A Red Red Rose

by Susan Coryell

  I halted, shook my head, trying to clear out the hypnotic tones that crowded out all thought and plugged my senses. Once again, the music abated. It was like a game of musical chairs. Where was I? No longer in the house, I felt the damp night air on my bare arms, and rough floorboards beneath my bare feet. Holding the candle at arm’s length, I crept forward, a step at a time, my other hand grasping at the air in front. I felt like a blind person without a guide dog.

  My reaching fingers brushed across a grainy surface, and crumbling powder dusted my fingertips. Instantly, I recognized the metallic smell of rusting screens. I knew then I must be on the ancient screened porch tucked between the wings of the house, the crumbling porch with the antique rocking chairs. The ancient part of the house, reached only by the door in the keeping room. The music had led me here. Again the strains wafted over and around me, holding me captive as I stood, shivering, gazing at the dim light of my flickering candle.

  The music stopped as abruptly as it had begun. Struggling to clear the cobwebs of sound spinning in my brain, I took a deep breath and looked around. I sensed, rather than saw a movement in my periphery. When I turned, I became aware of one of the rocking chairs. Gently, so as to be barely perceptible, the chair rocked itself back and forth as though someone invisible sat in it, enjoying the languorous, rhythmic motion. Rocking, rocking, rocking, without any sound at all.

  Not conscious of moving, I found myself standing beside the ancient rocker, now motionless, dusty, the seat sagging within inches of the floor, as though it had not moved in a hundred years. I had not dreamed it. The chair had rocked itself, and someone or something had led me here to witness it. Led me with the music. I had the evidence. On the decaying cane seat lay a single fresh rose just out of the bud.

  * * * *

  My feet felt cold. How long had I stood on the moldering porch with the rose in my hand? Though it must have been well after midnight, I noticed a light burning in the office adjacent to the stables. Was someone up at this time of night? Or had the light been accidentally left on? Retracing my steps through the keeping room, I let myself out the back door to the stables. Though the storm was over, the skies were heavy and dark and the stone path stabbed at my bare feet, but I pressed on.

  Nearing my destination, I suddenly became more wary. All the talk about Night Riders and my encounter with, well, with what? A ghost in a rocking chair? What did I think I was doing running around outside in the middle of the night? Fear prickled at the nape of my neck, but I stumbled on. Arriving at the opened door of the office, I saw Luke bent over a book. My gentle tapping on the door frame caused him to jump and whirl around, standing up so swiftly that he knocked his book from the desk. It thudded to the floor.

  “It’s just me,” I whispered. “Ashby.” I don’t know why I was whispering. It seemed somehow appropriate in the depths of night.

  “You scared the… With the Night Riders on the loose! What the hell are you doin’ out here anyway,” Luke growled and shouted all at the same time. I’m sure I’d scared him, but he did his best to hide it. He leaned over to scoop the book from the floor and place it on the desk.

  “I told your uncle I’d watch out for the Night Riders.” Calming down, he shrugged. “Guess I wasn’t doin’ a very good job of it.”

  Craning my neck to see what he’d been reading, I saw that Luke had placed the book face down.

  “What’re ya lookin’ at?” His voice was testy.

  “Just wondering what you were so absorbed in.”

  “Mighty nosy.”

  “I’m a big reader. I’m always curious about what people are reading. I like historical romances myself, and gothics,” I said, realizing I was on the defensive with Luke once again and babbling like an idiot.

  “Well, y’ caught me.” Luke moved out of my way and allowed me to turn the book over. “But there’s nothin’ romantic about calculus.”

  “Calculus? You’re reading a calculus book out here in the middle of the night?”

  “You might say I’m fallin’ asleep over a calculus book.” His tone was rueful.

  “What? You have a secret yen for higher math?”

  He gave a short laugh. “The secret is that I’ve been goin’ to college th’ last three years. Community college. I had class tonight, in fact. If I can get through this calculus course, I’ll have my associate’s degree by th’ end of summer.”

  I stood there, blinking. “So, that’s where you drive off to? To college?”

  “Don’t tell anybody, okay? My Aunt Emma is th’ only one who knows. In fact, she’s th’ one who encouraged me t’ try. T’ keep at it. If Abe finds out, he’ll get all upset and worry that I’ll leave and never come back t’ work ‘our land,’ as he calls it.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “I’ve already applied t’ Virginia Tech.” He looked at me a little quizzically. “An’ I’ve been accepted. I plan t’ begin as a junior this comin’ fall semester. Pre-med. I’d like t’ get into th’ veterinary medicine program there. Maybe practice as a farm vet.”

  “Well, duh!” I smacked my forehead. “You’re a natural, Luke. I mean, you’re absolutely fantastic with horses, and you know so much about them.”

  “There’s a lot more t’ learn, b’lieve me. I’ve taken every math an’ science course offered at community college. Problem is, Tech’s too far away t’ commute, so I’d have t’ live on campus, maybe come home an’ help out on weekends. But I haven’t figgered out how t’ tell Abe, yet. He’s kinda frail. I don’t wanna upset him.”

  It was then that Luke noticed the rose in my hand. “What’s that?”

  I hesitated, trying to set the right tone. “Luke, I need to talk to Abe again. To find out more about the ghost. My grandmother had a ghost friend. Rosabelle.” I watched his jaw tighten. “I have to know. Can’t you understand?”

  He began that maddening tapping on his desk again. “Look, Abe’s got a weak heart. He’s already had one attack that almost killed him. And after y’ left our house that day we found the dead wolf dog? He spent the rest of the day lost in the past, goin’ over and over that damn scrapbook. Totally tuned out. I jes’ hate seein’ him like that.”

  “But, things have happened. Unexplainable things. I’m scared, Luke.”

  Luke exhaled loudly. “Maybe it’s only your imagination. Imaginations can run wild in a place like this. Crazy, romantic notions an’ all.”

  “Imagination? Romantic? Well, what do you say to a vase of rosebuds on my balcony thirty feet in the air and rose petals left beside a murdered wolf-dog. Then there’s a song, ‘Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes.’ It wakes me up in the middle of the night and leads me places.” I waved the rose in his face. “Why do you think I’m here now? I was led out of my room to the old porch, where I saw a rocking chair. And I do mean rocking chair. Rocking itself. That’s where I found this,” I waved the rose again. “It was just lying there in the chair.”

  “So?”

  “Is that all you can say—so?”

  “So, have y’ been hurt? Robbed? Is someone out t’ get you?”

  Tossing the rose onto his desk, I looked at him, temporarily at a loss for words. When I spoke again, I tried to be rational. “When I’m in the middle of an episode, I’m not afraid. I mean, I don’t feel any sense of danger. It’s more like being in a trance, or hypnotized, or something. I feel like I’m in savasana.”

  Luke looked blank.

  “Sorry. Savasana is the final pose for a yoga session. You lie so still and relaxed that you almost float off the mat, but you’re still aware of your surroundings.”

  Luke tilted his head. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  “But when it’s over—I mean the Rosabelle thing, not yoga, that’s when I realize how creepy it all is. How do I know if someone is out to get me, as you put it? For all I know, somebody might want to kill me.”

  “I can’t expect you t’ understand. You’re an outsider. You’re new here. You have no idea what it’s like t’ live with the
se ridiculous old memories day in an’ day out.”

  “So, does that make me a Yankee? Or a damn Yankee?” I asked without trying to hide the hurt in my voice.

  “Hey, look, I’m sorry about callin’ you an outsider. Hell, you’re a member of th’ family. I’m th’ outsider here from that point of view, I s’pose. Believe whatever y’ want. Just leave Abe out of it. Promise, Ashby? Can y’ promise t’ leave Abe be? No more talk about the past?” He reached for my hand.

  I knew he was railroading me, but there was no stifling my automatic response. His deliberate reaching out, the gentle pleading of his voice. And, I realized with a jolt, it was the first time he had ever called me by name. I felt myself melting.

  “C’mon. I’ll walk y’ home.” He still held my hand.

  “Uh…” I looked down at my bare feet. “Got an extra pair of shoes I could use? Size seven, narrow?”

  “No problem.” He swept me off the floor. “Put yer arms aroun’ my neck.” And that was how he carried me all the way to the back door, as if I weighed no more than a doll. Lowering my feet to the ground, without releasing his hold, he pulled me into a close embrace. I could feel his heart beating hard against my chest as he held me to him. Then, he bent his head, and his lips, warm and full, met mine, pressing, firm and sweet, to my own ready response. We stood there in the summer night, held in a kiss that neither of us was willing to end.

  After a long time, we pulled apart only enough to lock gazes. “You’re beautiful, Ashby. Do y’ know that? I’ve been wantin’ t’ kiss you for a long time.”

  “Oh, Luke. I was beginning to think I would forever have to adore you from afar.” I had to smile and add, “I read that line in one of my romance books.”

  We both laughed, but gently, so as not to destroy the beauty of the moment. Then he leaned in for another long, long kiss.

  “I’d better go in,” I said, when I could catch my breath. In my heart I knew, had he suggested it, I would have stayed there with Luke until the sun came up.

  “This was a nice break from calc,” he laughed. “Let’s do this again.”

  As I turned to go, I couldn’t resist a playful question. “Does this mean there is no phantom girlfriend?”

  Though he appeared to consider my question seriously, when he answered, the lightness of his tone matched mine. “Any phantom girlfriend would have t’ be a phantom of your romantic mind. Ashby.”

  Only later, back in my room and reliving the moment, did I realize I could take his comment more than one way. At least, he had not said “another phantom of your romantic mind.”

  FIFTEEN

  “What’s that? Did you see that, Ashby?” Jeff reined in Sunshine and listened.

  I brought Sasha alongside. “What’s what?”

  Sasha’s ears flickered and he stamped, impatient to get on with his run.

  “Dunno. Nothing, maybe. I thought I saw something moving in those trees over there.” He pointed. “Let’s walk the horses over.”

  We had gone only about twenty feet off the trail when there was a sudden crackling of underbrush and a man emerged from behind a big oak not six feet in front of us. Startled, I drew back on Sasha’s bridle.

  “Well, hey,” the man said in a deep drawl. “What’s this?”

  He was not much older than me, with light hair and rough skin. He wore a faded red work shirt and jeans. His teeth looked like a broken zipper.

  “What’re you doing here, Eddie?” Jeff asked, with an edge I had never before heard in his young voice. He urged Sunshine closer to the guy. Without notice, the fellow reached for Sunshine’s bridle, pulling horse and boy within inches of his pitted face.

  “Stop it, Eddie. What d’ya think you’re doing?” Jeff struggled to pull Sunshine away.

  “Th’ question is, what’re you doin’ here? Yer on Mills’ prop’ty, Tadpole.”

  “Who says?” Jeff demanded with surprising pluck. “This is our woods, Eddie. You better get lost before Luke finds out you’re trespassing again.”

  The man scoffed at Jeff and leered suddenly at me. “Who’s yer purty friend, Tadpole?” The twist of tobacco that bulged in his cheek muddled his already slurred syllables, and I had to practically read his lips to understand him. He moved to block my way.

  My heart rapped a wild rhythm in my chest. I should be the one to stand up to this bully, not my little cousin. “Look,” I said, with all the force I could muster. “Look, Eddie. We aren’t bothering you. Let my cousin alone, okay? Just let him go.”

  “Oh, so yer the Tadpole’s cousin, eh?” His lips sneered into an ugly line. “Well, well. If yer who I think y’ are, that makes me and you cousins, too. Did y’ know that? Marian’s father an’ mine was brothers. We’re kissin’ cousins, I’d say.” He flashed his gruesome teeth.

  Evidently pleased with himself, Eddie momentarily relaxed his grip on Sunshine’s bridle, prompting me to call out, “Go, Jeff! Quick! Get Luke!” With a hard tug on the reins, Jeff turned and bolted back down the trail. Oh, God, I thought in distraction. One of the house rules—never ride the trail alone—what if he hurts himself? Uncle Hunter will never forgive me.

  But I turned again to the intruder, this time with fierce purpose. “Do you get your kicks bullying little kids, Eddie Mills? Is that your idea of fun?”

  “Aw-w, y’ didn’t have t’ send th’ tadpole off,” Eddie groused. “I wasn’t gonna hurt ’im. An’ I ain’t aimin’ t’ hurt you, neither.” His bravado gone, Eddie was all sulk and whine.

  I noticed he kept turning to look nervously back at the trail Jeff had taken, watching out for Luke’s arrival.

  He returned his attention to me, holding Sasha at bay. “I seen y’ before, and I knowed who you was. Yer the one Wolf scared.” Eddie’s colorless eyes squinted. “It was a accident. He got loose is all. He wouldn’t hurt ya’. I was right on his heels. I saw y’ faint, jest before I grabbed Wolf an’ hauled him off home.” He looked down at the ground and scuffed his boot in the underbrush. “They won’t no need to kill Wolf.” A look of real pain twisted his features. “Don’t talk about bullyin’ when your own uncle went an’ killed my Wolf.”

  I was completely nonplussed. “My uncle did not kill your dog,” I said with heat. “When he found him on the dock, the animal was already dead.”

  “You say. I heared that story, too. But I know a thing or two ’bout Hunter Overton.” Eddie Mills locked eyes with me. “Killin’s nothin’ new t’ him. He killed yer mother and father, y’ know.”

  I was blown away. What was he saying? It was outrageous.

  “I figgered y’ wouldn’t know nothin’ about it. Th’ Overtons is good about hidin’ all th’ skeletons in they closets. There won’t never no charges or nothin’, a course, since they’s rich an’ got th’ money to pay off all th’ cops an’ lawyers an’ judges an’ sech.” He spat. “Jes’ like they done when they stole our prop’ty.”

  “Listen, Eddie. What you’re saying is impossible. My parents died in a car accident.”

  “It was a icy night an’ it was Hunter put in a call to Marian and Wash to come quick becuz Ol’ Man Thomas was a dyin.’ Hunter, he knowed how fast his brother liked t’ drive and he reckoned on them crashin’ on the curvy, icy road.” Eddie paused before his punch line. “With his brother out the way, Hunter would stand t’ inherit the whole shebang. House, grounds, horses, an’ th’ money.” Crossing his arms, he glared at me, defying me to deny his story.

  “No way could my uncle possibly predict such a wreck. It was an accident. That’s all. A terrible accident.”

  “Don’t y’ see? That’s the point. Old Thomas Overton wasn’t dyin’ that night. Why, he lived on near a year afterwards. I’m tellin’ ya’, ma’am. Yer uncle was makin’ damn sure to inherit everything.”

  “How do you know Hunter was the one who called my parents that night, Eddie?”

  Eddie’s smirk creased his pocked cheeks. “Well, y’ see, Marian and Wash was goin’ to a party that night. They left you with a baby si
tter.”

  “So what?”

  “It jest so happens, my mother was the baby sitter. She took th’ call from Hunter that night. The minute Marian an’ Wash come in from the party, why, she sent ’em on their way to Overhome. Said to hurry becuz Wash’s father was a dyin.’ Hunter said so.” He leaned against a tree and spit a stream of brown tobacco juice into the brush. “Wash was speedin’, and he’d had a drink or two at the party. His car never made the curve before the driveway. They was both killed instantly. Jest like Hunter planned it.”

  In the distance I heard the sound of horses, and I knew Jeff was returning with Luke. Eddie heard it, too, for he turned tail to run back into the woods. But, he could not resist a parting shot. “Jest don’t fergit. Yer only half Overton. Other half’s Mills.” He took off at a trot, disappearing between the trees.

  I went to meet Jeff and Luke. One look at Luke was enough to make me laugh. He was riding Donnie, the gaited pinto pony who was up in years and ornery as Lucifer himself. Donnie’s favorite trick was to run his rider under low-slung branches in hopes of knocking him off. Luke rode bareback, his long legs trailing the ground.

  “Donnie was the closest horse at the time,” he explained. “Y’ don’t mess around with Eddie Mills. I’m goin’ after him.”

  I put a hand on Luke’s arm. “No, Luke. Don’t. He tried to bully Jeff and he told me a whacked-out story I refuse to believe. Leave it alone. It’s done and he’s gone.”

  “He didn’t hurt anybody,” Jeff piped up. “If you go after him, Dad might find out you sent me riding back alone. Then we wouldn’t be allowed to ride any more…” Jeff blinked nervously. “Don’t tell Dad, Luke. Okay?”