For Whom the Roses Grow

by Rebekah Blackmore

  Jo smiled bashfully. When she saw the potted plants, she had acted on impulse and bought them before she even fully registered that she had entered the store. They were just so beautiful, the buds already dark-red and pink and white, that she had to buy two of each color. The purchase used up most of what funds she had left, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. Mrs. Anderson needed these flowers in her garden, whether she wanted them there or not.

  Dessie stared at Jo, moving her arms to her own stomach and copying Susanna’s stance. “Well? Are you going to give me a reason or not?”

  Jo didn’t answer, choosing instead to make a face at Dessie before stepping towards the fire, holding her hands out to warm them. “Has Mrs. Anderson awoken from her rest yet?” she queried, glancing over her shoulder before looking back into the fire, which had begun to turn a lovely shade of green from the moss burning off the logs.

  Dessie rolled her eyes, but did not continue to press Jo about the flowers. “Last I looked, she was still slumbering more deeply than I have seen her do in weeks. I do not know what you did to her, Jo, but whatever it was, it worked wonders. I cannot remember the last time she napped for more than mere minutes at a time.”

  Susanna came over to warm her hands as well, bumping Jo's hip with her own. She nodded at Jo before winking at Dessie. “Our little Joanna here braided Mrs. Anderson's hair like a lover until she fell asleep.”

  “I did not!” Jo protested, bumping Susanna back with a little more force than was strictly necessary. “I simply calmed her down and did as she asked me to—”

  “—and played with her hair until she fell asleep.” Susanna tilted her head in Jo's direction and raised a knowing eyebrow. Jo sighed and let her shoulders slump in defeat. She gave a small nod and grit her teeth.

  Dessie eyed the exchange curiously before her mouth dropped in shock. “Mrs. Anderson let you be close to her? She has barely let Susanna and I show any verbal affection towards her, nonetheless physical, in nearly three years!” She narrowed her eyes playfully and scrunched her nose up, moving over to Jo and lifting a curl to look at her scalp before dropping it and lifting Jo's arm, moving a hand up to her chin and tapping it like she was deep in thought. “Hmm . . . Soft brown hair and a slender waist . . . I suppose that could tempt Mrs. Anderson's lustful side . . . but the yellowed skin and threadbare clothing—”

  Jo ripped her arm from Dessie's grasp and let out a low, angry noise from the back of her throat. Dessie held her hands up in defense and took a step back. “Whoa there, Jo, I did not mean to offend. I was only playing with you; there is nothing wrong with your clothes or your skin tone at all. You are very beautiful, in fact.”

  Jo curled up her nose and put her hands on her hips, glaring at Dessie before turning her angry expression onto Susanna. Susanna had no right to tease when there was nothing to her accusations.

  Susanna bit her lip and hung her head shamefully at the heat in Jo’s expression. “I’m sorry, Jo. I did not mean to poke fun at your emotions. Like I told you when you first came to Mangrove House, Mrs. Anderson is as beautiful as she is kind, and if she has begun to show you who she truly is beneath that statuesque mask, then it’s impossible for you to not love her. That’s just the kind of person she is, Jo. She’s amazing, once you get to know her.”

  Jo knew that Susanna was only trying to make things better with her backtracking, but Jo couldn't help but feel betrayed by the way that her cousin made light of Jo's possible feelings without a second thought. When Susanna had begun to question her interest in men, Jo had not teased her. She had not teased her when Susanna developed a crush on their Sunday school teacher, Miss Maudie. She had never teased Susanna for any of her personal thoughts, so why must Susanna tease her?

  She turned on her heel and stormed upstairs, her heart thumping and her blood boiling. The further she got away from the situation, the less her anger was directed towards Dessie and Susanna. Rather, she turned it towards herself as she reflected on the way that she had acted downstairs. She didn't mean to get so angry, but it worried her, the way Mrs. Anderson was acting. It had been one thing when she thought the affection was also shared with Dessie and Susanna, but now, knowing what she did? She didn't know what to expect. If she was any other woman, Jo could easily mistake her actions as interest, but Mrs. Anderson? Jo had no idea what to make of it.

  Jo shook her head and went into her room, immediately sitting down on her bed and leaning against the wall. She debated for a moment before reaching over to grab her book from where she had left it on the nightstand. She tried to slip the front cover between her fingers so that she could pull it towards herself and pick it up, but her hands weren't nimble enough to perform such a task and she ended up shoving the tome to the floor. The sound echoed around the room as the book bounced, sounding much like a crackling fire in the frigid air.

  Jo winced and looked towards her door. She hoped that the sound hadn't woken Mrs. Anderson, and that she would be able to read in peace for just a few minutes before she had to go and tend to her mistress.

  Unfortunately, Jo only had a few seconds to pick the book back up before she heard a timid, “Joanna? Is that you?” come from down the hall.

  Jo sighed and stood up. She brushed her skirt off and adjusted her bodice before making her way into Mrs. Anderson's room. She plastered a smile onto her face and put on a façade of confidence and enthusiasm as she walked over to attend to her duties.

  “Hello, Mrs. Anderson. Did you have a nice rest?” Jo walked over to the bed and pulled the covers back to move Mrs. Anderson to her chair. Mrs. Anderson didn't protest, and allowed herself to be moved without her locked limbs putting up too much of a fight. Instead, she reached her hands up to cup Jo's shoulders, and arched her back as they moved so that Jo and she were chest to chest for five long seconds before she was sitting by herself fully.

  As Jo tucked a blanket around Mrs. Anderson's legs, she realized how late it had gotten while Mrs. Anderson napped. Jo could see the sunlight streaming in through the crack in between the drawn curtains, and she could hear Mrs. Anderson's stomach protesting its empty state with a loud roar. Mrs. Anderson pressed a hand to her stomach bashfully, her cheeks darkening until they nearly matched her hair.

  Jo's smile slipped from false to apologetic. Normally, Mrs. Anderson ate her dinner at 11:35 on the dot, but it had to be at least two p.m. already, if not later. She rushed to finish getting Mrs. Anderson settled before saying, “I bet you are more than ready for your dinner. I will go down to the kitchen and fetch some bread and fruit. I know it is not as lavish as you normally eat, but—”

  “There is no need to explain yourself,” Mrs. Anderson interrupted, holding a hand up to silence Jo. Jo closed her mouth immediately and stood up straight, linking her hands behind her back and moving her feet to hip-width apart. Mrs. Anderson studied her before sitting up straighter. She held out an arm towards Jo, who looked at it in confusion. Mrs. Anderson sighed. “Come here, Joanna. Your hair is a catastrophe.”

  Jo raised a hand and patted the top of her head. She hadn't thought about redoing her hair before she left her room and, sure enough, she could feel the curls escaping from her bun and pooling out around her face. Her cheeks darkened, and she tried to fix it herself.

  Mrs. Anderson watched Jo's movements in amusement before leaning forward as far as she could and grasping the fullest part of Jo's skirt. She gave it a few yanks before Jo gave in and let herself be moved over. She sat down on the edge of Mrs. Anderson's bed and tilted her chin own towards her chest, putting the messiest part fully on display for Mrs. Anderson’s viewing.

  Mrs. Anderson licked the tip of her fingers and began to smooth Jo's hair down against the top of her head. She pulled the front strands down and twisted them around her finger until they were springy and shapely, a soft smile gracing her lips as they formed a proper spiral. She let them fall against Jo's cheeks, the tips of her fingers brushing against the crest of Jo's cheekbones.

  Jo tried not to
swallow too forcefully at the tickling feeling.

  Mrs. Anderson played with the curls for a few more seconds before she let her hand drop, her smile growing. “There. That's much better.”

  Jo clenched her teeth nervously and nodded, trying to stop the way her jaw started to quiver. “Yes, thank you, ma'am. Would you like your dinner now?”

  “Yes, dear. Bread and fruit will be fine.”

  “All right.” Jo pursed her lips and nodded before turning on her heel and escaping the room as quickly as she could. When she got to the hallway, she made sure that she was far enough away from Mrs. Anderson that she wouldn't be noticed before leaning against the wall and letting out a long breath. She pressed the tips of her fingers against her chest and leaned forward, trying to calm her racing heart.

  Jo stood still for several minutes until she felt more peaceful, her breathing slowing down to a normal rate and the rushing in her ears silenced. She went back down to the kitchen, where Dessie and Susanna were still visiting.

  Unsurprisingly, Dessie was already beginning to chop up the herbs and spices for Mrs. Anderson's supper, the smell of freshly baked bread lingering around the hearth. Susanna was standing next to the stove with her back towards Jo, stirring chunks of chicken with a few different kinds of vegetables in a large iron pot.

  When Jo reached across the counter to grab the still-warm loaf, Dessie startled before pressing her hand to her shoulder. “Gracious me, Joanna, I did not see you there!”

  Susanna looked over her shoulder before spinning around. She had an apologetic look on her face, although it was impossible to tell whether that was from her ruthless teasing earlier, or from the way that her wooden spoon was dripping pig fat on the hem of her lover's dress.

  Susanna tried to reach out to Jo as she moved towards her, but Jo wouldn't have it. She took a step back and crossed her arms, rocking back onto her heels so that her message of staying away was clear. She purposely ignored the hurt look on Susanna's face as she turned her attention back to Dessie. “Mrs. Anderson has requested fruit and bread for her afternoon meal.”

  Dessie reached over and squeezed Susanna's hand, turning to give her a small smile before looking at the loaf that was cooling on the stove. She picked it up and used a knife that looked like it had been crafted by a gifted blacksmith to slice the bread.

  Dessie separated a thick slice from the end and placed it on a wooden plate before getting the butter Jo had churned the night before. She used the same knife to scoop out some of the butter and to lather it onto the crust in a thick layer.

  While Dessie worked on the bread, Jo went over to the cabinet and grabbed the basket of blackberries that Susanna always kept on hand. They had been dusted with a light coat of sugar, making the berries rich and sticky with their delectable juices, something that Jo had learned through observation was one of Mrs. Anderson's favorite things to eat. She scooped them into a porcelain bowl and added a pinch more sugar before putting the dish alongside the bread.

  “Thank you,” Jo said, picking up the tray and balancing it on her forearms. She stared at the tray for a moment before realizing that it looked incomplete. There was plenty of food for Mrs. Anderson, but there was something else that was necessary to make the meal.

  She had left the box from Marjorie’s Bakery on the corner of the counter when Susanna and she had gotten home, so it was easy for her to open it and get out two of the beautiful wax roses. She laid them across the top of the plate before moving them to the side and placing the stems below the blackberry dish.

  There. Now the tray looked complete.

  Dessie gasped when she saw the flowers. “And what, pray tell, are those?”

  Jo rolled her eyes. She was sure Dessie could figure that out on her own.

  As she walked out of the kitchen, Jo could hear Dessie and Susanna talking about the preserved gift, but Jo blocked the noise out. There was nothing wrong with her buying something pretty for her mistress, especially considering how dull and dreary the rest of the house looked. Besides, since the flowers were coated with wax, they would stay lovely a lot longer than a cut stem would, letting Mrs. Anderson have something beautiful to look at for more than just a few days.

  Mrs. Anderson had moved her chair over to the window when Jo walked into the room. She looked over and patted her lap, signaling where she wanted her dinner to be placed. “Come here, Joanna. I want to show you something.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jo did as she was asked and walked over. She put the tray on Mrs. Anderson's lap and gave her a polished fork for the blackberries before sitting on the padded windowsill next to Mrs. Anderson. She glanced out the window, but she didn't see anything particularly exciting. Yes, the grounds were beautiful, albeit overgrown, and the patina-colored fountain that was in the garden had grown rusty where water had once rested. Jo could see the spots in which the most beautiful of Mrs. Anderson's plants had once thrived, now gray and barren above the malnourished soil. There was a tree in the corner of the garden that looked as though it had begun to grow heavy with fruit, but something had clearly chewed its way through several of the underdeveloped apples. Perhaps that was what Mrs. Anderson wanted her to see.

  “Would you like one of us girls to go to town and pick up some traps for you? I know it will not bring back the fruit you have already lost, but it may help save the rest.”

  Mrs. Anderson furrowed her brows and turned to look at Jo, her lower lip jutting out and her hands gripping the arms of her chair tightly. “What are you talking about, dear girl?”

  Jo pointed towards the tree. “The half-eaten apples. Isn't that what you wanted to show me?”

  “Heavens, no. Besides, what use do I have with a few measly apples? Dessie and Susanna both know I hate the things.” She shook her head and pointed to a corner of the garden that was deeply overgrown, a weeping angel statue in the middle looking like it was emerging from a storm of green. “Plant the roses there.”

  Jo startled. She hadn't realized that Mrs. Anderson had been looking out the window when Susanna and she had arrived home. “Pardon?”

  “I think I like the white ones the best. Jacob always bought me red, but they were never as exquisite as the white ones that I bought myself.” She looked down at her tray and gasped as she finally saw the wax-dipped roses. She picked one up between her fingers and studied it, her face lighting up. “Joanna, these are lovely. Thank you so much.”

  Jo blushed at the gratitude. She didn't know what to say, so she covered up her bashfulness by gesturing wildly at the tray on Mrs. Anderson's lap. “I hope this is enough to tide you over, I felt unsure about the proper amount to give you for it being such a late dinner and with supper just around the bend—”

  “Joanna,” Mrs. Anderson interrupted, reaching out and placing her hand over Jo's, “this will be more than enough for me. Why, when I was a girl, my meals were scarcely more than this at times. A proper lady must eat daintily when in the presence of guests, you know. One cannot be seen stuffing their faces full of delectable meats and desserts, no matter how much she may want to.” She winked, squeezing Jo’s hand.

  Jo nodded and pulled her hand from Mrs. Anderson’s. She understood what Mrs. Anderson was talking about, although she had never had to follow those practices. Her mother couldn’t have cared less about how Jo ate or how “ladylike” she was, as long as she was educated, well-read, and happy at the end of the day. Jo watched Mrs. Anderson eat for a few moments before she realized that she was staring. She cleared her throat nervously and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Mrs. Anderson, if you are satisfied with your meal, I best be getting back to helping Susanna and Dessie prepare supper.”

  “All right, dear. Take your time.”

  Jo forced a smile before turning and heading towards the door.

  She had just stepped into the hallway when she heard Mrs. Anderson call for her again. “Oh, and Joanna? Tonight, I would like to dine downstairs. I say it is about time that I leave this room.”

&
nbsp; 11

  “I cannot believe you got Mrs. Anderson to come down for dinner,” Dessie huffed, grimacing as her back popped. She straightened her posture the best she could, adjusting her grip below Mrs. Anderson's knee and her upper back so that the older woman was more fully situated in-between Dessie and Jo's arms. They had made it to the second floor without dropping her, but now, with both women’s arms growing weary, it was a struggle not to send Mrs. Anderson plummeting down the stairs. Susanna was behind Dessie and Jo, but with her arms full of Mrs. Anderson's chair, she wouldn’t be much help if Jo or Dessie slipped.

  Jo adjusted her hold on Mrs. Anderson as well, hooking her arm around Mrs. Anderson's lower back. Her hand rested on the smallest part of the woman's waist, a realization that made Jo's cheeks burn bashfully. She had had her hand pressed against the front of Mrs. Anderson’s corset, but she had quickly learned that she was unable to have much leverage without her hand being properly wrapped around something.

  Mrs. Anderson seemed to care less about where the girls’ hands were than she did about Dessie’s words, her eyes narrowing as she lifted a hand to lightly snack the back of Dessie's head. “I can hear you, you know. I am more than capable of making these kinds of decisions on my own, and tonight, I have decided I wish to dine with proper company. You will respect my wishes and cease your mockery of my actions”

  “Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma’am.” Dessie shot Jo a look over the top of Mrs. Anderson's head, a look of confusion in her eyes. It was clear that she was still puzzled by Mrs. Anderson’s sudden change of heart. Jo shrugged as well as she could in her current situation, her stomach bubbling as the movement caused Mrs. Anderson to rest more fully against Jo's chest. She couldn’t say that she knew why Mrs. Anderson had decided to dine in the main wing of the house, either.

  Regardless, Dessie and she had to listen to Mrs. Anderson’s orders. It took several minutes for the girls to get Mrs. Anderson all the way down to the dining room, and they were exhausted by the time that they were done. Jo didn’t know what the other girls were thinking, but she, at least, could barely stomach the idea of eating and going to bed, nonetheless eating and carrying Mrs. Anderson back up all those stairs.