For Whom the Roses Grow

by Rebekah Blackmore

  Before Jo could properly examine Mrs. Anderson, however, the woman shoved Jo's hand away and slid down in her chair, dropping her chin to her chest. “I am just peachy,” she muttered, ducking her head away again when Jo tried to sneak around her face. She kicked her foot out and hit Jo in the shin with enough force that she stepped away from the chair.

  By the time Jo had managed to regain her balance, Mrs. Anderson had wheeled herself over to the table and had begun to eat. Jo walked over to the table to make sure that Mrs. Anderson was getting her medication before she turned on her heel and walked towards the door. “I will be back up in a bit to collect your dishes for you and to bring you your tea, Mrs. Anderson.”

  Just like every other morning since Jo’s arrival, there was no response from Mrs. Anderson. Jo walked down the hall to her own bedchamber. She was hoping to get some reading done before Dessie and she dusted the parlour and beat the rugs. She had gotten a book from their library, a nice thick, fascinating tome about a young orphan girl sent off to live at a boarding school. She was only a few chapters in, and already she was hooked.

  Unfortunately, right as she sat down next to her windowsill, she heard a timid, “Joanna?” come from down the hall.

  Jo sighed and set the book down. “Coming, madam!” she called back, standing up and brushing her skirt off before making her way back to Mrs. Anderson. “Is there something that you need?”

  Mrs. Anderson rocked in her seat and fondled the table cloth in her hand. She used her other hand to poke at the English muffin, keeping her eyes downcast. “I was wondering if . . . ” She trailed off, shaking her head. She let out a loud sigh and picked up one of the muffins, shaking it lightly before dropping it back on the plate. “Actually, there is nothing that I need. My mistake.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You may leave.”

  Jo studied Mrs. Anderson for a moment before shrugging. If Mrs. Anderson didn't need her, then she wasn't going to put up a fight. She gave Mrs. Anderson a tight smile before turning and walking to the door.

  Before she could get back to the hallway, however, Mrs. Anderson called out, “Wait, Joanna. I know I have been nothing but cruel and taunting to you these last several weeks, even this very morning, but could you possibly sit with me while I finish my breakfast? Dessie and Susanna sit with me, sometimes, but when they have a nurse to spend time with me . . . they are not in here as much as I would like them to be.” She glanced up to look at Jo's face before dropping her gaze back down. “I will understand if my request displeases you.”

  Jo stared at Mrs. Anderson, her chest tight as she tried to think of a response. She hadn't thought of Mrs. Anderson feeling that way about having so many nurses go in and out through her home. It made sense, though, when she really thought about it. Susanna had said that Mrs. Anderson was cruel because she was afraid of getting too close to anyone. She probably thought that Dessie and Susanna truly did dislike her, and that that's why they asked for help in the home.

  Jo worried her bottom lip before moving a chair over to the table and sitting down. She tapped her fingers idly against the wood for a moment before saying, “Mrs. Anderson, Dessie and Susanna keep bringing people into your home so that they can make sure your home is kept at its very best, not because they do not wish to spend time with you.”

  “Then why do they not talk to me about hiring a new maid, hm? If cleanliness was their concern, then they would still be up here with me.” She took a bite of her muffin before putting it back down, hanging her head sadly. “Joanna, I know that you must think me wicked for how I have treated you. It is just . . . I have lost so much in my life, and I could not stand it if I lost one more friend, but with Dessie and Susanna being so distant . . . I am just so lonely.”

  Jo hadn't realized that Mrs. Anderson had begun to cry until she reached a hand up to wipe a tear from her eye. The woman sniffed before continuing. “I regret the way that I have treated you. You are most definitely worth much more than any of the slanderous words that I have uttered.”

  Jo pursed her lips and nodded. As much as she understood the reasoning behind Mrs. Anderson's actions, she wasn't sure if she could forgive her with a clean conscious until the woman proved herself to be as kind as Susanna had said she was. Regardless, she made herself comfortable on the wooden chair and waited for Mrs. Anderson to finish her food.

  She had thought that Mrs. Anderson would want to make conversation, or at least complain to Jo about the quality of her breakfast, but she remained completely silent. Instead of the sniffles and tears that plagued her mere minutes before, she had a gentle smile on her face and kept sending Jo hopeful glances.

  As Mrs. Anderson ate, Jo studied her, taking in features close-up that she hadn't noticed in all her days of service. Mrs. Anderson had a splattering of light-brown freckles across her nose, and the neckline of her woolen gown, while so elegantly embroidered, was missing entire sections of lace and had gone a light-gray color from all the dust in the house. She also had specks of dust coating her hair, something that Jo must have missed while she was putting the woman’s hair up.

  The room, too, held more of Mrs. Anderson's personality than Jo had noticed before. Just like in other places around the house, there were empty vases, although above the armoire there were two vases that held bouquets of dried red roses who had long ago turned purple and bunches of baby's breath that looked as though it would snap under the simplest of touches. There were a few canvases piled in one corner of the room, the beautiful, carefully-crafted strokes obscured by the slash marks going directly through the center of each painting in a starburst pattern. The hardwood floor, while still well-set and clean, had small dots of colored paint covering it from the window to a writing desk to the left of Mrs. Anderson's bed. Across from the table, the wallpaper was faded, except for a single large, oblong space that Jo figured must once have had a mirror in front of it.

  The slashed paintings, Jo could understand, but why would Mrs. Anderson want to get rid of the only mirror in her bedchamber? She never left the room, and with how judgmental she was of everyone else's appearances, it just didn't make sense that she wasn't concerned with her own features.

  Jo didn't realize that Mrs. Anderson had been trying to get her attention until she felt pressure on her hand. She looked down to see Mrs. Anderson squeezing her thumb. “Is something the matter?” Jo asked, flipping her hand over so that she could grasp Mrs. Anderson around the wrist. Mrs. Anderson spread her fingers and copied the motion around Jo’s wrist. She didn't respond verbally, however, and just kept her grip tight for nearly a full minute before she let go and resumed eating.

  Jo watched her in confusion. Mrs. Anderson was acting strange.

  Fortunately, Mrs. Anderson finished her breakfast a few minutes later. She took the last few bites of her muffin and pushed the crumbs to the floor, grimacing when some of them became stuck to her skirt. She kicked her legs until the skirt was clear before looking up at Jo and pressing her lips together. “If you wouldn't mind getting me back into bed, I think I would like to skip my morning tea and take a bit of a nap. I daresay having company has worn me out.” She tried to smile, but it looked more forced than genuine.

  Jo nodded and stood up. She grasped the back of Mrs. Anderson's chair and wheeled her back towards her bed. “Would you like me to change you into something more comfortable?” she asked, eyeing Mrs. Anderson's daytime wear cautiously, trying her hardest to hide the desire blooming inside of her to undress the woman and see her gentle curves once again.

  Mrs. Anderson shook her head. “I believe I will sleep just fine in this.”

  Joanna nodded and leaned down to wrap her arms around Mrs. Anderson's waist. She used all the muscles in her legs to hoist her up against her chest, and then back down onto the bed. She moved Mrs. Anderson to the very edge so that she could pull the covers up around her before scooting her back over to the center of the goose-feather mattress.

  Jo straightened back up once Mrs. Ande
rson was securely wrapped in the blankets. “Is there anything else that you need before I go?”

  Mrs. Anderson thought for a moment, her lower jaw grating back and forth as the seconds ticked by. Her cheeks grew red, and the hand that was resting above the blankets began to tremble. “Would it be possible for you to, perhaps . . . I mean, would you please . . . ” She trailed off, her flushed cheeks turning even darker.

  Jo waited for her to continue speaking, but Mrs. Anderson seemed too embarrassed to finish her thought. “Would I please what, Mrs. Anderson?”

  Mrs. Anderson grabbed the top edges of her blanket and started to fidget with them, shifting her body back in forth like a child in need of a water closet. She clicked her tongue and grabbed onto Jo's wrist again.

  It was adorable to watch, if Jo was being honest with herself. All the airs of cockiness and of being better than Jo were gone, leaving behind a scared girl too nervous to make friends on her own.

  “Do you think that you could sit with me while I fall asleep?” the woman eventually asked, her fidgeting with the blanket growing more and more continuous. “Dessie and Susanna will sometimes braid my hair to help me relax, but since you're up here . . . ”

  Mrs. Anderson trailed off again, but Jo understood what it was that the woman was asking for. Jo smiled at her and stepped away from the bed to pull up a chair. Mrs. Anderson rolled onto her side so that she was facing Jo, her left hand under her cheek and her right under her pillow. She closed her eyes and angled her head towards Jo, the rest of her body stiff.

  Jo could tell that Mrs. Anderson was uncomfortable with asking for affection, but Jo followed through with her request regardless. It was strange, massaging the scalp of a woman who less than an hour earlier acted like she hated her, but at the same time, it was nice. It had been well over a year since the last time she had an excuse to show any acts of intimacy towards a woman.

  It only took a few minutes for Mrs. Anderson’s eyes to flicker shut, but Jo sat with her for a quarter of an hour just to make sure that she would stay asleep. Once she was sure that Mrs. Anderson did not need her, Jo pulled her hands away and crept out of the bedroom as quietly as she could, blowing out the lantern on the wall and shutting the door gently behind her.

  Jo stayed quiet as she moved down the hallway and the first flight of stairs, too, but once she reached the second level, she was less concerned with her steps waking Mrs. Anderson. She wasn't sure if she would have time to read her book now that she had spent extra time in Mrs. Anderson’s room, but maybe, if she was lucky enough, she could go to town with Susanna instead of being stuck in the house, beating the rugs.

  She stopped by Dessie and Susanna's bedroom first. Susanna wasn't there, but Jo was shocked to see how much in disarray the room was. The last time she had peaked in had only been a few days prior, and the room was spotless. What in the world had the girls done to make it look so chaotic?

  Jo wasn't sure, but she knew she didn't want to stick around to find out. She shut their bedroom door and went down to the kitchen, where Dessie was still hard at work kneading the dough beneath her fingers.

  “Has Susanna left already? Mrs. Anderson is sleeping and I would like to go to town with her. Am I too late?” Jo asked, reaching across the counter to steal a bit of the bread dough. Dessie tried to slap her hand away, but Jo was too quick.

  When she put the dough in her mouth, she was alarmed by the thick, yeasty flavor the bread had taken on. She quickly spat it out into her hand before grimacing, using a piece of cheesecloth that was sitting next to Dessie to try and scrape the flavor off her tongue.

  Dessie snorted and ripped the cloth from Jo's hand. “Serves you right for trying to sample tonight's dinner,” she teased, holding the cloth in Jo's face and shaking it.

  Jo stuck her tongue out. “How was I supposed to know it'd taste like that? I've never tried bread dough before, even when I was a girl.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “No interest.”

  “Then why steal it now?”

  “Just to bother you.”

  Dessie rolled her eyes and added more flour to the dough before flipping it over and kneading the other side. “To answer your question, yes, Susanna has left already, but if you hurry you might be able to catch her. She left only a few minutes ago.”

  “Thank you!”

  Dessie hit Jo one last time before Jo darted off, giggling and wiping the flour off the side of her dress. She stopped by the mudroom near the front door to grab her boots and her peat coat before rushing out the front door.

  Her coat and boots were both damp from walking out in the snow the day before, but now, with the sun shining and melting down the white powder, she couldn't find it in herself to care. She could just barely see the silhouette of Susanna up ahead of her, but she knew that should would be able to catch up if she ran.

  “Susanna, wait for me!” she called out, lifting her skirts and leaning forward, swishing her arms and her petticoats in time with her steps. Susanna didn't seem to hear, but Jo kept on moving, shouting even louder. “Susanna!”

  Susanna stopped and looked over her shoulder. When she saw it was Jo, she waved at her before turning and walking back in the direction from which she had come. Jo slowed down to a walk and met Susanna halfway.

  “Cousin, what are you doing out in the cold?” She pulled a painted pocket watch out of one of her coat pockets. Her eyes widened when she saw the time. “Goodness me, Joanna, it's nearly time for Mrs. Anderson's tea! You must return home to her at once!” She tried to grab Jo's forearms and turn her around.

  Jo resisted and jerked her arms to free herself from Susanna's grasp. She linked their arms and started to pull Susanna in the direction of town. “Mrs. Anderson is sleeping and will not require any assistance for several hours. She told me so herself.”

  “Jo, that's just a ploy for her to find a reason to get rid of you. She will only get crueler if she thinks you are neglecting her—”

  “Trust me, Susanna, she's asleep. I spent a good portion of my morning sitting with her and toying with her hair. I promise you she was out like a light when I left.”

  Susanna had started to walk in the direction of town, but when she heard Jo's words she stopped short. “What?”

  Jo nodded and pulled on Susanna's hand again, urging her ahead. “She asked me to keep her company while she broke her fast and then to help her fall asleep. She said that Dessie and you used to do that for her frequently, back before she started to accept nurses into her home.”

  Susanna didn't stop walking but she turned her head and furrowed her brows at Jo. “She asked me to do it once, and Dessie only a few times more than that, but Jo, Mrs. Anderson hasn't requested affection from anyone since her husband and her son passed away.”

  Jo was surprised at that information, but she was determined not to let it show how special that made her feel. “Oh? Well, perhaps it was something that she just felt that she needed today.”

  “Why then did she not ask Dessie or me? I don't mean to offend, dear cousin, but she's far closer than the either of us than she is to you.”

  Jo shrugged. “I do not know why she asked me, I just know that she did.” She tried to duck her head as she felt her cheeks heat up at the memory of how soft Mrs. Anderson's curls felt with her fingers carding through them, and how beautiful and gentle she looked in her sleep.

  Susanna studied her for a moment before her eyes widened and she gasped. “Holy gee, you're sweet on her!”

  “I am not! Mrs. Anderson has been nothing but cruel to me over these last several weeks.”

  “And yet she let you play with her hair, and you accepted, even though she has not been the most pleasant to be around. Holy gee, I knew we shared similar preferences, but . . . ” She shook her head. “Just wait until Dessie hears about this.”

  “Susanna, Dessie will not hear about anything, because there is nothing to hear about,” Jo insisted, the burning in her cheeks growing hotter and her heart beating
faster.

  Susanna giggled and winked. “Whatever you say, dear cousin. Whatever you say.”

  9

  Susanna let the subject drop, but Jo couldn't help the thoughts that were running through her mind as Susanna and she finished the walk to town. Could Susanna be right? Sure, Jo found Mrs. Anderson incredibly beautiful, but for her feelings to run any deeper than mere admiration? That was blasphemy, especially considering Jo's role in Mrs. Anderson's life. It was one thing for her to love another woman, but to love another woman in a completely different social class? Why, that was unheard of.

  Jo shook her head and tried to shake the thoughts from her mind, but the harder that she tried not to think about her affections, the more treacherous and likely that attraction became. She felt like she was drowning, a situation that she had nearly experienced before in her physical life, and one that she most definitely didn't want to repeat in her emotional one.

  Jo shuddered as the memory of that unfortunate winter day came to the forefront of her mind, suddenly overwhelming all her senses. She almost wished to turn her focus back to the attraction as that awful memory overpowered every synapse firing in her brain. Matthew and she had just been children, but even now, years later as an adult, the memory felt just as real as it had the day that it happened. It terrified her down to her very core, the chilly wind of the real winter making her feel like she was back underwater.

  Matthew and Jo had spent all morning playing in the meadow that ran behind their house, building snowmen and shaping snow angels in the ground, the clouds dark and heavy overhead. They also picked the last of the berries from the blackberry brambles that lined the edge of the meadow and snacked on them until their bellies were full and their mouths were stained a deep purple from the juice, a pastime that they had indulged in every winter since they were toddlers.

  End-of-season blackberries had always been Jo's favorite. They were ripe and swollen with juice, just like they were at any other time in the season, but rather than the sweet, velvety taste that normally coated Jo's taste buds, these were tart and slightly sour. They still had a residual sweetness about them, but it was minute compared to the early-season fruit.