The White Lady - Volume 7

The White Lady : Volume 7

Rose was the daughter of a wealthy merchant; a young lady whose fey heritage shined through her beauty. Though her laughter and gaiety were true, for she sought life's joys and tried to bring them to others, there was a somber part of her few saw. One that would visit the many orphans to bring blankets and food, assist in helping rebuild in labor's cloths and help as she could those in need, though few ever recognized her in her toil stained rags, waist-long shimmering red hair severely bound and pulled under a cap.

After the occupation and after the passage of time to heal emotional and physical wounds, the minds of the populace once more turned to the sureties of life. Holidays resumed, as did community gatherings and courting. Rose had long ago reached the age to wed if she so chose, but until recently had been content to help her father in his shop. That changed when he re-married after the war, and more and more Rose felt a third wheel in their joy. Not because they were cruel about it, but because it highlighted a lack in her life she didn't know she had. So many years had passed with her uninterested, yet it took very little time for rumors of her seeking to make their rounds: flowers, invitations and suitors began appearing upon the family's doorstep.

She agreed first to go with one man to a dance, then with another to a picnic. Yet after some time Rose realized none of these men knew her. Nor was she sure they wished to. For they didn't court her heart, they courted her face and her father's wealth. She tried a while longer but soon her smile became brittle and her hopes sank. Her only happiness in her days was spent with those she could help with her hands, among the hardest hit of the war; the children.

Walking home one evening in the twilight hours Rose passed one of the many humble shrines to O'Ma, the reflective surfaces shimmering, the night's birth of new stars touched by the last hints of glorious color as the sun bade farewell. She paused to reflect, closing her eyes to the physical needs she had just seen and taking a moment to look inside at the hidden need that weighed upon her heart. A tear fell upon a metal bowl, making a small noise, though loud in the evening air. Rose opened her eyes to wipe away the evidence and felt a gentle hand upon her shoulder, the air shimmering with a luminescent light and a hint of music that promised hopes and joys fulfilled. Gathered in a tender embrace, the young woman cried. Tears held back for the horrors she'd seen, anger at the changes in her life, frustration for the things she couldn't change. Soft musical whispers soothed her soul, telling of understanding and that it was natural and healthy to feel this way. That she didn't have to strive to be perfect, only to be herself and she would know joy. The lady stepped away, pressing a lacy bit of beauty into the lass's hand to wipe her tears and bade her to follow. A keen eye would see that the lass was different after the embrace. Though she looked similar to who she was before, it was as if she had faded. Her beauty dulled to averageness.

The two slipped through the city, a tour of the hopes and hurts of their home. Hours passed and they came to a building, once a house for a single family but now a home for many. This one hosted mostly children. They passed a bed with a boy sleeping, and the lady placed sandwiches from a bag upon his nightstand then kept moving. In a few steps she reached a room with two beds, one with a small child in it, the other empty. The lady pulled back the covers, motioned that it was for Rose, and left. Quite fatigued both emotionally and physically, Rose slipped under the covers and was soon deep in sleep.

"HEY! Why are you in my Mommy's bed!" The ground seemed to rumble as Rose's teeth rattled around in her mouth. Groggily she opened tear-swollen eyes to see that the little girl in the bed near her was the one abusing her so. Held back emotions of sorrow made the little one's eyes glossy, at odds with the scowl on her face. An older blond boy walked in, rubbing at his eyes.

"Stop shaking her, Molly, let her speak." He stretched then looked to Rose with sleepy eyes, obviously one slow to rise in the mornings. "Why are you in her Mom's bed."

"The White Lady brought me." Rose was a little confused. What kind of mother didn't come home at night? Then again, Molly looked even more confused.

"The White Lady brought me a new Mommy?" The little scrap of a girl looked to the older boy for guidance. He fingered a top hanging as a necklace quietly before speaking.

"Maybe. Or maybe he is giving her a spoiled brat?" The tone of the words was gentle and teasing, Molly sticking her tongue out in return.

"Am not." Little arms folded over her chest. "Who are you?"

"I'm Rose. And you must be Molly?" She looked to the boy.

"Daniel. I'm Daniel. And late to work."

Another yawn split his face. "You two talk, I'll be back later."

The two girls looked at each other, sizing one another up. Rose curled towards the head of the bed, arms hugging her knees, the young ragamuffin sat with arms akimbo and bed head hair. Rose spoke quietly.

"Why would you think the White Lady give you a new Mother?"

"Mine died." Rose jumped out of the bed, suddenly less comforted in its softness, though more understanding of the outburst. She saw her face in the mirror. How faded she looked and looked back to Molly. What had the White Lady done?! Rose sighed and tried to trust, replaying all the good things she'd heard in her mind. She would trust.

Soon the two were in the kitchen working together to make food for the impromptu family. The shelves were well stocked, and Molly was more adept at cooking than Rose had first assumed. They worked well as a team and Rose realized that Molly had been trying to be a 'Mommy' since hers had died recently from complications of a wound received in the war. Prior to that, Molly's mother had done most of the things keeping the group together as a family, and Molly didn't wish to lose the family she had; a handful of children trying to live among a constantly-changing war-torn city.

Uncertain of the good it would do, but knowing she felt needed for the first time, Rose wrote a note to her family, telling them she needed time to think after the war and had gone on vacation. She would stay, for now.

It was slow, and harder than Rose thought, to gain the trust of the children. There were five in all and very tight-knit. In addition to Daniel and Molly; Fred, Peter and Sarah lived in the little home. It was one of the smaller apartments on the edge of the Eastern residences, and long into the night you could hear merchants hawking their wares. Daniel said he worked in the Forge district, and wouldn't be swayed to find something safer. Fred and Peter ran errands during the day, and Sarah helped out a local weaver. Molly had always helped her mom with the house, so she became Rose's constant companion as she became part of the adoptive family living in the small home.

Rose's age was no free pass, as all in the household had been abandoned in some way by an adult. But time showed her desire to help and be a part of everything. The new 'Mommy' made small touches, putting up curtains with the help of Sarah, repairing furniture with Peter, teaching Fred how to repair rugs after he tore an old one moving a chair from the table. Rose was busy teaching children lessons in the evenings by a warm fire, making and packing them meals for the day, and trying her best to rekindle smiles that had been dimmed by time and trials between the hours of her new job. She'd begun to work in the houses of her old friends, as a maid.

She brought Molly with her, unwilling to leave the child home alone, though it seemed that had happened too much in the young girl's life. There were four families that she attended to, mainly the menial tasks no one in the staff or family wished to do. Rose and Molly became closer among the working moments, helping each other and themselves as each task was accomplished. It was also how she found the fate of a former admirer, caught wooing a daughter and mother alike. Though she may have been arguably affronted, or shocked; her true feelings were of relief of no longer being a part of that society, and sorrow for the slighted ladies.

Rose met the children's other guardian angel when they ran out of grain. Molly took her along a path in the town's outskirts, outside the walls the merchant's daughter never had to traipse. The little girl pointed out the best trees to climb and the apple trees that farmers didn't mind so much if you took an apple for yourself. The two walked hand in hand, as mother and daughter, their humble cloths worn from cleaning the houses of others. Yet happy. And those smiles warmed the world of Henry when he opened the door.

Molly had been getting grain from the mill for years, first with her mother and more recently on her own. Henry knew the fate of the Molly's mother, as it matched the fate of his wife and child. War did that to people, the leftover wounds showing long after the war by the survivors. But the miller did his best to live for those around him, and always enjoyed when Molly came to get grain as it reminded him of her best friend, his own daughter. Somehow, when he gave the little girl a hug, it healed his heart and hers, just a little more. So when the door opened, it was natural that Molly would rush into to the strong man's arms and proclaim that the White Lady had given her a new Mommy and then rush inside to the place she knew Henry always let her sneak a gingerbread golem from when he 'wasn't looking'.

That left two adults gazing at each other warily until one held out her hand.

"I'm Rose."

"Henry." He shook one hand and looked towards the empty sack in her other. "You came for grain I see."

Rose nodded and Henry gestured for her to enter. They both felt shy and unsure, and a shoulder brushing an arm as she passed through the door caused both to pause; cheeks pink. Molly actually started most of the conversation, talking about how the bag had been torn; blaming Peter and praising Rose for fixing it. From there the conversation wound around till Rose found herself offering to make Henry's bags for grain - a task his wife had once done, though he only said that he'd not been able to have them made since the war. To everyone's surprise, even a little felt by Henry, he accepted. And soon Rose and at least one child would make the trip up the country lane every day or two to deliver bags.

Ever so often a bag would contain a flower, or a token when Henry received it. He asked Rose about it, but she was as confused as he. They both agreed that it was probably the work of the White Lady, as she still made nightly trips delivering sandwiches to the small household. So Henry began looking through the bags carefully and giving the tokens back to Rose if it seemed right, or giving some things to his customers. It became a game for Rose and the children to guess what he'd found, and fun stories of shoes a specific size for a child needing them, or a missing button, or even a cake recipe that one person was hoping for would be in the bags. Only through learning about those that came to him for grain and listening to their words could he find where the gifts were intended.

It was Peter's idea to bring Henry food. He mentioned that the miller used to be a little ... larger. 'Not fat,' the youth was quick to follow up, '...just bigger.' Rose looked a little more carefully the next time and did see a type of thinness about him, then again there was a bit of thinness about everyone these days. But this particular thin they could help. All six of them pitched in, making a surprise dinner and taking it out to the Miller, all wrapped in baskets to keep the food warm. What a parade they made down the lane, skipping and telling of their days as they headed towards the large paddles in the sky. Knocking a cheerful tune, they waited, then smiled as he opened the door. Henry seeming surprised and shy and sheepish at the gaggle of them descending. The group ate and made merry telling stories long into the evening before heading home.

That night, as Molly slipped into Rose's bed armed with a teddy bear as she was sometimes wont to do, Rose heard a little groggy 'your hair is so pretty' as the girl drifted to sleep, curled safe in her arms. Rose was surprised, remembering the dingy color in the mirror, but soon followed the child to dreams.

Between bringing Henry baskets, working and her new home, time flew by for Rose, and fall turned to winter. Milling season over, no bags were needed but the family continued their visits. One week they didn't arrive on time and the tall man grew worried. Late that evening there was a knock on his door. Molly was there when he opened it, her face fearful and drawn.

"Rose, are you alright?"

"Molly's missing." The woman did her best to keep the tears back, swallowing and standing a little straighter seeing Henry.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Last night, when I tucked her in."

"Have you told anyone?"

"A few folks know, but we'd thought we'd find her by now."

Just at that moment Peter ran up, out of breath. "Mommy! Henry! I found Molly, but I can't get to her and she's stuck." The two adults tagged after Peter at a jog to a large tree nearby. Up in the top of the branches perched Molly, her face pale and eyes frightened. Henry started up, and realized he was too big for the smaller branches above. He pulled Rose up and steadied her as she reached up for the child. As they worked, a light glow surrounded them, and they felt calm and protected, and when they returned safely from the high branches saw the White Lady at a distance. She smiled. A whisper floated upon the breeze, making the two adults blush and the children beam.

Soon after Henry and Rose were married in a quiet ceremony in a grove. Only the family was in attendance, and a few close friends. As they kissed after their vows, a gentle breeze drifted over the couple, laden with the scent of angel's tears and something akin to a mist drifted with it off of Rose. Everyone held their breath, seeing the fey in Rose the first time, her vibrancy restored. Molly whispered in an over-loud way to Sarah, as children do.

"The White Lady was right ... they do make a beautiful Mommy and Daddy."

Quiet bell-like laughter trailed upon the wind as a family was born from the ashes of war.