Prologue: Violet's Beginning

And Rosalie's Ending

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Rosalie Bennett still couldn’t believe she was holding this precious baby and got to call her hers. Her little face relaxed in sleep, with twitchy, dreamy smiles. Rosalie lifted her frail, bony hand and stroked the babe’s head and cheek as a tear fell from her own face and splattered on the child’s face. 

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered. “Almost… unearthly beautiful.”

Her womb had been empty for six years, without the slightest sign of life… then this darling came into their life. 

Just as Rosalie was leaving it. 

She glanced up at the clock. It sung of 11:00 pm. She knew her husband or Matilda, her lady maid, would be in soon to put her to bed. 

No, not her husband. He would be gone—yet again. 

She rocked gently in the wooden rocker, her feet groaning from the work of pressing against the floorboards.

“Listen, my dearest Violet,” she cooed. The baby had come just a month prior, but the name still felt so foreign on Rosalie’s lips. “The world is full of decisions to make, some harder than others. You’ll be faced over and over again with decisions of right and wrong, and at times those lines between them will appear blurred with fog on a cool morning.” 

She closed her eyes. The pain in her stomach intensified, but she clutched the child closer. “But always seek the truth, my love. Fight for the truth, even if it breaks your heart. Because truth is the only way to real beauty and goodness. The lies may tempt you with their own version of beauty and goodness, but they are always fleeting.”

The baby’s face scrunched for a moment, then relaxed again. Rosalie felt new tears prick her eyes.

The door slowly creaked open. She kept her eyes on the baby.

“I know you wish to hold the baby all the time,” Matilda’s soft voice whispered. “But the doctor said you need your rest. I fear I have already allowed you too much strain.”

Rosalie nodded. “Thank you, Matilda.”

She crept over beside the rocker. “Here, I’ll lay the child down for you, then I’ll help you to your bedroom.”

Rosalie couldn’t lift her arms, so Matilda reached down and plucked the child from her lap. Rosalie watched Matilda lay the baby girl as softly as she could in the frilly bassinet, as the arms of her own heart reached from her chest to clasp the child once more. But she was worn out. It would now be quite a feat to make it to her bedroom, even with Matilda’s help.

“Come now, my lady,” she whispered, reaching her arm around Rosalie’s waist.

As Matilda took most of Rosalie’s weight like a crutch, she helped the mother hobble out of the bedroom. Rosalie stole one final glance over her shoulder—despite the pain it caused her—to gaze at the peaceful babe.

It would be her last time gazing upon that beautiful face.