Rose's Rush Hour.

Chapter Ten.

I wanted to rest a bit before heading home, so I sat at the table on the patio, upon which I had placed the basket of strawberries.

“It’s a wonderful flat,” Callum expressed, taking up the seat beside me. “I bet you take good care of it.”

I gazed at the basket as nostalgia washed over me. “My father took the best care of it,” I said softly. “Did you ever meet him?”

“I remember coming across him maybe once or twice. I have vague memories.”

“Mine are as clear as day.” I smiled when my father’s face flashed in my mind. “He loved this place like it was his child, did his work dutifully and happily. He was always looking for ways to make it more comfortable for the tenants, welcomed every complaint with an easy going air and handled it in the shortest time possible.

“A lot of people didn’t want to settle here at first, saying they would never step where a black man had put his foot. Yet those hateful comments and reluctance didn’t deter my father. He kept trying to bring in tenants in the nicest way he could – with a warm smile. He always told me that we had to be hospitable and welcoming to whoever approached us, even if they didn’t do the same for us.”

My heart hurt, remembering the amicable, kind image of my old man.

“They didn’t treat him well, and yet he offered them food and shelter. To him, this place wasn’t just a source of income. He believed it would be a bridge; a place where diverse people could unite in peace, and he did achieve that to an extent.”

Callum didn’t interrupt me, and let me speak out my feelings.

“He told me to follow in his footsteps and not to forget his dream but...” My lip quivered and I swallowed down a lump in my throat. I hadn’t expected to get emotional talking about him, but I couldn’t stop. “I’m not like my father. I...I tried to be but I couldn’t. I can’t smile at people who make those comments. The only thing I can do is snap at them, and I don’t even care if they don’t come to LightHouse.”

My eyes stung with tears and I looked up to prevent them falling. I didn’t want to cry in front of him.

“And I can’t help but feel like...” I sniffled. “Like I’ve let him down somehow because I’m such a misfit.”

I twiddled my fingers and drew out a shaky breath. It was getting really hard not to cry.

My hands then warmed up as I felt Callum’s hands cover and hold them.

“I don’t think you’re a misfit, Rose,” I heard him say. “You once told me that every single person is different in nature. The way you care for LightHouse might not be the same as your father’s, but it doesn’t mean you abandoned his dream. You speaking out against prejudice is your way, just like how unyielding hospitality was his way. And I bet he’s proud of who you’ve become.”

I looked at him through blurry eyes. “You believe so?” My voice broke as I asked.

He gave me a reassuring smile. “I’m positive – take it from Cautious and Careful Callum. You are stubborn as you’re amazing.”

A short breath of a laugh escaped my lips and I rested my head on his shoulder. He brought one hand around me as the other stayed in my hands.

I sniffled and he gently rubbed up and down my arm. It was comforting; his words, warmth and slight embrace. I felt my heart lift from the dampness it’d been in, and I accepted that my father would be proud of me. It was hard not to, since I knew how much he’d loved me.

We sat there in comfortable silence as Callum let me take all the time I needed to recuperate. After a while I said, “I think it’s about time we took Mrs. Plumberry’s strawberries to her. Poor woman must be restless.”