The secret of the rose

Part 3 Chapter 19

                                                                    Jenny

Unfortunately, reality catches up with us too quickly. Steven must go back to work, and I must continue my classes at the University. But, every morning, he is there with me, waking up by my side. He takes great care of me, his Jenny, the love of his life. He keeps repeating this sentence to me every day. Routine takes hold, but our love never stops blooming. Steven spends most of his time with me which makes it easy when I invite him to move in. We are a happy couple.

Every evening, I am greeted at Christine's table for a warm meal. I am starting to feel more and more comfortable with her, which gives me confidence, despite my hesitancy to talk to her about my past. Christine listens to my secrets with patience and is sympathetic to my misfortunes. She is not judgmental, and it is beneficial to me. Thus, I can vent my sadness to let myself be imbued with the happiness that Steven gives me.

With my help as a tutor, Steven takes his placement exams and enrolls in distance auto mechanic courses with the Stratford Career Institute. With these courses, he will be able to perfect his knowledge to repair old cars. He talks to me about his plan to have his garage specializing in vintage cars since I first knew him. He has dreamed of it for a long time. An ambitious project, but one that could not have happened without my love and support.

Between his lessons and work, Steven spends his free time making me happy, taking care of me and loving me. Thanks to this love, I regain confidence in myself, and I even make friends at the University. I am no longer the fourteen-year-old girl, ill at ease and rejected by her classmates. I go out occasionally with my new circle of friends, having fun being a young adult. The past four years have not been easy for me, but now I see only a bright future. I am happy, I love a wonderful man and I found in Christine the tenderness of a mother. I thrive while trusting life.

During the spring holidays, we decide to take a little romantic trip. I take this opportunity to visit the generous couple who welcomed me before I moved for the University. The Blackburn's are happy to see me again and are more than happy to finally meet the man who makes my heart vibrate. They find me radiant and fulfilled. The couple could not rent the room where I had slept a few months before, so they invite us to stay during our weekend. Ms. Blackburn is overjoyed to reconnect with me. We spend wonderful days chatting and making up for lost time. I enthusiastically tell them the details of my student life and my accomplishments as a volunteer at the youth center.

While Steven is showing off his talents by patching up Mr. Blackburn's old car, I go away alone to go to my parents' grave. I am not yet ready to speak to him about their tragic death. Thinking or talking about them reopens this hole that has started to close. It is with a bouquet of roses in my hand that I spend part of the morning at the cemetery. I want to tell them about the man who shares my life and who helps me become a fulfilled young woman. I wish they were there to know the man I love. I miss them so much.

When I come back to Steven, he notices that I cried. My red, swollen eyes betray me. He does not insist on asking questions. He knows that if he dares, I will close like an oyster. The simple fact of seeing me so upset tears his heart. We are having dinner with the Blackburn's; the atmosphere is laid back which helps to make me smile again. Throughout the meal, Steven holds my hand under the table to comfort me.

In the morning, we say goodbye to the Blackburn, and we hit the road for our house. The return to Raleigh is less cheerful. I am deep in thought, watching the landscape pass by the window on the passenger side. Steven knows something is wrong. He has learned to recognize the signs since he got involved in this relationship. Whenever he or his mother asks me questions, I take refuge in an unexplained silence. He never insisted, leaving me time to deal with my thoughts. From experience, he realizes that this is not the best solution. He tried several times to make me talk about it, but the words never seem to come out. I always used a trick to change the subject. I am not ready to tell him everything yet. It is too hard, but I will have to do it someday if I want to move forward in this relationship. Back at our apartment, I finally start smiling. Steven's flatteries give me a little joy. His caresses, his soft and languorous kiss make my sorrows of the last days disappear.

We return to our usual occupations and the days pass by, until this night when everything has changed. One full moon evening, we are sitting on the swing looking at the stars. Neither of us speaks, letting ourselves be rocked enjoying the freshness of spring. Finding that the evening is favorable to confidences, I decide to talk to Steven. Feeling confident and ready to dig into my memories, I cuddle up even more in the crook of his arms to feel the warmth that comforts me. I break the silence by starting my story, without stopping, so as not to reverse my decision.

- I want to tell you about my parents. It's not easy to tell you about them since I miss them terribly, but I want you to know who they were.

- Are you sure. I know it's heartbreaking for you to tell me about your past.

- Yes, I'm ready now. Your love made me realize that I must accept my past to move forward. I want to do it for both of us.

- Okay my love. I'm listening to you.

- My mother was a very sweet woman, a little like your mother. Her name was Rose, that's where my middle name comes from. She was very beautiful, tall, slender and had large green eyes. She loved to cook. Every night when I got home from school, she took cookies out of the oven or made my favorite muffins. There was always a smell of fresh bread throughout the house. As you may have noticed, I didn't inherit her talent.

I laugh at this statement. He knows that I am not the best cook. He tries to eat everything even if my small dishes are disgusting. I pull myself together and then continue to speak in a soft voice as I recall the memories of my mother.

- But what she loved the most, apart from me, I said with a sneer, were her flowers. The neighbors said that we had the most beautiful garden in the district. She often gave horticultural advice to the whole neighborhood. Every day there were freshly cut flowers in every room of the house. Her roses even won a prize for excellence in a friendly competition at the Arlie Gardens where she volunteered. She was very proud of it. She hummed all the time; she represented joy. Always smiling and attentive to her family. My father adored her. My parents were the perfect couple.

I take a break, letting my memories take over. Tears sting my eyes. I swallow my tears to avoid crying. Steven takes my hand and brings it up to his lips to give it a kiss to comfort me. His support helps me to continue.

- My father, Francis, was a tall and imposing man, but only in his physique since he was the sweetest of men. He was good, generous, and always available for my impulses as a young girl. I have never been reprimanded. They were so understanding that I dared not do anything stupid for fear of disappointing or disrespecting them.

Steven listens to me carefully. It is the first time I am talking about my past, I want to tell him everything. I catch my breath and continue to dig even deeper into my memories until those I have always hidden.

- They were highly respected by people in the community. My parents often organized fundraising dinners to help the poorest people. It was while returning from one of their banquets organized by my father's accounting firm that they lost their lives. It was raining, my father was driving, and he lost control. The police investigation concluded that their car had skidded and hit a tree head on. They both died instantly.