The man’s coat and light brown breeches seemed a size too big, as if he had received them from someone else, who didn’t have much need of those breeches any longer. Their hands revealed a history of hard work, and their faces showed of days and weeks working in the sun.
“Mr. and Mrs. White,” Edmund stepped a little to the side, “please, come in.”
The man hesitated. The woman waited for him to take the first step, and only once he did so, she followed. Their eyes inspected the room. The moment they saw Rosalie, the woman suppressed a bout of tears, her trembling hand finding her handkerchief and pressing it to her reddened face.
“Rosalie,” Edmund smiled kindly, “may I introduce your parents.”
Epilogue
Rosalie felt like lightning had struck the very room she was standing in. All around her, she could see a bright light, tiny little flickers in the air, remnants of the words Edmund had just spoken out loud. For the moment, no one had dared to move, afraid that they would distort this image and somehow, make it disappear.
Mrs. White sobbed a little, barely audible, but she remained by her husband’s side. Her greying hair was gathered at the back, in a loose bun. Her cheeks were tanned, from the sun and work in the field. But they could all see that despite their social position, they were kind and respectful people, who knew their place.
Rosalie felt more than just kindness towards them. Love had reawakened almost instantly upon seeing them. A child’s love for a mother and a father that could never be extinguished or destroyed. That love would never die, no matter how hard someone tried to bury it with lies and deceit.
Neither Mrs. White nor her husband took their eyes off of Rosalie, not even for a single second. Rosalie felt their piercing gaze, as it went over every inch of her face, her hands, her body. She wondered how long it had been since they had last seen her. She herself had no idea. It seemed such a long time ago, but she remembered details. Her mother’s light blue eyes. The way her father smelled of wet dirt. A heavy fragrance he would always bring back from the field.
Then, finally, a mother’s heart could no longer bear to be apart from her child, her own heart that was beating outside of her body. Mrs. White slowly approached Rosalie; her eyes watery with tears she was holding back. Her arms flung forward, as she wrapped them around Rosalie, who hugged the woman back. Rosalie buried her face into the woman’s neck. She smelled of evenings by the fireside and cooking with onions.
Her mind immediately evoked images which seemed to belong to a whole different lifetime, but Rosalie knew that could not be so. They were her own memories, the same ones she had buried deep inside her subconscious the moment that vicious man lied to her about her parents giving her up. She was but a mere child who had no idea why she had been taken from her loving home and brought to an orphanage.
Children tended to be gullible. Naïve. The word of a trusty adult was the word of God himself. Rosalie remembered shivering at the orphanage, until Mr. Goosevelt explained the situation, in fact lied about it, and she simply nodded. She accepted that lie as the truth, and it had made all the difference.
Her heart cried for all those lost years, for all those memories that would never take place, for all those moments they would never share, because they were lost forever.
“Oh, my sweet child!” Mrs. White sobbed, her fingers digging into Rosalie’s skin, probably completely unaware of her own strength.
Rosalie didn’t mind. Her own hands hugged with the same fervor; the same long-lost love that had been found once again. Then, Mrs. White opened her hug for another person to join in, and Mr. White approached them, his hat trembling in his hands. But, once he got closer, all his hesitation dispersed. His heart, just like that of his wife, recognized his daughter in this beautiful grown-up face. Together, the three of them stood, embracing.
Edmund smiled, as he walked over to his own mother, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She smiled back. The bonds of love and forgiveness had extended from one family and into the other. Rosalie knew that, no matter what happened from that moment on, they would all be interconnected, forever more, their hearts joined in a holy union with one another.
At that moment, the girls barged into the room without knocking, completely oblivious to the wondrous event that was taking place in the parlor. Seeing Rosalie embraced with those two people, the girls immediately turned quiet and almost solemn. Rosalie lifted her gaze, and her beaming face assured them that everything was once again well with the world.
Mrs. White cupped Rosalie’s cheek, lifting Rosalie’s sweet face closer to her own, as if she couldn’t get enough of seeing her. The woman’s piercing blue eyes were filled with tears, and now they were allowed to stream freely down her face.
“You were our very own Fiona,” Mrs. White smiled, her voice a strange mixture of pain and exuberance. “It means white in Scottish.”
She turned to her husband then, who took her by the hand. It was clear to everyone that, despite the great tragedy that had befallen them, Mr. and Mrs. White subsequently found solace in each other, and still cared deeply about each other. Rosalie guessed that, without this love, they probably wouldn’t have survived the loss of a child.
“When you were born, you were as bright as the morning star,” Mrs. White continued, gushing. “You were shining in my arms. We had never seen anything so beautiful in our life. Your father wanted to name you Fiona.”
“Fiona…” Rosalie repeated, whispering, her heart recognizing the name.
“We know that isn’t your name anymore,” Mrs. White continued. “They gave you a new name. That doesn’t matter. A name changes nothing. You are still our morning star. You are still the child we so dearly waited for and welcomed into this world. You are still the child that was taken away from us, stolen from us.”
At those words, she burst into a bout of tears, unable to sustain the avalanche of emotions that had overtaken her. Mr. White wrapped his arms around her, as he had probably done many a time in the span of the last fifteen years. After a moment, the overwhelmed woman managed to regain her senses.
“We were supposed to take care of you, to keep you safe, and we didn’t. Can you ever forgive us?” Mrs. White’s teary voice pleaded.
Rosalie knew she had nothing to forgive. In fact, she felt utterly blessed for finding them again, for having Edmund by her side, who was obviously responsible for bringing them here.
“Nothing would make me happier than having you back in my life,” Rosalie cried out, and they hugged once more. “I still think this is a dream, it all seems too incredible to believe.” Then, she addressed Edmund. “How did you know who my parents were?”
“I asked Loveless,” Edmund admitted.
Rosalie remembered him grabbing Loveless by the collar and shaking him. She honestly believed Edmund would make Loveless meet his maker. She feared that most of all, but instead, Loveless whispered something to him. And now she knew what it was.
“I threatened to make the rest of his life a living Hell,” Edmund explained. “I’m certain it will be as it is now, but I was bound on making it even worse. You and your friends all feared him, but that man is a coward. An immoral beast feasting off the lives of those he deemed less fortunate than himself. If you ask me, he is fortunate that he will be living the rest of his life in prison.”
