Briar Rose

by Caroline Lee

  “Like Juliet?”

  “Exactly!” Doc clapped her hands once. “It’s a ridiculous play, of course, but yes! Shakespeare’s Juliet took a similar potion. Although now, of course, modern medicine knows that the potion was not really—”

  “And you’re planning on giving me one of these? And Gordon will have the antidote, I suppose?”

  This time Doc’s smile was proud. “I knew you were a quick thinker, dear. Yes. The plan is for you to fall into a deep sleep, and for Gordon to have the antidote. We’ll put it around that only a man fit to marry you will be the one who is able to wake you. Doctor Carpenter owes us for some help we gave him years ago when he was courting his wife, and I’m sure he’ll help. So Gordon arrives, wakes you, and poof! You two are married and live Happily Ever After.”

  Briar was amazed that she wasn’t upset about this ridiculous scheme. In fact, she was interested, and a tiny part of her was standing back waving its arms and yelling “Wait, wait, this is foolishness!” But a larger part of her—and she was honest enough to admit that there was a lot of her to go around—wanted this to happen. She liked the fairy-tale quality of the sleeping heroine and the heroic prince. “And you’ll be the one administering me this medicine?”

  “Of course, dear. I’m your godmother.”

  “And exactly what kind of ‘doctor’ are you?”

  Doc bristled. “A real one, I assure you.”

  “A doctor of medicine?”

  “A real doctor, young lady.” Doc was glaring over her spectacles.

  “With a medical degree?”

  “I’ve been to school.”

  The older woman was avoiding the answer, but again, that bothered Briar less than she’d expected it to. If Doc was her godmother, then she trusted the woman, simple as that. What an odd realization. “And what does the rosebush have to do with this?”

  “Well…” This time, Doc shrugged a little sheepishly. “All heroes have to battle something to get to the heroine, don’t they?”

  “A rosebush,” Briar said flatly.

  “It’s a special rosebush.” No doubt. “Grows very quickly. A mutated Rubus member of the Rosa genus.”

  “And Gordon will have to battle it?”

  “Listen, it’s really not relevant to you. You’ll be asleep. But he has to prove to your family that he’s worthy of you, right? This is part of it. Narrative causality, remember.”

  Briar took a deep breath, holding it just long enough to feel herself become light-headed. She was seriously considering this? Yes. Doc was right; this scheme of hers was a way to get out of a marriage with Roy Jr., marry Gordon instead, and have her family’s blessing, which was surprisingly important to her.

  Another deep breath, and the last of her doubt exhaled as well. “What do I need to do?”

  That small part of Briar was now jumping up and down and yelling “Are you insane? Don’t let this delusional woman stick you with poison!” But the larger part was thinking about Zelle and Dmitri, and how her best friend had ended up with the fairy-tale Happily Ever After that she deserved. The one that Briar also deserved. She’d marry Gordon, they’d open a restaurant together, and they’d make it the finest in the state.

  “I need you to pretend to spin.”

  “In a circle?”

  Doc snorted. “See, this is why I said ‘pretend’. I meant, spin as in use the spinning wheel.”

  And spinning would get her a Happily Ever After? “Why?”

  “Well, because the medicine is on the tip of the spindle. It’s rather sharp, which is, frankly, an idiotic design. Who thought that sharpening a spindle would be a good idea?”

  “You want me to jab myself with a poisoned spindle?”

  “Look, I needed a gift that your family would approve of, that would allow you to self-administer the medicine, and I couldn’t very well give you a sword. That’s part of it—I can’t give it to you, it would violate Guild Law. You have to agree and take the next step to your own happiness.”

  “But, I mean, how about a syringe? Wouldn’t that make more sense?”

  Doc pulled off her spectacles then, and rubbed the glass against the cotton of her shirt. She looked very much like someone who was avoiding the question. “Possibly, possibly… if I had a syringe.”

  “What kind of doctor doesn’t have a syringe?”

  “One who faints at the sight of blood, okay?” The older woman frowned mightily in Briar’s direction, but without the spectacles she obviously wasn’t sure exactly where to glare. “That’s why I’m a godmother and not a surgeon!”

  It was hard not to snicker, but Briar managed it. Instead, she swallowed down her smile, and said in a voice that might have sounded a bit like she was choking, “Right, okay. So I pretend to use the spinning wheel, and I stab myself with the inappropriately sharp spindle, and then?”

  Doc shoved her glasses back on her nose, and seemed glad for the change in subject. “And then you fall asleep. A deep sleep.”

  “Immediately?”

  “I hope not. I don’t want to have to lug you over to the bed.”

  “Oh, ha.” Doc’s lips twitched, as did Briar’s. “So the poison—”

  “Medicine.”

  “—Medicine gets into my blood, I go lie down on the bed, and…? And then what?”

  “And then you close your eyes, drifting peacefully off to sleep. The next thing that happens, as far as you’re concerned, is that you open your eyes to see Gordon, your True Love, who has just awoken you and proved himself to be the Hero your family needed, and thus worthy of becoming your husband.”

  It sounded…nice. Totally believable. It was easy to ignore that teensy-weensy part of her that was now sitting in the corner and moaning over this decision, because the rest of her wanted so badly for Doc’s story to be true.

  “And that will happen? I’m not going to just…sleep? Sleep forever?”

  Doc crossed the room to Briar, and took the younger woman’s hand in hers. “Briar Rose Jorgensen, I give you my word as your godmother. You will wake up engaged to Gordon, and have your Happily Ever After. You just need to be the one to take this step.”

  It was impossible not to believe the older woman. Briar had seen how Zelle’s godmother arranged for her Happily Ever After, and knew that while unconventional, she could trust Doc. “But how do you know?” she whispered.

  “Because, dear.” Doc squeezed her hand. “Narrative causality.”

  That brought a smile to Briar’s lips. Of course. She took a few breaths, and noticed that Doc was watching intently, joining her. Each time they exhaled together, Briar felt a little calmer. Finally she nodded.

  She was going to grasp her future in her hand, and trust her godmother to make it happen. True love was worth it.

  “I can do this.”

  Reaching out, she lowered her free hand toward the needle-thin barb at the end of the spindle. She met Doc’s eyes behind the spectacles, and didn’t even flinch when she wrapped her fingers around the wooden spike.

  She could do this. For Gordon.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  She was dead. She wasn’t dead, but she was gravely ill. She’d eaten something at the Wedding Tea yesterday, and was now at death’s door. She was fine, just decided to stay home with her family today to prepare for the wedding of the year. She’d locked herself in her room and her family was desperate to get her to come out. She’d ran away.

  Gordon hadn’t slept much during the last days, but he’d dragged himself to church anyhow, in the hope that a little of the Good Word and seeing Max and Skip afterwards would cheer him up. But all thoughts of being sociable flew right out of his head the minute he heard the rumors circulating about why Briar and the rest of the Jorgenson clan wasn’t attending services that day.

  Sure enough, a panicky Gordon didn’t see any of them. Also missing were the Doctors Carpenter, which was almost as ominous. He knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything Pastor Tuck had to say that morning, so Gordon took
off for the Jorgenson farm, not even stopping to return Skip’s wave.

  The place was silent when he got there, but the Carpenters’ wagon was out front, the horse staying far from the huge rosebushes that definitely weren’t there just a few days ago. Gordon slowed to a jog, his breath fogging the chilly morning air, and wondered where in the world they’d come from. The plants stood half again as tall as he did, seemed to reach toward each other across the porch, and were filled with roses ranging from the deepest reds to the purest whites. He didn’t know much about plants, but thought it was unusual to see so many colors on one bush.

  Still, the rosebush’s strangeness didn’t stop him from pushing past its grasping briars and climbing the stairs to knock on the front door. Only silence from the other side greeted him. He’d been here twice last week asking after Briar, and both times the house had been a hive of activity in preparing for the cursed wedding. Today, though, it was eerie and still; no sound, no movement. Like someone had died.

  The thought made him pound harder on the door, determined to discover the truth. Was Briar ill? Did her absence have something to do with the wedding? The DeVilles had been at church this morning, but hadn’t seemed too concerned, so maybe Gordon was overreacting.

  But no one answered his knocking, and all of the curtains were drawn in the front parlor, so Gordon couldn’t see in. If no one was at home—which is how it seemed—then it was pointless to keep trying to get in. But if someone was at home, and they were ignoring his knock, then that meant the situation was as serious as he feared…

  He settled down on the ground beside the front steps, in the shade of the ridiculous rosebush, determined to wait. Not caring that he was dirtying his trousers, he pulled his knees up and rested his elbows on them, running his hands through his hair. He’d made an effort to look presentable today, because he’d hoped to see her at church. But now, something as trivial as his appearance didn’t matter; not when she could be inside right now, hurt or ill or…or…

  It was impossible to think that, so Gordon swallowed down his fear and tried praying instead. It didn’t help him much, but it felt good to be actually doing something, instead of just worrying. He prayed that she would be healthy, even if it meant she had to marry Roy Jr. He prayed that someone would come outside soon, and let him know. He prayed that somehow, he’d be able to convince her family to let him court her, so that they could have a future together here in Everland. But mainly, he prayed for her.

  Please God, keep her safe.

  Maybe it was a result of his prayers, or maybe just the interminable wait, but he found himself studying the rosebush. Or, more specifically, the roses. Not only were they every different color, but they were larger than any he could recall. The thick, velvety petals looked as soft as the memory of Briar’s lip under his thumb, and Gordon reached out to test one.

  With a start, he jerked his hand back. One of the briars had seemed somehow to twist, so that he’d ended up with a thorn in the pad of his thumb. With a hiss, he stuck the wounded digit in his mouth, sucking on the wound. The roses were still just as beautiful, but now he saw them in a different light.

  He’d once teased Briar about her name, when she was anything but thorny. But he’d been forgetting her entire name: Briar Rose. These briar roses were beautiful and touchable, and completely surrounded by sharp thorns. Somehow his Love had grown up surrounded by people who didn’t understand her, and who fought to turn her into something she wasn’t. They were her thorns, and she was the soft briar rose, which thrived despite the hardships.

  More than anything in the world, he wanted to give her a life away from such sharpness. A life where she knew she was understood and valued and loved.

  Please God, keep her safe.

  After what seemed like an eternity, people began arriving from town. Church had probably let out, and those neighbors with more patience than Gordon had waited until after the services. They came on foot and in wagons, carrying food and well-wishes and enough curiosity to sink a ship. Gordon saw friends and people he knew, but couldn’t make himself smile and share in the small-talk. Not without knowing how Briar was.

  It was almost noon when Roy DeVille and his oldest son showed up in their fine buggy, pushing aside the crowd to be able to ride right up to the porch and tie off their horse. Their arrogance wasn’t unexpected—they were the richest family around—but Gordon still stewed to see them treat their neighbors that way. As he craned his head to watch father and son climb out, he noticed that—against all sense—the rosebushes appeared even larger than they’d been when he’d arrived that morning.

  Max rode up a minute later on one of his prized thoroughbreds and greeted the crowd much more politely than his father and brother. Gordon heaved himself to his feet, figuring that if anyone could distract him from his frantic worries, Max could.

  As he pushed his way through the small crowd, he heard more murmurs and speculation, and each whispered piece of gossip caused his gut to tighten further.

  Please God, keep her safe.

  “Any news?” Max asked as Gordon joined him in the rear of the group.

  Gordon shook his head. “No one’s answerin’ the door, either. But with Doc Carpenter’s wagon out front, I’m worried.” That was an understatement.

  “Well, I’m worried because she’s about to become my sister-in-law, although I’ve never heard my brother say anything more about her than he likes her cookies…but what I don’t understand is what’s got you looking like you had to shoot your best horse?”

  Gordon stared bleakly at his friend, not understanding. Max chuckled. “I mean, you look like your biscuits burned, or some other kind of cooking metaphor. I dunno, Gordy! You just look…miserable.”

  That’s because he was miserable. But if Max hadn’t realized his feelings for Briar, Gordon couldn’t very well tell him. She was about to become Max’s brother’s wife, after all, and although Gordon knew there was no love lost between the DeVille brothers, he wouldn’t ask his friend to divide his loyalties. So he just shrugged, and turned back toward the front porch. “I don’t want anythin’ bad t’ happen t’ her.”

  Max made a speculative noise, then, but Gordon was saved from having to explain when the Jorgensons’ front door opened. The entire family—minus Briar—trooped heavily onto the front porch. Briar’s mother and grandmother were weeping quietly into handkerchiefs, their arms wrapped around each other, and her brothers looked various stages of ill. Their father’s jaw was set and his eyes sad, but he kept his chin up as he held the door for the last two people through, the Carpenters.

  Gordon heart climbed up his throat, and he—along with the rest of the muttering crowd—pushed forward when Jack Carpenter stepped up to the railing. He held up his hand, and the Everland citizens quieted down.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I bring sad news. It seems that Briar Jorgenson, beloved by all, has—” The doctor bit off his sentence to glare at his wife, and Gordon growled in frustration. Briar has what? He was ready to climb up there and shake Jack until he told them all exactly what was wrong with her.

  But he didn’t have to, because Jack’s wife Meri gave him a little nudge, and a knowing grin, and the doctor turned back to the crowd. “Briar is sick. She’s alive, but her illness…is…unusual.” He shot another glare at his wife, who stepped up to the railing and elbowed Jack aside.

  Gordon thought that the woman looked unaccountably cheerful when she took over. “It’s a rare illness, to be sure, but after careful study, Jack and I have identified the cause. Briar is wasting away because…” She pinned her stare on both Roy DeVilles who stood in front of the crowd. Everyone knew she detested the younger man since he’d put her daughter’s life in danger over the summer. “Because she’s to be married to the wrong man.”

  Gordon exhaled, at the same moment the crowd burst into confused murmurings and questions. This time it was Meri who held up her hands for silence. “I know that it must sound silly to you,” she said, while behind her Ja
ck rolled his eyes. “But it’s not unheard of; a woman wasting away for lack of love, or being forced to marry a man she doesn’t love.”

  “Yeah,” said Max, a little louder than necessary. “Happens all the time in stories.” The crowd began to nod and whisper to one another, and Gordon turned just enough to catch Max’s wink. Apparently Gordon had an ally in his quest to keep Briar and Roy Jr. apart.

  However, the interruption seemed to cause Briar’s family some consternation. Her mother and grandmother clutched each other harder and began to sniffle louder.

  And right up by the rosebushes, Roy Jr. began to bluster. “Why, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Stories?” He shot a threatening look back at his younger brother. “Why in tarnation would she be wasting away? You told me she wants to marry me! I’m the richest bachelor in town!”

  The Jorgenson women began to weep harder, and Meri Carpenter shot an anxious glance at her husband. Gordon, unable to stop himself, took a step forward and called out, “What can be done?”

  Please God, keep her safe. Let there be an answer.

  Briar’s father’s head whipped around to pierce him with a stare, and Gordon boldly met it. The man knew that Gordon was interested in his daughter, and now maybe he’d understand the depth of that interest. Gordon would do anything he could to make sure that Briar was healthy and happy.

  Jack moved beside his wife once more. “In our expert medical opinion,” he coughed once, “My wife and I think that this unusual ailment calls for an unusual treatment. The only way to wake Briar is…” He cleared his throat. “Is…” Gordon saw him deflate slightly, and then turn to his wife. “I can’t do it, Meri.”

  “Fine.” The female doctor’s smile was brittle. “What my husband is trying to say is that the only way to cure Briar is a kiss from her True Love.”