edge of the sofa and set the box on her lap. As her heart began pounding, Rose slowly pulled off the lid.

Rose gasped when she discovered what was inside. A gold necklace with large round diamonds all around it was resting inside the box. The jewels caught the light of even the small desk lamp and they shimmered.

Lionel opened another box, and this time he found an emerald bracelet. They opened several more boxes, each time finding a new piece of jewelry. Rose began to have fun, opening each box and finding what new surprise jewels were inside.

"I'm not jewelry expert," Lionel whispered. "But my mom and grandmother have some nice pieces of jewelry, which are family heirlooms. And from what I know, these are some very, very expensive pieces of jewelry."

"What do you think we should do?" Rose asked in a soft tone. "I think we should probably go to the police right away. That's probably better than me facing my fears here. I think maybe we should go now. This place is kind of giving me the creeps. What if they find us here?"

"I think you're right," Lionel replied in a whisper. "Should we go back the way we came?"

Rose nodded. Her heart was beginning to pound again. What if someone heard them? What if these people were truly dangerous? Rose tried to force herself not to think about these things.

Lionel peeked out the keyhole of the door and, seeing nothing, stepped outside. Rose walked behind him, clinging to his arm. She was suddenly overcome with fear and clung to Lionel's arm more tightly. This tall, dark house seemed to ominous, with its dim, empty halls and rooms.

They walked back up the stairs with small, quiet footsteps. Rose began shaking. In her chest, she could feel her heart racing. It pounded in her head and she began to get dizzy. Noticing that she was upset, Lionel opened one of the doors to the servant's bedroom and led her to sit down on a lone chair.

"What's the matter?" he asked her in a whisper.

"I don't know," replied Rose. She began shaking her head. "I just feel like we are in danger."

"You're just worrying," Lionel reassured her. "We'll be fine."

Rose nodded, but she was still scared. Lionel put his arm around her and gave her shoulders a squeeze. Rose looked up at him in the moonlight from the window and forced a smile.

"Here," Lionel finally said. "I've got an idea. I'll go back down the back staircase and check in the kitchen to make sure the coast is clear. Then if it is, I'll come back and get you and we'll leave. How does that sound?"

"That's a good idea," Rose admitted.

"Good," said Lionel, reaching for the doorknob to leave. "Now wait here. I'll be right back."
Chapter Twenty-Nine

Once Lionel left, Rose was overwhelmed with a sense of loneliness. She became more afraid as the minutes dragged by. She waited in the dark room, thinking of horrible scenarios. Lionel had been gone for a couple minutes when Rose heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. He really should walk more softly, Rose thought to herself.

Relieved that Lionel was back, Rose jumped up from her chair and opened the door to the hallway. She left the room and nearly collided with a tall, overweight older man. He nearly toppled over.

"What's this?" he barked at her. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"I-I-I," Rose stammered, in complete shock. Her body was frozen with crippling fear.

Shaking her head, Rose took two slow steps back. Then she turned to run, but a hand grabbed her forearm, gripping it tightly. Rose yanked her arm with all of her strength, but the hand that held it was too strong.

The man dragged her down the hall, pulling her by the arm. Rose leaned back with all of her weight and wriggled to get away. The man kept his gaze forward, ignoring her, and gripped her arm more tightly.

I can't scream, she thought dizzily. Screaming will draw attention to me from anyone downstairs. Lionel may hear me, but the people in this house would get to me first. I have to get away. I have to get out of here!

She could see the stairway up ahead, only a few steps ahead. Frantic, she threw her body to the floor, swung her right leg in front of the man's feet, and swiped into his legs. Falling forward, he toppled forward with a yelp, taking Rose with him.

Rose's body was dragged across the floor until it was beside the man, who lay flat on his face. Seizing the opportunity, Rose gave her arm one final yank. Her arm was freed and she jumped to her feet and ran down the hall toward the narrow servant's stairway, which was where Lionel was.

Behind her, Rose heard the man plodding down the hall after her. Not wanting to lead the man to Lionel, Rose opened a door to the right and went inside. She quickly shut the door behind her and locked it. Looking around the dim, moonlit room at lightning speed, Rose spotted a small desk. She grabbed the edge of the desk and dragged it across the carpet and against the door. On the other side of the door, she could hear the man struggle with the doorknob.

Breathing heavily, Rose leaned against the desk and looked for a lamp. She found one on a bedside table and reached to turn it on. The room was almost identical to the one she had been in before. Seeing the window as her only exit, Rose ran to it. She pulled back the heavy blue curtains, only to find four floors to the ground and nothing else. There was no ledge and no tree. Shaking her head, Rose backed up and went over to the desk again. Now there was nothing but quiet on the other side of the door. The man had stopped pounding on the door and jiggling the doorknob.

Rose's heart was still pounding. What do I do? Should I peek out? Should I run out and hide in another room to throw him off? What if he didn't leave? What if he's quietly waiting? Rose chewed on her bottom lip nervously. Why did I do this? Why did I stupidly decide to sneak into a strange house all because I was angry? She rubbed her sore arm, which she was certain was bruised from the tight grip of her captor. The leg that she had used to trip the man also was aching. A sharp pain shot up it. Where is Lionel? She wondered anxiously.

After about five minutes of waiting in silence, Rose feverishly decided to take a chance and run down the hall to another room. She moved the desk. Then she took several deep breaths and placed her hand on the doorknob. Cautious, she unlocked the door. She peeked out and found the hall empty. Then she shut the door softly and ran across the hall to another closed door. This one was locked, so she went to another one. It opened and she went inside. Shutting the door, she reached for the lock.

Rose's heart dropped. This door had no lock. Should I risk going back out there? She wondered. Deciding against it, she noticed the silhouette of a dresser in the moonlight, which was streaming in from a window. She reached to move the dresser, but then heard a footstep outside the door. Desperate, Rose opened the door of a large wardrobe and stepped in, shutting the door behind her. She hid behind several thick coats.

For the next couple minutes, Rose there were voices in the hallway. Then she heard doors opening and slamming shut. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her pounding heart.

Rose heard the doorknob on the door into the room she was in turn. Then she could hear the door swing open. Two sets of footsteps walked across the floor.

Please, dear God, don't let them find me, she prayed. Please make them turn around. Please don't let them open these doors.

Suddenly, both doors to the wardrobe swung open. In the moonlight and through the coats, she could see two men. The man who had grabbed her before was there, along with a tall, slender man in a suit with dark, slicked back hair. The large man who had captured her earlier pulled the coats apart. Seeing her, he grabbed her with both hands, while the other man put some sort of cloth over head.

Struggling, Rose finally let out a scream. She kicked and tried to scratch, which only made her captors curse in loud voices and grip her more tightly. She continued to struggle as they seemed to drag her down the stairs.

Then Rose heard a door open and she felt as if she were being dragged into a room. Her body was thrown down hard onto the floor. She tumbled and her sleeve ripped. She let out an agonizing howl of pain. Everything ached, from her head to her arms to her legs.

The cloth was removed from her head and the man in the suit towered over her as she lay on the floor. His face was as cold as steel, and Rose shivered. She struggled to move, but her body ached from the sharp pain in her arm.

"Who are you?" the man shouted at her. He had a thick French accent. "What are you doing in my house?"

"I-I'm sorry," she mumbled, holding back tears and rubbing her sore arm. "I am in the wrong house. I meant to go next door," she lied.

"Lies!" he shouted. "Filthy lies! You've come to rob me!"

Another man in a suit entered, and approached the French man. "Ah, so you have a burglar?" The other man said.

It was Rodney! The other man was Rodney. Rose gasped.

Suddenly, Rodney let out a massive laugh. He laughed so hard that he leaned over, his hands resting on his knees. His body was shaking with laughter as Rose stared at him in utter shock.

"What the devil is so funny?" the French man asked. "Shut up! Shut up, you stupid idiot!"

"It's her!" Rodney laughed. "It's Lisa! It's Porter's fake daughter!"

"What?" The French man said.

"You heard me, Fontaine!" Rodney said, still laughing. "We've been following her all over London, and here she is, in your own house!"

Fontaine. The French man is Fontaine. What did I get myself into? And where on earth is Lionel? Rose stared at Rodney as he continued laughing and spoke to Fontaine. She glared at him bitterly as he mocked her. If her arm was not aching, she would have jumped to her feet and slugged him in the face.

"Let's leave her in here, and go discuss what we are going to do with her," Rodney suggested. Rose hated how he never even acknowledged her. He ignored her completely. He never spoke a word to her.

To think that I thought I loved him, Rose thought angrily. What a fool I was. I was so stupid.

"Fine," the man named Fontaine said. "This door locks from the outside, so she won't be going anywhere."

"Her body is too weak to even attempt any sort of an escape," Rodney reassured him.

The two men walked out, shut the door, and locked it. Rose looked around the room. It was very similar to the room that she and Lionel had found earlier, only there were no black jewelry boxes in this one. Rose's arm stung. I think it might be broken, or at least fractured, she thought with woe.

Rose could hear the two men talking in loud voices from the heating vent. They were discussing her.

"Should we get rid of her tonight?" Rodney asked.

"As soon as possible," Fontaine replied.

"Would you like me to take care of it?" Rodney asked, sounding eager.

"I suppose so," Fontaine said absently.

"What do you think?" Rodney asked. "A bullet? Or I can use a knife if you'd rather."

"Neither," Fontaine responded. "Both are messy." Both men began laughing heartily, as

if someone had told a good joke.

Rose's mind was racing. They are going to kill me. They're going to kill me tonight. She glanced all around, trying to think of any means of escape. She looked behind her and spotted a window.

"Let's have a drink before you do the deed," Fontaine suggested. "I always find that these sorts of things are easier after a brandy or two."

Rose heard their footsteps as they walked down the hall. Seizing her last opportunity to live, Rose scrambled to her feet. She crossed the room to peer through the glass window. What luck! Rose thought with satisfaction. Right outside the window was a large tree branch. It was about five feet from the window, but she was certain she could jump. A few times during her childhood, Mrs. Harrison had taken her to Central Park in New York and she had climbed trees with some children who were there. She felt confident that she could get down by climbing the tree.

Gazing down at the tree, Rose realized that the tree was actually in the next door neighbor's yard. The branches merely reached over to the house she was in. When she climbed down to the bottom, she would be in the neighbor's yard.

Opening the window with her uninjured arm, Rose hopped onto the windowsill. Taking a deep breath and saying a quick prayer, she boosted herself up to a standing position. Then, with all her strength, she took a giant leap from the window ledge to the extended tree branch five feet away. She winced in pain as both her arms grasped onto the thick branch. She hung for a moment, glancing down and remembering with fright that she was hanging three stories above the ground.

Rose used all of her upper body strength to hoist herself up on top of the branch. She wrapped her legs around it and began crawling slowly and with care down toward the main trunk. She glanced nervously back to the window, but the room she had come from still appeared to be empty.

Once at the tree trunk, proceeded with caution. She climbed down from branch to branch. The process was painful, but she was determined. It took several minutes, but at last she reached the lowest branch. It was still about ten feet from the ground, but Rose held her breath and let go, landing hard on the soft grass.

After a moment, Rose hopped up and brushed herself off. She ran, limping slightly, through the neighbor's yard. She peeked out onto the street when she reached the fence in the front.

To her surprise, Rose spotted a police officer, crouching beside some hedges across the street. Rose breathed a massive sigh of relief and let her body sink onto the grass. She began weeping.

"Lionel must have called them," she whispered. "Oh, thank God! Thank God!"

Regaining her strength, Rose's exhausted body struggled to get up. But finally she got to her feet and opened the gate on the neighbor's fence to get onto the sidewalk. She approached the police officer with her hands up and her palms face forward.

"It's me," she said, her voice filled with relief. "It's Rose Porter. It's me. I'm safe. I'm alive."
Chapter Thirty

Everything that happened afterward was a blur to Rose. Lionel had to retell the events in order to help her to remember. She listened intently, and pieced together his story with her own memories of the events that followed.

After telling the policeman who she was, another officer led her to a police car and helped her to get in. He drove her to a waiting ambulance, which took her to a hospital. Lionel was waiting for her at the hospital when she arrived.

The police raided the house just minutes after she was taken away. There they found Fontaine, Rodney, the man that she and Lionel had followed, the man who had found Rose in the attic, and several others, who were accomplices. They also found over eighty million pounds in jewels and with them the answers to many mysterious and unsolved jewel robberies in England and around Europe. The only person they did not find was Mother.

After Rose was treated for her fractured arm and her other scrapes and bruises, she was moved into a cheerful enough hospital room. A nurse helped her to get settled in the new room. An hour later, Lionel came in to see her. He held her close and cried as he told her about his frantic attempts to help her.

Rose was stiff in his arms, not used to being held with such tenderness. But slowly her body relaxed as Lionel told her what happened.

"After I went down the servant's staircase," Lionel explained. "I checked the kitchen and there was no sign of anyone. But I still wanted to be able to reassure you that no one was around, so I went ahead and peeked around a little. There seemed to be no sign of life anywhere even near the kitchen. By the time I was done looking around, a few minutes had passed by. I went back up the stairs and I heard a commotion, which was you struggling with that oaf of a man. When I went to go help you, the door at the top of the stairs that led into the long hallway was locked! I was ready to bang down the door, but I didn't think it would help you if I got captured, too. Especially not when no one knew where we were. So I snuck into the kitchen and called the police. I had made a mental note of the street name and house number when we arrived."

"Thank you," Rose whispered wearily, leaning her head back on the pillow. "I kept wondering where you were."

"But I didn't give up on you," Lionel continued. "After I called the police, I snuck around the house, trying to find a way to you without making my presence known." His voice was distressed and his eyes were teary. "I was frantic. But then I looked out a window and saw a police officer outside. So I went out to him and told him where I thought you were. Then they forced me to wait with them. I begged to go help find you, but they held me back."

"Honestly," Rose said weakly, still exhausted from the whole ordeal. "I was scared to death. I've never even been half as terrified in my life. But I made it through. I used my wits and every ounce of strength in my body and I escaped. My body feels like death right now, but in my spirit I really do feel as if I could take on the world. Thank you for all you did, Lionel. I really appreciate it."

"Well, let's have you get some rest for the night," Lionel suggested. "You deserve it, and your body needs it. No need in having you stay up. And you're welcome."

"Wait," Rose pleaded. "I don't want you to go. Please stay!"

"Don't you want to get some sleep?" Lionel asked her.

"Would you at least wait until I fall asleep before you go?" Rose begged, smiling sweetly at him.

"Absolutely." He squeezed her hand.

"This isn't going to violate any visiting hours, right?" Rose asked.

"It is, but I made friends with the nurse, so we're fine." Lionel glanced over at Rose and smiled..

Rose smiled back. "Was she pretty?"

"She was quite the beauty," Lionel said, pausing. "Back in 1955. But now she's not quite as pretty as she was then." He smiled teasingly.

"Oh, Lionel!" Rose cried, rolling her eyes.

They spoke for a few minutes more before Lionel let Rose drift off to sleep.

* * *

"You're famous!" Julie cried the next morning, rushing into the hospital room. "It's all over the news. They even had your picture in the newspaper this morning. Front page! To the bottom, in the corner. But still! To think, my best friend and my brother are famous. You both are like celebrities now!"

Rose was sitting up in her hospital bed with a tray of breakfast food on her lap. She smiled at Julie's excitement. Lionel, who came with Julie, looked over at Rose and rolled his eyes.

"Well, I hope it all dies down soon," Rose admitted. "I don't want to be famous. I just want to live a peaceful life. No frills, no fame. Just me enjoying every day and being free from anyone who wants me dead."

"No fame?" Julie asked, her voice filled with shock. "If I were in your shoes, I'd be doing interviews and getting in front of the cameras every chance I got! I'd be waiting for a phone call from the queen."

"Well, that's where you and Rose differ, Julie," Lionel told his sister.

Julie scowled at Lionel. Then she turned back to Rose and smiled. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"I'm glad I'm okay, too," Rose replied. She smiled at her friend.

Julie went on and on about Rose and how she longed for her friend to be well again. She also talked about all the things that they would do together when Rose was well and back home again.

Later in the afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Douglass visited her in the hospital. They spoke kind words and showed great concern. Rose thanked them with graciousness and told them how much she was hoping to come home soon. Before leaving, Mrs. Douglass gave her Rose gentle hug and they said their farewells. Not long after they departed, Lionel and Julie left to let Rose get rest.

Leaning back in her hospital bed, Rose closed her eyes in hopes of falling asleep. Though she was all alone in the room, she felt safe knowing that all the people who were out to harm her were behind bars. All of the people, except for Mother. Rose could feel a shiver go up her spine at the thought, but she pushed away her fear. Hopefully Mother will be found soon, Rose told herself.

* * *

Detective Hamilton from Scotland Yard came to speak with Rose in the hospital the next day. Through the interviews with Rodney, Fontaine, and the others, they had discovered some new information. The investigator had come to question Rose and inform her of the new discoveries.

"Well, we interviewed that Rodney fellow," Detective Hamilton told Rose. "I understand that you spent a lot of time with him. Apparently your kidnapper, the woman who raised you, informed him in June that she thought you may have gone to London. She had him search for you, which he did until he found you. He had seen you before, several years ago, in your Brooklyn home. He had come there with several other men to deliver jewelry.

"That's it!" Rose exclaimed. "I always felt like I had seen him somewhere before. There were always men visiting my adopted mother. So he was there with them. It makes sense now. Why didn't I think of it before? He seemed so familiar from the start. I asked him about it, but he denied it."

"When he found you, he began talking to you with the goal of asking you out and gaining your trust."

Rose's heart began to pound as she listened to the investigator speak. Lionel had been right all along about Rodney. Why didn't I listen to him? Rose thought with regret.

"When he told his girlfriend, your kidnapper, his plan to date you to gain your trust, she became very angry and forbade him from having physical contact of a romantic nature with you. Apparently, she threatened him."

Rose blushed. The investigator continued to read over his notes. Then he continued his story.

"Now, do you remember the day when you were on your way to meet Rodney for lunch and you were confronted by your kidnapper?" Detective Hamilton asked next.

"Yes, I do," Rose said with a shiver. "It's scary just thinking about it. She appeared out of thin air, it seemed liked."

"Well, that was all set up by Rodney," the man went on. "He wanted to convince you that the Lionel Douglass had betrayed you and told your kidnapper where you were. He wanted you to think that Lionel and his family could not be trusted. But apparently, when the woman who kidnapped you finally got her hands on you, she didn't want to let go. She considered taking you away, ruining Rodney's plans. She wanted to harm you."

Rose's face went white as she listened. How did I so narrowly escaped? Rose wondered. It was as if a guardian angel had been watching over me.

"But you managed to escape, luckily," the man told her. "It all aligned perfectly with Rodney's plan. Rodney wanted you to trust only him. He wanted you to be completely dependent on him. Then, when he was convinced that you trusted only him, he was planning to turn you over to this Mr. Fontaine. Surely, at his hand, you would have been killed. They wanted to eliminate you. They were constantly worried that you would report the woman who raised you to the authorities. They were concerned that if you went to the police about the kidnapping, they would find her and also discover her connection to the jewelry shop robberies. And from what you told us, they were planning to kill you last night."

"I see," said Rose as it all sunk in. She shuddered. Ignorance was bliss for me these last couple months, she thought to herself. While I felt safe in the Douglass home, people were looking all around London for me. Those people were waiting to catch me alone. They wanted me dead.

"Do you have any questions for me?" Detective Hamilton finally asked. "I'm sure that this is all a lot to take in. But here is my card, and please feel free to contact me should you have any questions at all." He laid a card down on the table beside her hospital bed.

"I do have one question," Rose said. "What about my kidnapper? Do you think you'll find her soon?"

"I can't discuss specifics, but I'm hopeful that we will find her soon." The man smiled.

The man politely said good-bye and Rose leaned back on her pillows. She suddenly felt very tired. Her body was still sore, but the pain in her arm felt better than it had before. The doctor had told her that she may be able to go home the next day. Rose smiled as she thought of returning home.

* * *

Rose woke up in less pain than before the following morning. Hopeful that she would be able to return home, she sat up and began running a brush through her hair. A nurse came in to serve her breakfast, which she ate while sunshine streamed through the window.

Lionel called her on the telephone, and told her that he and Julie would be stopping by later in the morning. She then hobbled out of bed, showered, and washed her face. She applied some make-up, which Julie had brought by the day before. Rose also changed into a starched and pressed pink nightgown.

A doctor came in and examined Rose. He updated her on her progress, and informed her that she was ready to be discharged.

Ten minutes after the doctor left, Lionel and Julie arrived. They were thrilled that Rose could come home with them. Julie helped her pack her things and Lionel went to the hospital café to get her a cup of coffee. After getting dressed in her normal clothes, Rose left with Lionel and Julie.

Rose took a deep breath of fresh air as soon as she stepped outside. She felt the warmth of the sunset on her face and the breeze blowing through her hair. With the breeze came a beautiful and overwhelming feeling of freedom.

Her legs were a little sore, so Rose walked more at a slower pace than normal. Her fractured arm was in a sling, but otherwise she felt fine.

They went home for a while and ate lunch in the sunny kitchen. Julie was tired and decided to take a nap, but Rose wanted to go out and enjoy the sights and sounds of London. Lionel eagerly offered to go with her. They left the house and walked down the tree lined street.

"Let's ride the Tube," Rose suggested. "I want to go for a walk. I'm still a little sore, but I need the exercise. I'm so sick of being cooped up inside."

"Okay," Lionel agreed.

After a short walk, they rode the Tube on the Piccadilly Line and simply enjoyed the ride. Rose found herself savoring the gentle sway of the train car as they rode through the underground tunnels. Because it was a weekday afternoon, there were few people on board.

"Would you like to go shopping?" Lionel suggested to Rose.

"Sure," Rose replied.

"Why don't we go to the Portobello Road market?" Lionel shared his idea. "The full market is on Saturday, but there are still plenty of shops open during the week."

"Okay, sounds good," Rose agreed.

They switched trains and soon arrived in Notting Hill near the edge of the market. Rose first went into a small boutique shop, which mainly sold dresses. She admired the rows of white and cream lace sundresses hanging on a long rack. Several of them featured sashes in vibrant colors, such as blush pink, peach, lavender, pale green, and sky blue.

"You like the dresses?" Lionel asked her as she gently touched the soft fabric on each one.

"Oh, yes," Rose replied.

"You should buy one for yourself," Lionel suggested.

"Yes, I should," Rose agreed. "I have some money with me."

"So, which dress do you want?" Lionel asked.

"Well," Rose said with hesitation. "I do really like the cream dress with the green edges."

"Then buy it," Lionel said, smiling. He paused and glanced over at Rose. "Listen to me, sounding like Julia now."

"Oh no," Rose teased. "You aren't becoming a shopaholic, are you?"

Rose purchased her new dress and they left the shop, she and Lionel crossed the street and continued slowly down Portobello Road. They stopped in several shops, but no one item stood out to Rose. Lionel suggested that they continue until they get to one of the antique shops.

"So I'm thinking about legally changing my name," Rose told him as they walked at a leisurely pace. "I want a fresh start. And I don't really want to carry the Porter name for the rest of my life.

"Well, what if you get married?" Lionel pointed out. "Then you wouldn't need to be a Porter anymore."

"Yes, true, but that is not in my immediate future," Rose replied. "I was thinking of being Rose Jennings again."

"That makes sense," Lionel said. "I like it. It sounds good."

"I feel a lot more free than I ever did before," Rose told Lionel. "I think I'm braver, too. I kind of want to break out of my routine and see the world."

"You should," Lionel told her.

"Why don't we see the rest of Europe together?" Rose suggested.

"Sure, I'd love that," Lionel agreed. "But when?"

"I don't know," Rose replied. "Anytime, I guess. When we can."

"Where would you want to go?" Lionel asked her.

"France," she said, beginning to list country names. "Italy, Germany, Austria, Switzerland. Spain and Greece, too. Anywhere, I guess. I just want to see the world."

They wandered around the shop for an hour. They came across various antiques, such as a large suit of armor and a set of Royal Albert china.

"I have an idea," Rose announced suddenly. "We should become private investigators. Just independent detectives, you know. We could set up a little office in London somewhere. I think we'd be good at it. We busted those jewel thieves, after all."

"You think so?" Lionel's voice sounded shocked. "Us? We have no experience, no credentials."

"I know, I know," Rose admitted. "And that's where the problem would be. But we could do it kind of for fun at first. Sort of help people out. And then maybe with experience and if we get really good at it, we could make some money."

"I like the sound of the idea," Lionel told her. "But I am worried about our, shall I say, complete lack of experience. Who would trust us with an important case? We're just a couple of young college age kids. We wouldn't know what we were doing."

Rose stopped and walked in front of Lionel. She turned to face him. "Lionel, we snuck into a mysterious house and busted a ring of notorious jewel thieves. We do have some experience."

"Okay, okay, you're right," Lionel admitted, putting his hands up in defeat. "So where do we even start?"

"I don't know, but I'll think about it."
Chapter Thirty-One

Rose settled into her normal routine with ease. She began working for Mrs. Douglass again. Rose found herself enjoying the mundane tasks of filing and typing, which she had found boring before. Julie still worked at the hospital during the week as usual and Lionel often stayed in his room, writing historical articles.

A police officer often patrolled their street and Mr. Douglass made sure that they all took precautions. The doors and windows were securely locked each night and it was a rare occasion for any of them to go out after dark.

Though they did not go out at night, life continued on as normal during the daytime. During the week, Rose and Julie often went to their favorite tearoom. Rose and Lionel took long walks through the park and around the neighborhood during the afternoon. Rose loved how ordinary everything was after her wild experiences. Soon her arm healed and Rose felt like normal again.

One evening, Lionel surprised Rose and Julie and purchased tickets for the three of them to go to a West End show. The show was The Music Man, which none of them had ever seen before. Afterward, they even went out for dessert at a popular restaurant near the Tower Bridge. Rose felt adventurous being out at night, as they had spent many evenings at home since the incident.

It was almost midnight when they got home, so Rose wearily changed into her pajamas and got ready for bed. She hummed the song Good-Night, My Someone from The Music Man as she brushed the tangles out of her hair. The song had been stuck in her head all night. She pulled back the covers and quickly fell asleep, listening to the breeze rustle the leaves outside her window.

* * *

Rose awoke some time later and opened her eyes in the darkness. She sensed a presence in the room. She looked over toward the door into her room and saw that it was open. A pool of light streamed in and a tall, dark figure stood in between the door and her bed.

Squinting her eyes, Rose realized who the figure was.

"Mother."

"I have to do this, Lisa." Mother spoke in a quiet, low voice.

Raising her arm, Mother lifted her arm. In her hand, she held a gun.

"No, Mother," Rose whispered. "Please don't."

"I have to do this," Mother repeated. "They told me I had to do it."

A shot rang out.

Rose screamed.

Mother collapsed onto the floor.

Lionel walked into the room and flipped on the light. Rose's memories were blurred together after that moment.

Rose saw a gun in Lionel's hand. He stood over Mother. Rose looked at Mother, who was lying in a pool of blood. Mr. and Mrs. Douglass rushed in. Mrs. Douglass screamed and Mr. Douglass must have called the police, who arrived within minutes. Julie's high pitched voice came from the hallway, and it was filled with distress.

Rose curled up in a ball on her bed, weeping. Lionel sat beside her, comforting her. Paramedics came and took Mother away on a stretcher. Rose continued to sob.

"It's okay, Rose," Lionel whispered comfortingly. "It'll be okay."

Police investigators entered the room, so Lionel helped Rose into her robe and led her to the sitting room down the hall. Crying for almost an hour, Rose felt her head spinning. What just happened? How did Mother get in the house? How did this happen? Is she dead? Did she just die in my room?

Lionel stayed with Rose and rubbed her back as she cried. Rose finally sat up and wiped her tears away. She realized that for the first time in over ten years, she had really and truly cried. It was a strange feeling, but it also felt freeing to let go and have her emotions flow out through tears.

Rose stood up with Lionel's help as he informed her that he needed to take her downstairs to talk to the police. Rose let herself be led while she tried to grasp all that had happened.

Three policeman sat on the sofa downstairs. Their pens and notepads were laid out on the cocktail table. Rose sat down on an armchair, and Lionel sat nearby.

"Please tell us exactly what happened," one officer requested.

Rose took a deep breath and recalled all that had happened. She told the officers all that she could remember.

"And also," Rose added at the end. "She said something about 'they.' She said 'they' were making her do this."

"I wonder if 'they' is referring to those jewel thieves," one officer muttered to another.

Somehow, in my heart, I don't think so, Rose thought to herself. It must be something more.

"We discovered that the woman picked a lock on the kitchen door," the officer continued.

"So that's how she got in," Rose mumbled.

"Well, thank you for the information, miss," one of the three officers said to her. "The woman who tried to attack you is at the hospital now."

"You're welcome," Rose mumbled, her head down.

Lionel walked with Rose back upstairs. Julie suggested that Rose sleep in her room for the rest of the evening. Rose did not protest.

"Hey, Lionel?" Rose said as they stopped in front of Julie's bedroom door. "Did you shoot Mother?" She knew the answer, but she wanted to hear the words from his lips.

"Yes," Lionel replied with hesitation. "Yes, I did."

Rose looked down at her feet for several seconds. Then she looked back up at Lionel.

"Thanks for saving my life," she whispered to him.

"No problem, Rose," Lionel said to her. "I was up late reading when I heard footsteps in the hallway. I peeked out and saw the strange woman going into your room. So I grabbed my gun and did what I had to do. You aren't upset with me for hurting your mother, are you?"

"She isn't my mother, Lionel," Rose replied. "But I'm not upset with you. You did what you had to do. I'm not exactly sure how I feel about the whole thing. But I know your intentions were good. So thank you for what you did."

"I'm so thankful you're alive, Rose," Lionel said, stroking her cheek.

"I'm thankful to be alive, too." She smiled.

* * *

The next morning, a police officer called Rose. He informed her that Mother had died in the hospital that morning. Lionel would not be charged because he shot Mother defending Rose.

Hanging up the phone, Rose thought about all that had happened. She felt overwhelmed. Mother is dead. The woman who raised me is dead. But that also means that I'm safe from her. She wanted to kill me. She isn't my mother. I have another mother. I have another mother and hopefully she will realize that I'm her daughter. Hopefully she will love me again, like she used to when I was a baby.

Lionel peeked his head through the doorway. "Rose, are you okay?"

"Yes." Rose nodded eagerly. "Yes, I'm fine. I guess I don't know what to feel. I feel something, but it's not grief and it's not happiness."

Looking out the window, Lionel was silent for a while before he spoke. "I hope you can forgive me."

"Forgive you?" Rose was puzzled.

"I wasn't trying to kill her," Lionel explained. "I was trying to save you. It all happened so fast."

Rose nodded. "The whole situation is crazy. I know your intentions were good. And I'm glad that I don't have to worry about her finding me anymore. But I still feel... I don't know. Something inside of me feels loss."

Lionel squeezed Rose's hand.

"But Lionel, I do think someday my birth mother will believe me," Rose told him. "I just got this feeling today. Like, I think I will see her soon."

"I agree," Lionel told her. "She can't deny her own daughter. She has your address, Rose. Don't give up hope. Maybe she'll come find you."

"And until that happens, I'm going to live life and enjoy every moment," Rose announced. "I'm determined to be happy."

"Let's enjoy life together," Lionel suggested.

Lionel stood and looked out the window. The day was sunny and everything outside seemed bright. Rose stared at him standing there. Lionel cared about her, maybe more than anyone. And she realized how much she cared about him. Feeling overwhelmed by love and loyalty, Rose called out Lionel's name. He looked up at her and she smiled. She ran to him and he caught her in his arms. Lionel lifted Rose up and spun her around. For the first time, Rose felt truly free.

* * *

If you enjoyed Replacement Baby, please join Rose on her next adventure, for the mystery of The Vanished Daughter, available wherever ebooks are sold.
