The Branded Rose Prophecy

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Darwin was fast. He got it almost straight away and he seemed to slump. “Then there is danger. Around you, because of you.” His voice sounded far away.

  Asher shook his head. “Not because of me. Because of what I am.” Nausea washed through him and cold sweat broke out all over. This was incredibly close to breaking laun. It was flirting with overwhelming danger. “If you ask, if you try to dig up stuff,” (the truth, dammit), “then the wrong people will learn of what you’re doing.”

  Darwin swallowed. He looked completely unnerved. Asher wanted to take that look away, but he couldn’t.

  * * * * *

  Standing in front of the impressive black oak and brass door, waiting for his buzz to be answered, Darwin brushed down his jacket nervously and looked around at Fifth Avenue. Even though he worked in the general area, the lifestyles of the residents here existed upon a different plane that ol’ Darwin Baxter would never be able to reach.

  The girl who answered the door looked like she was barely eighteen, but she was stunning in a dewy rosebud way. Darwin cleared his throat. “I’m looking for Ylva…um…Peterson.” At the last second, he recalled the surname.

  “Is she expecting you?” the girl asked.

  “Uh, no. Can you see if she would speak to me for a few minutes? It’s very important. Tell her we’ve met before, several years ago.”

  The girl gave him a polite smile. “And your name?”

  He told her.

  She shut the door on him and Darwin was back to being nervous again. Why hadn’t he worn a tie?

  When the door opened again, Darwin fully expected the girl would either tell him to go away, or he might be escorted into the interior of the mansion to speak to Ylva for the few short minutes he had requested.

  Ylva herself stood there, in classically stylish pants and a crewneck sweater in some material that seemed to glow softly, like her hair, which was longer than he remembered.

  She smiled at him. “Darwin, this is a surprise.”

  Completely floored, Darwin just stared at her. He had forgotten the power of her voice. The low contralto. How it curled around you….

  Ylva’s smile faded. “Is something wrong with Charlee?” she asked.

  “Yes. I mean, no, there’s nothing wrong with her. Charlee is fine.” He grimaced. “I think she’s fine. That’s why I’m here. Asher gave me your address.” He pulled in a calming breath. “I need a woman’s perspective,” he said frankly.

  “Oh.” She pressed her lips together briefly, like she was trying to prevent a smile. “There are not dozens of women in your life that you could have consulted, instead of schlepping all the way down here to see me?”

  He wouldn’t have called visiting a house on Fifth Avenue schlepping, not in his wildest dreams. He shrugged self-consciously. “Every woman I know has that blue-rinse hair thing going on or wears support hose. One of ‘em told me to make Charlee drink boiled prune juice every night because that would fix her right up.” He shook his head. “I need a sophisticated woman. You’re the only one I know.”

  Ylva smiled, her smile making her eyes dance. “Well, thank you. You’d better come in.” She stepped aside, and Darwin glanced up at the winding stone staircase and the cage thing that was in the middle. Then he saw there was an honest to goodness crow sitting on the stand in the middle, pecking at a tray of seeds. It was a birdcage. But…crows? He blinked and followed Ylva upstairs, his gaze shifting back to the crow with every couple of steps. The crow considered him right back, its head tilting to follow his movements.

  They moved into a room at the top of the stairs, one filled with antiques that Darwin just knew hadn’t been picked up at the local op shop. The impression in the room was one of graceful, aged comfort and a preference for fine things, which were revered for their function as much as for their beauty. It wasn’t an overwhelming room, but Darwin still felt like he’d stepped into that other plane that he had thought about while waiting for the door to be answered.

  Ylva sat down on a striped sofa that looked like something he’d seen in illustrations of life in the French court in the seventeenth century. Then she surprised him by easing off her high heels and tucking her feet up on the cushion next to her. She grinned at his expression. “I prefer to be comfortable in my own home,” she said. “Please, sit down. I asked for coffee to be brought and it should be here very shortly.”

  He sat in the armchair next to the sofa. It didn’t match the sofa, but it was wonderfully comfortable and soft.

  “You’re well, Darwin?” she asked.

  “Very well, thanks,” Darwin said truthfully. “I don’t know if Asher told you or not, but Charlee moved in with me after her father died last year. I gotta tell you, having someone else, especially a young someone else, around the place really makes a difference.”

  “I know exactly what you mean,” Ylva said. “I have several young people kicking about this place at any one time. I find it invigorating.”

  “Exactly. Invigorating,” Darwin said. He fidgeted, pulling the edges of his collar together (should have worn a tie) and tapping on the arm of the chair, until he realized what he was doing and dropped his hand back to his knee. Ylva was the sort of woman who wouldn’t settle down to business until the pleasantries were done and coffee was served.

  “Perhaps you’d better tell me what’s on your mind. You look like a man on the horns of a dilemma.” She smiled to take away any insult in the observation.

  He jumped a bit. “Being here isn’t helping,” he confessed.

  “You don’t like my home?” she asked, sounding curious rather than affronted.

  “I love it,” he said quickly. “But Charlee doesn’t know I’m here. She doesn’t know I’m up against a wall on this one and talking to other people about her. She’d be mad as hell if she knew, but she doesn’t like to talk things out like most women do. She keeps things very close.”

  Ylva nodded. “I do remember that about her. What is the problem, Darwin? What do you think is the problem?”

  “I just don’t know,” he said flatly.

  Ylva didn’t laugh. She didn’t smile, either, and he felt relief. There, he’d betrayed his ignorance and the world hadn’t collapsed around him. Now maybe he could fix this.

  The door to the room opened—lounge room? Parlor? Private retreat? It was hard to tell because there wasn’t a dining table, or a sideboard or even a television, nothing to say what the room’s function was supposed to be. The young girl who had first answered the door came in, kicking the door shut behind her. She was carrying a huge tray loaded with cups and a coffee pot, and a basket with cookies in it, napkins and other serving items. She carried it like it weighed nothing but before Darwin could get up to help, Ylva jumped up and pulled a small side table over between her sofa and Darwin’s knees.

  Then the girl left and Ylva poured coffee. “Would you like a raisin oatmeal cookie?” she asked, and looked at him from under her brow as she poured. “I believe they’re your favorite.”

  Charlee.

  Darwin mentally sighed, accepted the cup Ylva handed him and took two cookies. He’d been outed, so why not? The coffee was delicious in a way he couldn’t get a handle on and he decided it was more of the same; a preference for quality and care taken with the making of it, which turned out coffee like this instead of the swill the deli on the corner made and left on the hotplate for hours on end.

  Ylva settled back on her sofa with a graceful swing of hips and limbs that culminated in her being seated with her feet back on the cushions. Not a drop of coffee spilled as she did it. Darwin marveled at her flexibility. He would have dumped the entire cup and the cookies if he’d tried something as athletic as that.

  She sipped and put the cup and saucer down on the tray in front of her. “Forgive me for prying, Darwin, but you are a parent of your own children, aren’t you?”

  “Two boys, ma’am. Long gone.”

  “They live in other cities?”

  “They both went to
Vietnam.” He grimaced. “They didn’t come back.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to stir up sad memories.”

  He shook his head. “It was a long time ago. World’s a different place now. But maybe knowing that will help you understand. I didn’t get to raise a girl. Just boys, and they’re different from girls as night is from day. And Charlee…well, she’s not properly a girl anymore, either. But something is eating her, and I can’t for the life of me figure out what. It’s like when that mutt of hers was killed, years ago. She just went inside herself. Only this time, she’s not hiding out in her room, which makes it next to impossible to figure out. She’s polite. She even smiles. But her eyes are blank, like she’s going through the motions.”

  “She’s trying not to worry you,” Ylva said.

  Darwin blinked. “I hadn’t thought of that. I thought she was trying to hide it, so no one would know anything was wrong.”

  “She is trying to hide it, from the people she cares about and doesn’t want to worry.”

  Darwin pointed at her. “See? I knew you were the right one to ask. Prune juice….” He screwed up his nose.

  Ylva laughed and sat forward, her hands clasped together in a way that made the most of her long, elegant fingers. “What has happened in her life lately? When did you notice her change?”

  Darwin went through the last couple of weeks slowly, thinking it through carefully and itemizing anything unusual or different for Ylva to consider. There wasn’t much. Both he and Charlee were very set in their quiet little routine. Breakfast, then work for him and school for her, then home for supper, and after the dishes they both settled at the table, him to read and her to do homework, until they were ready to fall into bed. On Saturdays, it had started out with Charlee helping him clean the house, but now, it was Charlee who cleaned and he got on with taking care of things that had been neglected for years because of lack of time, like digging new flower beds, and cleaning gutters, fixing siding and more. The weekends were down time when they both pottered around the house.

  It was a comfortable life that he wouldn’t admit to anyone was much better than the life he’d led alone. Alone didn’t look so hot now. Charlee suited him down to the ground, and he was beginning to hate the swiftly coming time when she would move out and take up her own life.

  “But doesn’t she go out with friends? Dates?” Ylva asked curiously. “She is nearly eighteen. She should be rebelling and climbing out her bedroom window to go drinking and dancing, like any modern teenager should.”

  “Her exams are close,” Darwin said weakly, for this had bothered him, too. Charlee just didn’t seem to be like other teenagers in that regard. His own boys had been hell on wheels at times. If only they had studied enough to earn a scholarship for college, they’d still be alive now and raising their own kids, because the war had ended only weeks after they had died. But that was wishing for a different life, and this was the one he had and Charlee needed him. “She’s determined to go to college in September.”

  “Has she had any offers?” Ylva asked. “It’s April and I know they start selecting even this early.”

  “I think she could take her pick,” Darwin said slowly. “Even Harvard would welcome her if only she was a paying customer.”

  Ylva’s face shadowed. “Oh. Oh, dear, that is unfortunate. Even with all her talent, there are no scholarships for her?”

  “She’s applied for them all. Every single one she learns about. It’s almost a full-time preoccupation right now. She hasn’t heard back from any of them.” He sighed. “But that’s not it, because she talks to me about that.” Charlee’s withering comments about the ridiculous amount of red tape involved in grant and funding applications had privately delighted him. She had a very adult perspective on the process. “Well, she talked to me about it before. But she hasn’t talked to me much about anything for a bit.”

  They reconsidered everything once again, but this time even Ylva was puzzled. “I just can’t see it,” she said. “Short of sitting Charlee down and asking her point blank, I don’t think we’re going to be able to figure it out. Besides, it might be more respectful to Charlee to simply ask her, don’t you think?”

  Darwin sighed. “It probably would, but….” He didn’t know what came next. He just knew that asking her would be something unpleasant. Deep reluctance seized him every time he considered this very sensible solution.

  “You don’t want her to know you’re not omnipotent, do you?” Ylva asked.

  Somewhere in the house, beyond the door, Darwin heard a phone ring softly. After a few rings, the sound stopped.

  Darwin glanced at Ylva to see if she was laughing at him, but she wasn’t. He could feel his cheeks heating anyway. “Damn it, I’m supposed to be taking care of her. And I can’t figure out this little thing? It’s embarrassing.”

  Ylva gave him a sympathetic smile. “As you said, you didn’t get to raise any girls. Now you’ve got a full grown woman on your hands. I suspect it would be a tough adjustment for anyone to make.”

  A knock sounded on the door and the sweet little rosebud stepped into the room. She handed Ylva a folded piece of paper, which Ylva unfolded and read, then handed back. “Not now,” she said gently.

  The girl traipsed back out and shut the door.

  “The phone…” Darwin said slowly, straining to recall whatever it was that suddenly felt significant. Then he had it. “I don’t know if this has got anything to do with it. It’s such a stupid thing.”

  Ylva folded her hands again and looked at him with polite curiosity.

  “About, yes, about the right time, too, I think. Charlee’s friend Elizabeth phoned. When she came back to the kitchen table, she was kinda quiet.”

  “Then it was something that Elizabeth said?” Ylva asked.

  “But Charlee told me what they talked about. Elizabeth was over the moon because some boy at school had finally asked her to the prom.”

  Ylva grew very still. Her eyes seemed to focus on nothing. Then they shifted back to him. “What did you say when she told you that?” She said it in a pent-up way that made Darwin nervous.

  “I don’t remember. Something about….” He frowned, trying to pull back the memory. “But she wasn’t upset!” he protested. “She was so happy for her friend. And I said…” He shrugged. “I don’t really remember. I joked about it.”

  Ylva’s eyes seemed to be staring through him. “Can you remember what you joked about?” she asked.

  Scared now, knowing that this was somehow his fault, but unable to grasp what it could possibly be, he pummelled his memory, backtracking through the evening: the phone call, Charlee settling back down at the table and picking up her pen. His casual inquiry about the call, which had left a smile lingering on her face. Her grin as she told him Elizabeth was beside herself because Tommy Hancock had asked her to go to the prom with him and she had been holding back on a dozen other requests, just waiting for him to call and he had…and Darwin had said….he’d said to Charlee…

  “And who’s the lucky guy that gets to take you to the prom?” Darwin repeated the words, imitating the same teasing tone he’d used that night, but wretched sickness was pumping through him now.

  Ylva looked horrified.

  “But she laughed!” Darwin said. “She even said something about wouldn’t I like to know.”

  “Of course she would joke with you,” Ylva said, very gently. “Charlee wouldn’t have wanted you to know that your joke had hurt her.”

  “Hurt her?” Now he was flat out horrified. “I figured she’d like the idea of guys drooling after her. Don’t all girls want that?”

  Ylva reached out and rested her hand over his. It was a soothing gesture. She was offering comfort. “Charlee isn’t like other girls. We’ve both agreed on that.”

  “But, she’s beautiful!” Darwin said, honestly bewildered.

  Ylva gave him the same sympathetic smile. “Charlee doesn’t think she is, and for that reas
on she won’t be asked to the prom.”

  Darwin could feel his jaw dropping. “Won’t be asked? But that’s…it’s friggin’ ridiculous, excuse my French. Any boy, any man with an inch of taste would trip over themselves to ask her out.” He drew in a breath. “What is it I don’t get?”

  Ylva folded her hands together once more. “She has a scar on her face.”

  “But that’s…but it’s just a scar!” Anger was starting to stir in him. “You mean, they, the kids at school, they’re, what, teasing her about it?” The anger was building swiftly. He suddenly wanted to flay the hides of some of those snot-nosed boys he saw walking home from school each day. If they had been doing this to his Charlee….

  Ylva waited until he was paying full attention again. “I’m sure the teasing has diminished after all these years, but Charlee is an ace student, I believe, yes?”

  Darwin nodded.

  Ylva held up a finger. “She’s smart.” She touched the next finger as she raised it. “Her father died.” Another finger. “She lives with an elderly man who used to be her neighbor.” Another finger. “She got a scar from a gang fight.” The thumb this time. “She has never had a lot of money to spend on the latest fashions and accessories, so the pretty, popular girls wearing Prada and Guess would look down on her for that.”

  Ylva lifted her other hand and held up her thumb. “She has extraordinary looks. She isn’t blonde and blue-eyed in the conventionally pretty way. She is an exotic lily among pretty daisies, and most high school boys aren’t discriminating enough to notice.”

  Darwin nodded, because that was exactly what Charlee was.

  Ylva dropped her hands. “In the years when conforming to everything is so incredibly important, when being as much like everyone around you earns social brownie points, Charlee is as different from the average senior as it is possible to be. I am quite sure that no boy would care to be seen with such an oddity, even if he privately thinks she is pretty.”

  Darwin fumed. “Damn it, I’ll take her.”