For Whom the Roses Grow

by Rebekah Blackmore

  Jo thought about it for a moment. On the one hand, she needed to get home and do her job. On the other hand, a meal and warm clothes sounded a lot better than dealing with Mrs. Anderson. Theresa was right, Susanna and Dessie would be fine for now—they’d be furious with Jo for disappearing on them, but they would be fine. “All right. I'll stay.”

  “Wonderful!” Theresa clapped her hands together and smiled. “I was planning on using the stew for both dinner and supper, but I do believe that I have more than enough to give you. Besides, a young lady such as you needs all the nourishment she can get, especially working with that witch and all.” She winked and stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth,

  Jo gave Theresa a small smile, but she didn't respond in words. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say to that, especially now that she knew that Theresa and Mrs. Anderson knew one another on a personal level.

  Theresa pushed herself off the bed and motioned for Jo to follow her down to the kitchen. Jo did so, her gaze drifting from point to point as she noticed just how much more homey and comforting the Martin house felt in comparison to Mrs. Anderson’s. Unlike Mangrove House, Theresa and Will's home was modest in size and was pleasantly cluttered. There were pictures lining the walls of Theresa and Will and their children (two boys, and a girl), as well as hanging plants and vases on tables lining every wall from the bedrooms to the kitchen. The hardwood floors were scuffed in places, and the rugs that lined the hallways were faded and threadbare. There was not a speck of dust in sight, and all the furniture and décor seemed to be in good condition rather than tattered and destroyed, like Mrs. Anderson’s was.

  The kitchen, too, was much more inviting than the one at Mangrove House was, even if Dessie and Susanna did their best to make the room theirs. Rather than the gray stone walls, Theresa and Will had covered their walls with a light-colored wood, and had hung actual paintings up on the wall. Jo couldn’t see any faded coloration from where pictures or shelves had been removed, and the dining room that branched off from the kitchen looked like it was used on a normal basis rather than once every few years.

  The paintings, however, were what really caught Jo’s eye. No matter how much she marveled at the rest of the house, she kept coming back to those beautiful works of art.

  Jo wandered towards a rather exquisite canvas above the sink of an orchard of apple trees, the branches heavy with fruit and a narrow stream running through the corner of the painting. She leaned forward to get a better look only to jump away when Theresa's voice from behind startled her.

  “That's one of Cordelia's paintings from the early days of her marriage,” Theresa said, placing her hand gently on Jo’s shoulder before pointing to a spot on the painting near the top of the stream. “And that's where she got married. It was on her grandfather's property, if I recall correctly. He had the most beautiful land: acres and acres of blooming flowers and rolling hills. We used to play games with our brothers and sisters all along his land. Our mothers used to take us there biweekly, during the warmer months.” She gestured for Jo to sit down at the table.

  Jo did as she was instructed and sat down, although her eyes were still locked on the painting. Dessie and Susanna had said that Mrs. Anderson was talented with a brush, but she never imagined that such a bitter soul could produce such breathtaking work. “I didn’t know that Mrs. Anderson could paint so well. Those trees look so real—I feel like I could just reach out and touch the leaves.” Jo couldn’t keep the awe from slipping into her voice.

  Theresa’s smile grew at the praise. “Even when we were little ones, she was always tinkering away with that paint brush of hers, be it with those expensive little paint pots that her brother used to buy her or with the berries and leaves that we dug up in our mothers’ gardens. All of the paintings in here are Cordie’s, actually.” Theresa waved her hand around the room so that all the paintings were showcased. Jo had noticed a couple of the paintings when she had walked into the kitchen, but now, looking closely, she realized that there were dozens of canvases around the kitchen of varying sizes and color. Theresa cleared her throat and pointed to the corner of the room, where Jo had overlooked a toddler playing in a splintered highchair.

  The little girl from the hallway pictures was banging happily on the tray in front of her and throwing bits of peas and carrots into the air, quite a few of the morsels ending up stuck to the walls and to the wondrous canvases. The boys from the photographs were in the kitchen too, albeit briefly, as they chased each other around the house, nearly knocking the paintings off the wall and the chairs to the floor. Theresa ignored them and went over to the counter, waving her hand in the direction of a small table in the corner of the room, likely where the Martin family dined on less formal occasions.

  Jo sat down in one of the chairs. She watched Theresa spoon some of the stew into a wooden bowl and listened to the ruckus from the boys before saying, “I wasn't aware that Mrs. Anderson had any brothers or sisters. Susanna and Dessie make it seem like she is all alone.”

  Theresa placed the bowl in front of Jo and sighed. “Well, I do not know Susanna all that well, but Dessie is generally right about these kinds of things and, like I said, it has been well over three years since Cordelia and I have crossed paths. It is very likely that the few friends that she had when Jacob and Casey were still alive have ceased to spend time with her. As for her brothers and sisters . . . yes, Cordie has an older brother, a twin sister, and a younger sister. They all passed away the summer of 1893, when there was a fire at her parents’ home. Cordie was with me, so she was safe, but her siblings . . . they didn’t make it out in time.”

  Jo’s eyes widened. “I had no idea. What happened to her parents?”

  “Her mother passed away shortly before Cordie’s siblings did, and her father . . . well, last I heard he will still alive, but Cordie and he stopped speaking the day of her wedding.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m afraid that story isn’t for me to tell, my dear.” Theresa reached out and patted Jo’s hand before adjusting her skirts and standing up. “Eat up, Jo. You’ll need your strength to stay warm in that drafty house.” She went over to the highchair and picked the toddler up. “I am going to change Millie, but you eat up, all right? I’ll be back down shortly to check on you and to bring you your clothes.”

  “Okay, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

  “You’re welcome.” Theresa held Millie closer to her chest and made her way out of the kitchen. Over the sound of the boys screaming, Jo could hear Theresa making her way up the stairs.

  She looked down at the stew and poked around it with her spoon while it cooled off before taking a bite, her mouth watering as soon as the flavors hit her taste buds. Why, Theresa’s cooking was amazing! There was just the right amount of spices, and the meat (was that duck or goose? Jo couldn’t tell), while tasting gamey, was chopped up in a way that kept the texture from getting too gritty. The vegetables were soft and had absorbed the tanginess of the meat, making every bite an explosion of flavor in Jo’s mouth.

  It only took a few minutes for Jo to finish eating, and when she had, she pushed the bowl away from her so that it was sitting in the center of the table. It was a good thing, too, that she had moved it, because right as she was about to stand up, Theresa and Will’s sons crashed into her chair.

  “Leslie! Theodore! What is the meaning of this?” Theresa cried from the stairwell, Millie still in her arms. She came down the rest of the way and stormed across the kitchen, a hard look in her eyes and her lips set in a firm line. She put Millie back in her highchair before clouting her sons on the ears and dragging them to a door in the back corner of the kitchen. She used her grip on their earlobes to propel them out of the door and into the snow. “If you boys want to play rough, do it outside, and when you are cold enough to want to come back in, I expect you both to be well-behaved, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Mama,” Theodore and Leslie responded together, looking ashamed and regretful for the slight
est of moments before rushing off to play in the snow.

  Theresa stared out the door at them before turning on her heel, sighing as she brushed the white powder off her skirt. She looked at Jo before giving her a second serving of the stew. “If you have any say in the matter, never have children.”

  Jo nearly snorted, but she caught herself just in time. If she pursued her interests, there was not a chance in hell that she would ever end up conceiving, but she didn’t need to let Theresa know that. She nodded politely and ate the new portion of stew, her stomach stretching towards its maximum size as the meat began to settle.

  Theresa shook her head at the sound of snowballs slamming into the window panes with a wet plop. She ground her teeth and looked down at Jo’s empty bowl before looking up at her face. “Like I said, a growing girl needs to eat. Would you like some more?”

  “I had more than enough, thank you plenty. Would it be okay if . . . ” she trailed off, not wanting to be impolite by asking Theresa if she could leave. After all, Theresa and Will had done her a great service by bringing her out of the cold and into their home, and she didn’t want to make it seem like she was being ungrateful.

  Theresa, however, seemed to catch on to what Jo was implying, and she smiled softly before nodding. “Of course you may go home now, if that’s what you wish. I daresay your garments should be nice and toasty-warm for you now. I will let Will know that you are nearly ready to leave, and then I will fetch them for you.”

  “All right, ma’am. Thank you.”

  “You are very welcome.”

  Theresa left the room only to return a few minutes later with Jo’s uniform and her undergarments draped over one arm. She gestured with her head up the stairs. Jo followed her up and back into the bedroom where she had woken up, the nerves in her stomach firing back up at the thought of returning to Mrs. Anderson. Regardless, she needed to change into her own gown, even if it was just to get the itchy seams off the edges of her shoulders and wrists.

  Ten minutes later, Jo was dressed and ready to go. “Are you sure this is all right? I can walk back, if this is an inconvenience,” Jo commented to Will as he helped her climb up into the carriage. She adjusted the blanket on the seat before sitting down, shivering as she pulled her peat coat tighter around herself.

  Will jumped up next to her and gathered the reigns in his hands. He shook them twice to get the horses to move before looking over at Jo and smiling brightly at her. “Of course it’s all right. This is my carriage, and I’m allowed to transport whoever and whatever I want within it, and today, I want to transport you. Besides, you nearly caught your death traveling to our room, and it wouldn’t be right for your luck to run out on the way back to yours. Mangrove House, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Then that way we shall go.” He shook the reigns again and directed the horses into the woods. Jo could hardly believe that he knew where he was going in the woods through all the snow, especially with everything sparkling beneath the frost. The blizzard was still brewing, and the snow was still falling hard and fast. Jo tried to hunch down further into the seat to get some warmth, but nothing that she did proved to be any help.

  Fortunately, it seemed that while Jo thought that she had wandered miles and miles away from Mrs. Anderson’s home, Mangrove House was much closer than she expected. Sure, Theresa had said that the homes were next door to one another, but back in Jo’s hometown, it wasn’t uncommon for houses that were “next door” to one another to be five or six miles apart. However, it appeared that if Jo had paid attention to the way that the trees were spaced out, she would have realized that there was a direct path that went from Mangrove House to the Martins’ home.

  Will was quiet for most of the ride, but when they had almost reached Mrs. Anderson’s grounds, he asked, “So . . . how is Cordelia doing? I know that it broke Theresa’s heart when she locked herself away from the world. They used to do everything together, you know.”

  “Theresa told me. She said she hasn’t seen her since Mr. Anderson and their son died?”

  “Oh, it’s been longer than that. When Molly died, Cordelia started pulling away from everyone, especially when she realized that she was the reason that her daughter passed.”

  Jo’s eyes shot open. That was not something that either Dessie or Susanna mentioned to her. “What? How?”

  Will nodded solemnly. “No one around these parts ever talks about it, but Jacob and Casey were out on a hunting trip when it happened. The baby had been crying all night, and Cordelia just couldn’t stand it anymore. She put Molly in her cradle and left the room. She shut the door to block out the sound and went down to the kitchen, where she knew that she would not hear the crying, and fell asleep.”

  Jo’s eyes widened. “So there was something seriously wrong with the baby?”

  Will nodded. “Aye. Cordelia woke up a few hours later and felt horrible about what she had done, so she went back upstairs to check on Molly and found her with her little face pressed against her pillow. The doctor said that she must have rolled over in her sleep and suffocated.”

  Jo lifted a hand up to her mouth. “That’s horrible.”

  “Cordelia was never the same after that. Her marriage became strained, and she was petrified to be left alone in the house with her son. When Jacob and Casey died . . . well, you know the rest.” Will chewed his bottom lip for a moment before reaching over and placing his hand over Jo’s. “Jo, please be careful with Cordelia. I know that she is a stubborn wench and that she can cut you deep as any blade, but she only hurts other to protect herself.”

  Jo didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded. Will patted her hand again before turning back to the front. He led the horses the rest of the way through the trees until they had emerged back onto Mrs. Anderson’s property once again.

  “Well, Ms. Joanna, it appears that you are home.”

  7

  Jo stared up at the house, grinding her teeth nervously as she caught a glimpse of a face in the upstairs window. She twisted her mouth up to the side and twiddled her fingers on her lap. “I would not consider this my home,” Jo said after a few minutes, biting down on her lower lip.

  Will stared at the house before turning to look at Jo. He studied her, his eyes narrowing and his brow furrowing as he looked back up at the house, then back at her. “If you working for Mrs. Anderson fills your life with so much misery then why don’t you leave? Why not help someone different, someone who is grateful for the things she has been given?”

  Jo thought about it for a moment before answering. “I have only been here for a mere three days. I suppose that I am hoping that things will get better, once Mrs. Anderson gets used to having me around.” She shrugged and lifted a hand to brush back a stray strand of hair. She shuffled her feet against the floor of the carriage and kicked the front with the tips of her boots.

  Will watched her movements before sighing and turning his eyes to the ground. “Well, if Mrs. Anderson’s bitterness and poor attitude gets to be too much for you, you are always welcome in our home. Theresa always makes enough food to feed an army; one more mouth to feed isn’t going to much of a difference.” He gave Jo a small smile before snapping the reigns in his hands. “I’ll take you up to the door.”

  “Thank you. You are very kind.” Jo returned the smile even though Will was looking in the opposite direction. She sat patiently while the horses sank down into the snow, counting the seconds and praying for more time the closer and closer that she got to the house.

  The seconds ticked by quickly, though, and Jo barely had time to blink before Will’s carriage was at the door. “Thank you for dinner and for taking me home,” Jo said with a soft smile, placing her hand on Will’s shoulder.

  Will opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by a loud crashing sound by the front door. Jo looked over to see that Dessie and Susanna were rushing out of the house, their skirts flying as they tried to reach Jo. Susanna nearly slipped on the top step, but Dessie gr
abbed the back of her dress and pulled her upright before darting the rest of the way down to the carriage.

  Susanna, somehow, reached the carriage before Dessie did. She reached out and took Jo’s hand, pulling her down out of the carriage and into her arms. “Oh, Jo, Dessie and I were so worried when you didn’t come back! We thought that the worst had happened to you, that we were never going to see you again―I told you not to wander around the woods when it is this cold out! You should have known better; you are sucha smart girl―”

  “Thank you for bringing Jo back to us,” Dessie interrupted, directing her gaze to Will and grabbing Susanna’s upper arms to pull her and Jo up to the second step, the three girls sinking through the snow down to the stone.

  Will flushed and shook the reigns slowly as Jo gave him another small smile. “It was no problem, honestly. It was the least that I could do with all that Cordelia and the both of you have done for me and my family.” He stamped his feet, rubbing his hands together around the reigns. He nodded politely, although when he kept repeating the action and pursing his lips, Jo realized that he was nervous. The pink flush on his cheeks darkened to a deep red, and the gentle shaking of his hands turned to a more rapid movement as his hands started to tremble.

  He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, the tapping of his feet moving up to his knees. “I guess I should be getting home now,” he said, his voice cracking. Jo couldn’t help but chuckle at the look on his face as he snapped the reigns again and sped back off in the direction of the woods, turning to glance up at Mrs. Anderson’s window every few seconds.

  Once Will and his carriage were nothing more than blowing snow in the wind, the three women helped each other climb back up the steps and into the house. They dripped snow onto the floor, making the aged carpet seize up and turn an ugly green color. Jo wrinkled her nose up at it, but Dessie and Susanna didn’t seem to notice as they dragged Jo into the kitchen, where both the woodstove and the fireplace were lit, filling the otherwise chilly room with heat. Dessie let go of Jo to grab a chair, but Susanna kept holding her tightly until she was properly seated and had her soaked feet resting in front of the fire.