Roses Collection: Boxed Set

by Freda, Paula

  Michael laughed, "We were an imaginative lot. There were lots of moths in the garden. Although that one ... we could honestly distinguish it from the others ... its wings. My seven-year-old mind could swear, they shimmered, especially in the moonlight."

  Geraldine smiled, that all-knowing, beloved, grandmotherly smile. She beckoned to Michael, "Well, let me serve you fresh-brewed coffee and the chocolate chip cookies I prepared the moment I learned you were coming. They are nearly finished baking." She glanced at Jessie. Always the sensitive, kind one, the girl appeared ready to excuse herself, wishing to give grandmother and grandson, their privacy. Geraldine quickly, added, "Come, come, both of you."

  Geraldine, besides being housekeeper, was cook as well. The elegant colonial kitchen, part of the main house, served also the angled wing that Mark's parents had ordered built for her and Harry upon their employment, a lifetime ago.

  Aside from its modern utilities, the room transported one into the past. Generations of Carlsons had walked across the bricked floor under the high-beamed ceiling, and sat at the smooth rectangular, dark wood table, their backs straight and stalwart in the slate-back chairs with rush seats. Heirloom plates handed down proudly from mother to daughter hung on the white walls and adorned the dark wood shelves of an antique hutch-on-buffet. On the stone mantel above the fireplace stood centuries-old tin plates and pewter tankards, copper teapots and fine porcelain figurines. An authentic spinning wheel rested beneath a pair of windows that were dressed with gathered lace.

  With Geraldine in and out of the pantry this morning, the door to the food closet had been left partly open. The shelves within were stocked with jars of homemade jams and canned fruits. Aromatic herb sprigs hung from a cord strung high across the pantry’s width. Jessie breathed in the aromatic scents and felt her downtrodden spirits pleasantly revitalize.

  She chose not to sit in her usual place, second chair on the left. The first chair remained empty, reserved for her elder sister, Carol, now happily married to Herb, a childhood friend. The next two chairs had long ago been assigned to her two brothers, Henry and Richard, presently attending graduate school abroad. Only a year apart, they'd always been inseparable. Unlike most brothers, they rarely teased each other, or fought; ergo, Cybelle had never needed to seat them apart.

  For the present, she joined Michael and Geraldine at the opposite end of the darkwood table, respecting Geraldine's customs. Despite considered more family, than paid servant, the housekeeper insisted on employer-worker propriety. She and her husband hailed from the old school. Housekeeper, nanny; beloved old friends, she, and Harry, keeper of the grounds, respected the subtle nuances between employer and workers. They had brought up their daughter Harriet, Michael's mother, in the same vein, although over the years Harriet and her family had grown to be numbered among their employers' best friends.

  The kitchen smelled of chewy chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven. And as usual, Geraldine's coffee was hot, strong, and brewed to perfection. Michael sipped the dark brew, smiling affectionately at his grandmother. "So, Ger, what's new? What have I missed these past two years?"

  "Well, some weddings, a funeral or two, some broken hearts."

  "Yes," Michael nodded. "Including mine, and Jessie's." But aside from those, what I've missed most, is your cooking," he said, brushing aside unhappy memories. "And we are still here, survivors. We have learned from our mistakes, and we're ready for the next round of whatever life decides to throw at us."

  "I second that," Jessie said. "The past is over," she told Geraldine. "Someone wonderful waits somewhere for your grandson to find her."

  "And the same for you, Jessie," Michael added.

  "Oh no," Jessie shook her head adamantly. "Not for me, never again for me. Call me Cinderella Ice. I've learned my lesson well. I stand on my own two feet and don't need anyone ... except for my family and friends, of course." She placed her hand affectionately over Geraldine's.

  "Dear child," Geraldine clasped Jessie's hand. "You're hurting now, but time will ease the hurt. Use your newfound wisdom, but don't close off your heart, if a good man should come your way."

  Jessie welcomed her nanny's nurturing concern, but the wound to her heart had cut too deep. Michael's words interrupted her protest.

  "You stipulated, except for family and friends. Let's suppose I made a bid for your wounded heart. Would you turn from me as well?"

  Startled by the question, Jessie had to think a moment before she could answer. Michael was merely suggesting an unlikely scenario to backup Geraldine's advice.

  "Michael Sands, I've known you all my life. You're definitely a good man. But I'm certainly not your type, and far from the woman who could make you happy for the rest of your life. So, with that in mind, I can answer you without embarrassing or compromising either of us. No, I would not turn from you." She added a chuckle to indicate the improbability of the whole scenario.

  She waited for the answering laughter, but unexpectedly, none came. Michael's gaze was serious and fixed on hers. Geraldine seemed to be holding her breath.

  Jessie swallowed. Maybe she had said something stupid. "Hey, did I say something wrong?"

  Geraldine spoke. "Absolutely not. You are a sweet girl, just like your mother." She smiled at the memory of the grieving and rebellious sixteen-year-old who had come to live under Mark's roof, and fallen deeply in love with him. An unlikely pair, yet Cybelle had captured his heart, and their marriage was one to be envied.

  The oven alarm went off, the electronic pings telling everyone the cookies were ready.

  "Ah, just in time," Geraldine said.

  "Yes," Michael agreed. "Waistline be damned, let's splurge."

  Jessie concurred.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Morning wove into afternoon and afternoon into evening. While Geraldine prepared dinner, Michael invited Jessie to stroll alongside the stone fence bordering the back of the estate and revisit old childhood memories.

  "Remember, pudgy Herb and how he persistently followed your sister Carol over the fence and down the slope to the river?" Michael recalled.

  "You mean, tumbled down the slope," Jessie said, chuckling.

  Michael nodded, laughing. "Yes, that's a truer description. Who would have thought that she'd eventually marry him?"

  "Not Carol, definitely. She considered him a pest. She used to say, the silly boy thinks he's my protector. But that's exactly what he grew up to be."

  "However did he manage to steal her heart?" Michael asked.

  "Well, first of all, you haven't seen Herb in years. He's not that pudgy silly boy anymore. He matured into a very handsome and likable man. Smart, intelligent and a successful patent lawyer employed by my dad. And secondly, Carol was at last ready to find the right man for her, and not the one she'd hankered for since her teens, especially since he was in love with someone else, Carol's complete opposite. It took some doing, even after the wedding, but Carol and Herb are very much in love and content." Jessie sighed, the memory of her own misplaced affections, taunting her. At least Carol had believed herself in love with a good man. Evan was always kind and had never led Carol on, or taken advantage of her misplaced affections. Not at all like Walt in her case.

  Seeing the unhappiness resurface on Jessie's face, Michael stopped walking and gently clasping Jessie's shoulders, turning her to face him, lifted her chin so their gazes met. "Hey, the past is over, finished," he said. "And just like your sister, Carol, there's someone that's right for you, waiting to steal your heart. I promise."

  There was such earnestness in his voice, and tenderness, Cinderella Ice found it hard to negate his advice. Her old self that desperately needed to be loved and appreciated, tried to assert itself. Why hadn't she fallen for Michael in her teens, and followed him around like a puppy dog. At least he wouldn't have led her on for devious purposes. Michael would have been kind, concerned, and gentle, as Evan had been with Carol, and let her off easily, when he realized he could not requite her affections.


  The thought suddenly surfaced, was there a possibility that Michael—. Cinderella Ice tensed. Don't you dare, she told herself. Don't you dare read into Michael's feelings. He's on the rebound from his own broken heart. He might take pity on you until he finds a new love. He'd let you off easily, but in the end, you'd be hurt again, not like Walt did, but your heart would still be broken. No way! Cinderella Ice has learned how to protect herself.

  "Thank you, Michael. You're very kind, and I'm grateful. I'm just experiencing a brief relapse. I'm fine." She pulled free of his hold, though she had to admit, his hands clasping her shoulders had felt warm and protective. "I think we should head back. I'm getting chilly and a little tired. Do you mind?"

  "Of course, not," Michael said. "It is getting chilly, and I'd like to visit with my grandparents a bit longer before returning to my office in the City."

  Jessie nodded. "Yes, you need some private time with them. I think I'll retire early tonight with a good book. My parents are scheduled to return tomorrow night."

  "You're all right, then?" Michael asked, again with that earnestness and concern that threatened to undo her resolves.

  "Yes, yes I'm fine. Thanks. Let's go."

  Later that evening, ensconced in her robe and fluffy slippers, Jessie watched from her bedroom window Michael drive off. The feel of his hands, warm and comforting on her shoulders, persisted. She thought, sadly, if ever there were a man capable of breaking the ice sculpture she had built around her heart, he would have to be a lot like Michael Sands.

  Jessie retired early, and prayed to the Lord that dreams of insecurity or Walt's face not mar her sleep.

  Only one nightmare disturbed her rest that night ...

  Walt, leaning against a post on the Driscoll's porch at the main house on the Bar LB, sneering at her contemptuously. Horses inside a corral in the background whinnied. A wolf on a hill somewhere, bayed at the moon. She desperately wanted to look away, but Walt's eyes, a silver hazel in the moonlight, kept her riveted in place. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome, to boot, on the outside. On the inside, he was ugly, like Dorian Gray from a book she'd read. All the same, her subconscious disregarded the inside image and imposed a feeling of desire. She wanted to scream, get away from me. Run away!

  A voice, masculine, yet light, and gentle, called her name. "It's all right, he can't hurt you anymore. I won't let him. You're mine, now." She felt a presence behind her. Walt's double-exposed image fading, forgotten, she turned. Michael Sands stood in front of her, a Stetson perched lazily on his blonde hair, cut short, parted on the side, and swept back. Tall, slim, in a plaid shirt, vest, and denims, he smiled at her, a warm, caring, affectionate smile and a look of earnest assurance in his "It's okay, Jessie. You're mine, now. You'll always be mine."

  "Always," she repeated, grateful, content.

  "Always—" her lips formed the words, as the sunlight streaming through the upper window sash, flooded her bedroom and softly woke her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jessie's family returned earlier than expected. They had originally planned to stay until evening, sightseeing and shopping. When Jessie inquired why they had cut their stay, their hesitant pause didn't escape her.

  "Oh, the weatherman forecast showers, and we didn't want to get caught in them on our drive home," Carol replied.

  Jessie knew her sister well enough to sense when she was telling the truth and when she was fabricating an excuse. But as no one said otherwise, Jessie kept quiet. Not until later that evening, after dinner, did she find out the true reason for their early return. She sat between her mother and father on the couch, playing catch-up with her sister and brother-in-law who sat in the two wing chairs across from her. Jessie hadn't seen or spoken to them since her elopement with Walt.

  "If I'd been at the ranch with you, and suspected your elopement, I would have stopped you," Carol told her, with her usual air of the wise older sister.

  "I'd have made sure you didn't find out," Jessie replied, but added quickly, in all earnestness, "Although now, I wish I had confided in you, and you'd been there to stop me."

  "Water under the bridge," Herb said. "You're home, safe, moving on with your life."

  "Yes," Jessie sighed. "That's what everyone tells me."

  Cybelle clasped Jessie's hand. "Sweetheart, Michael was right. You've been feeling depressed. I'm glad we came home early."

  "Michael ... you spoke to him?"

  "Yes, when he arrived back in the city, he stopped by the hotel we were staying at. Geraldine had given him the name of the hotel. He told us about his visit to his grandmother and seeing you again. He was concerned about you being depressed and alone without your family around you. He's a very kind young man."

  "Yes, he is, mother," Jessie affirmed. "And actually, he cheered me up. By the time he left, I was feeling better."

  Impossible not to see that knowing exchange of family gazes. Jessie tensed. "He's a good friend; we go way back, as you all know. I-I mean with Harriet being his mother, and Geraldine his grandmother, we practically grew up together."

  "You haven't seen him in years," Carol said. "He's changed."

  "Yes, he has, and for the better," Jessie heard herself defending.

  "Lookswise," Carol said, "but he was always a nice person."

  Jessie nodded, a bit alarmed, suspecting her family was up to something. The way they'd directly brought the subject of Michael into the conversation.

  Cybelle confirmed Jessie suspicions. "I think you should date Michael."

  "Cybelle!" Mark exclaimed in exasperation. He sighed, "Jessie, you know your mother. Never one to hold back."

  "What's to hold back?" Cybelle remarked. "She's lonely; he's lonely."

  Jessie stared at each member of her family. "Mother, Father, Sister, Brother-in-law, let me make myself clear. Dating on the rebound is never wise, especially so in the case of good friends, where each is super-sensitive to the other's feelings. Then there's the fact that neither of us have ever had any romantic interest in the other. Do not," she admonished, "and I mean it — have this conversation with Michael or Geraldine. Please!"

  No one replied, but the tightening of their lips relayed their displeasure and, Jessie thought cringing, their determination to ignore her cease-and-desist. Guess it was time to move out, to an apartment of her own, preferably in town, near her employment at the bank.

  "I think I'll retire early again tonight," she said, rising, exasperated. "Good night all." She left the living room, and hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. Once inside, some of her bravado left her. She had no money saved; nor any intention of asking her parents to dip into her college fund, especially after her past indiscretions and her opposing views. By the time she'd undressed and was ready to climb into bed, she had made up her mind to take action. Michael had given her his cellphone number yesterday in case she needed his help. I'll call Michael before my family can get to him, and guilt him into asking me out, and explain I have no designs on him romantically.

  Cellphone in hand, she sat on the thick satin comforter, umbrellered under the flowered four poster canopy, and dialed his number. The phone rang four times and his automated voice informed her he was not available. "Please leave your name and number, and I'll get back to you as soon as I'm able. Thanks."

  Disappointed, while at the same time, relieved to put off a sensitive conversation, she determined to call him again tomorrow, earlier in the evening. Pulling aside the thick comforter, she slid under the sheet and blanket. She breathed a sigh of complacency, reasoning, in truth she wouldn't mind going out with him, as long as she assured him their dating would be strictly platonic. With this in mind, it might be fun hanging out together.

  For the first time since Walt had left her, and the discovery of his true character, and her bigamous marriage, Jessie slept restfully, and dreamed she danced freely through her favorite landscapes, the green-forested valley of the Hudson River, and the wide plains below the spruce covered snow-capped candy mountai
ns on the Montana range.

  Her cellphone on the end table vibrated with the musical refrain to a former star trek series she had thoroughly enjoyed, Voyager with Captain Kathryn Janeway, in the twenty-fourth century, on a space ship, exploring the universe.

  Yawning sleepily, she stretched and retrieved the cellphone. The time read 7:30 a.m., and the caller ID, M Sands. It took a moment to register in her not fully awake mind. She sat up with a start. "Hello!" she blurted. Composing herself, she repeated, "Hi."

  "Hi, hope I didn't wake you," Michael said, a note of apology in his voice. "Your mom said you were usually up early."

  Oh, no, Jessie groaned. They'd called him before she could explain. "I am so sorry," she pleaded. "Believe me, it wasn't my idea."

  "What wasn't your idea?" Michael asked. He sounded nonplussed.

  "What-what my mother called you about."

  "Your mother didn't call me. I called last night, the main number. I didn't have your cell number. You'd already gone to bed. I didn't wish to disturb you, so I asked what time was convenient to call in the morning."

  "Oh, well, I'm usually an early riser, but I had a particularly restful night and overslept. Of course, it's nice hearing from you. What-what are you calling me about?" Jessie asked, puzzled.

  "Just to clarify that we're on the same wavelength, what wasn't your idea?"

  Jessie swallowed nervously. She'd never been good at concocting excuses. And in this situation ... she opted for the truth. "My parents and sister formed the silly notion that since both of us are ailing from broken hearts, we should date." Quickly, she added, "I told them that dating on the rebound was the worst idea for us. I mean, putting you on the spot like that. I called you last night, hoping to reach you before my family did, to assure you I have no desire at this time to date anyone — ever. But you were out."