For Whom the Roses Grow

by Rebekah Blackmore

  Fortunately, after a minute had passed and Mrs. Anderson had calmed down from the shock of the shot, she was fine. Furious, yes, but fine.

  Jo pursed her lips and forced a smile. She had hoped it would calm Mrs. Anderson down, but all it succeeded to do was make the woman even more angry. She crossed her arms and clenched her jaw, moving forward to spit in Jo's face before settling back into her chair, her glare burning hot enough to set the room ablaze.

  Jo watched her for a moment before picking up a dry piece of toast and holding it out in Mrs. Anderson's direction. Mrs. Anderson eyed it warily before turning her nose up again.

  “Mrs. Anderson, you need to eat, or that medicine is going to upset your delicate stomach,” Jo urged, picking up a slice of peach in her other hand and holding that out as well. “If you refuse the bread, fine, but I must insist that you at least have a little of the fruit.”

  Mrs. Anderson glared for nearly another full minute before her features softened. She uncrossed her arms and reached out for the fruit, slumping into her chair as she took the first bite. “Thank you for being so concerned, Joanna,” she mumbled, looking down at the floor as she took another bite of the peach. Juice escaped from between her teeth and dribbled down her chin, pooling on her lap as she tilted her head downwards. Mrs. Anderson kept her eyes averted as she ate, but as she held her hand out for a second slice, she looked up and locked her gaze on Jo's.

  Jo was shocked to see crystalline tears coating the edges of Mrs. Anderson's lashes. She moved forward and knelt in front of the woman, crossing her arms and resting them on Mrs. Anderson's knees. “Mrs. Anderson, what is it?” she asked, reaching up and using the pad of her thumb to wipe away a fallen tear. She expected Mrs. Anderson to push her hand away, but instead she reached up and interlaced their fingers, tilting her head so that it rested more fully against Jo's palm.

  “I just wish that things were different,” Mrs. Anderson whispered, squeezing Jo's hand before turning her head and placing a gentle kiss on the inside of Jo's palm. “I desperately wish to paint again. I wish to have my old life back, with Jacob and Casey and Molly. I wish to have my garden back, and I wish to be able to move about my home on my own. I am so tired of being confined to this chair.” She kissed Jo's palm again.

  Jo's face burned, and she struggled between the desire to pull her hand away and the desire to keep it in Mrs. Anderson's grasp forever. She cleared her throat and kept her hand against Mrs. Anderson's cheek. “Doctor Lenaldi's medicine will not bring your husband or children back, ma'am, but if you take it every day, perhaps you will be able to paint and walk once again.”

  Mrs. Anderson squeezed Jo's hand again before pulling it away, her expression growing tense as Jo's hand fell to her lap. Another tear fell and she sniffed before putting her hands on the wheels of her chair, doing her best to turn herself towards the window without Jo's help.

  Jo waited patiently for Mrs. Anderson to turn fully before putting her hand back on the woman's shoulder. Mrs. Anderson let out a breath through her nose and pushed Jo away gently. “I believe that I would like to be alone now.”

  “All right, Mrs. Anderson. If that's what you really want.”

  “Please.” She wheeled herself over to the pane and leaned forward, the sunbeams bathing her strawberry hair in a warm yellow glow.

  Jo watched her sadly before gathering up what was left of Mrs. Anderson's breakfast and taking it out of the room. She took the tray all the way down to the kitchen before she let the reality of Mrs. Anderson's outburst sink in.

  She could see why Mrs. Anderson was so upset, but it was hard for her to sympathize when there was a chance for everything to go right again for her. If the medication worked the way it was supposed to, why, by the end of spring, Mrs. Anderson could be back to her old self! She could paint as often as she wanted and she could once again travel around the house. Things would be like they used to, and maybe, just maybe, she would be able to take care of herself without the help of Jo, Susanna, or Dessie.

  Jo couldn't help the sting of pain that shot through her chest at not being needed, but she did her best to ignore it. If things worked out for Mrs. Anderson, then Jo would be happy for her, no matter the cost. That was what love did, right? Made sacrifices for the good of the other person?

  Jo's mother had always told her that that was the case.

  Who knows if the medicine will even work, she reminded herself, shaking her head and putting breakfast away. She put the silver back in the cabinet, the fruit in the ice chest, and the now-soggy bread into the compost box Dessie kept for the neighboring pigs.

  Once everything was put away, Jo ignored the bubbling in her stomach and went out to the front hallway to grab her shawl. The weather had grown warm enough that her peat coat was not needed, but the wind was still chilly enough to make her shiver beneath her woolen dress and stays. Regardless, with the depression and emptiness Mrs. Anderson seemed to be facing . . . it was time.

  The garden was ready to be rebuilt.

  Jo left the mansion and made her way down the pathway that led to the garden. She could see the overgrown bushes and threads of ivy that coated every available surface up ahead of her, be it ground or the marble statues resting in the middle of the brush. There were a few bedraggled plants left from before Dessie and Susanna and let the garden lie, but the dried and rotted stalks were prone on the ground and half-eaten by pests. Jo had to take large steps just to enter the garden, and the further that she walked, the bigger the steps that she had to take.

  The closer that Jo got to the spot where Mrs. Anderson wanted her rosebushes, the more that she realized she couldn't do all the work on her own. Dessie and Susanna could do it, but Jo wasn't sure she wanted to spend hours and hours listening to the girls mocking her feelings. She would much rather do all the work herself than submit to them. She didn’t have many friends in town besides those in her household and the Martins, and even though Theresa had a beautiful garden, she was likely too busy with her babes to help Jo with a task as daunting as this. Jo stared at one of the overgrown plants before a wild thought hit her. Hattie could do it!

  Jo had only spoken to the girl a couple of times since the first time she was in the shop, but she knew enough about her to know that Hattie had a particular interest in gardening . . . and that she was done working at Marjorie's Bakery every day at one. She pulled out her pocket watch to see that it was only a few minutes past noon. If she walked quick enough, hopefully she would be able to head the girl off before she left for home.

  With that thought in mind, Jo picked up her skirts and hurried out of the garden and through the woods towards town. While she walked, Jo took notice of the way that nature was swirling around her. The snow had melted away a little over a week previously, and the first of the buds had begun to make their journey out of tree limbs. There were no flowers yet, but there were small sprouts pushing their heads out of the soil, and the grass had begun to grow in bright green patches in spots from the sun. She could hear the brook that ran between Mrs. Anderson's and the Martins' properties babbling as it ran over the rocks and roots, and the song of newly hatch birds echoing between the trees.

  Early spring was always Jo's favorite time of year. Her mother had preferred fall, and her brother loved the winter, but for Jo, there was no better time than when life was being reborn.

  Jo hummed to herself as she finished her walk, joy filling her entire being and making her blood feel warm in her veins. The further that she walked, the thinner that the throng of trees became, and the more at ease she felt. She all but forgot the tense air she had left Mrs. Anderson with, and she was revived with a newfound energy that she hadn't experienced in months.

  When Jo got to the edge of the town, however, that gentle, calm feeling that had been running through her veins dissipated completely as she saw the immense crowd that had already gathered within the town square. Men were pushing through one another to get to the saloons or the feed store, mothers were gripping the hands of th
eir sullied children and trying to keep a grip on the yards of fabric tucked into their arms, youth of all ages were running around and hiding from their parents and siblings, laughing with glee as they evaded being found, and shop venders were yelling things out and shaking products as close to their customers faces as they could manage.

  It was pure cacophony.

  Jo cringed as a balding man who smelled of decaying meat and cow manure cut in front of her, sucking in air through his nose and letting it out in a long, slimy stream of spit on the dirt in front of him. He growled a laugh when Jo wrinkled up her nose, reaching a filthy hand out to pull at the top of her skirt. “Yer far too pretty a girl to be making such an ugly face, sweetheart,” he said, winking and moving his face closer to Jo's, his foul-smelling breath washing over her nose in waves as she struggled not to gag.

  Jo tried to take a step back, but the man tightened his grip on Jo's skirt and pulled her towards him. He puckered his lips up and leaned in, making kissing noises and fluttering his eyelashes. Jo tried to move away, but the man tightened his grip and yanked hard enough to send Jo out of balance. He caught her with a hand on her waist, his eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip and pulled her closer. “It's not v'ry nice to tease, sweetheart,” he growled, tugging on Jo's skirt again and wrapping his absurdly large hand around her lower back, moving her until she was pressed flush against his chest. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Jo's, pushing in until Jo could feel his grisly tongue rubbing against the front of her teeth. It made Jo feel like vomiting, and it took all her self-restraint not to lunge forward and bite the man's tongue in half for even trying to do anything to her.

  Fortunately, it seemed that someone else had the same idea. “Get your hands off her!” a male voice yelled before the man was hoisted off her and pushed back into the crowd of people. The man let out a growl and pushed his sleeves up before deciding Jo wasn’t worth it and disappearing into the crowd.

  Jo opened her eyes to see a young man with wavy blond hair and tan, dirt-coated skin looking down at her with concern in his eyes. “Are you all right, miss?” he asked, holding out his hand for Jo to take. She pointed across the throng to Hattie's store, hoping he would understand what she was hinting at. It took a second for the man to catch on, but once he did, he gave her a smile before pulling her through the people. His hands weren’t as large as the grisly man’s, but they were large enough that he could force his way through the crowd quickly. He let go of Jo’s hand directly in front of the door to Marjorie’s Bakery. “There you are, miss, safe and sound.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Jo gave him a smile and started to walk into the bakery, but he kept her hand in his and stared at her quizzically. “What is it?”

  “I didn't get your name.” His eyes were soft, and he squeezed Jo's hand encouragingly, his soft smile growing. Jo had to admit, even though her interests fell on the other side of the spectrum, he was rather handsome.

  “It's Joanna, but most people call me Jo.”

  “Jo.” He stared at her for a moment before his eyes widened. “Oh! You are Mrs. Anderson's nurse, are you not?”

  “That would be me. How did you . . . ?” She trailed off, her brow furrowing in confusion. She wasn't anyone special, so why would this stranger know who she was? “And who are you?”

  “My apologies, Jo. My name is Nate Threadgood. I'm Hattie's brother.” He gestured with his thumb towards the glass front of Marjorie's Bakery. “I have heard a great deal about you from my sister.”

  “Oh.” Well, then. That explained that. “I'm sorry, but I can't say that I have heard about you.”

  “That doesn't surprise me. Did you come to town to see her?”

  “Yes.”

  Nate's smile grew. “Well then, don't let me keep you. Let's go.”

  13

  Nate held his hand out in the direction of Hattie's shop. Jo studied him for a minute before stepping forward and opening the door, the aroma of freshly-baked molasses cookies immediately wrapping her in its warm, spicy scent. She glanced up at the counter to see that Hattie was rolling the warm cookies in sugar crystals. There was a second young lady standing behind her with bright-red curls that rivaled Mrs. Anderson's in their attractiveness. She had fair, peaches-and-cream skin, and from what Jo could see from her profile, a shapely nose and lovely, thick lips.

  The new girl didn't so much as look up when the bell above the door let out a twinkling chime, but Hattie jerked her head up immediately, her eyes lighting up as she saw who had entered. “Jo! I wasn't expecting you today! And Nate, you weren't due to come into town until this evening!”

  Nate stepped around Jo, gently holding a hand out to block her. “Mammy asked me to get a few things for her stew this evening. I figured I would meet you and assist you home, so you didn't have to walk all that way on your own.”

  “Well I thank you, Nate, but I won't be alone. Jo here is going to walk me home, aren't you sweetheart?” She gave Jo a warm smile, reaching up and tucking a stray golden strand behind her ear. The new girl looked up for a moment before turning her eyes back down to the bread that she was kneading.

  Jo could feel her cheeks burning a bright red as she nodded. “I suppose so. Actually, Hattie, I was hoping to speak to you about gardening, if you would be amiable to stopping by Mangrove House before you make your way back home.” She gave Hattie what she thought was a hopeful smile, but it must have looked more lustful than hopeful, if the confused look Nate was giving her and the disgusted scoff from the girl behind Hattie were any indications.

  Jo immediately felt her cheeks burn hotter, and she swallowed harshly in shame. She had always been so diligent in hiding her interest in the fairer sex from anyone around her, but it seemed that the gentle beauty that Hattie exuded, while not as striking as Mrs. Anderson's, was enough to make Jo's façade falter.

  Hattie, surprisingly, didn't have any words about Jo's slip. Her smile grew and she nodded. “I'd love to, Jo. I've heard Mangrove House is lovely this time of year.” She clapped her hands on the apron covering her skirt before reaching back and untying it, barely even flinching as the powdery flour fell from the cloth and embedded itself in her pretty blue gingham dress. She put her apron under the counter and turned to look at the redheaded woman before moving towards Jo and Nate. “Alexandria, I do believe that it is time for me to take my leave. If you place that dough on the lowest coals, I daresay it will be finished by the time the workday is through.”

  “Yes, Hattie.”

  Hattie gave Alexandria one last careful glance before shaking her skirt out onto the foyer floor and making the rest of her journey to her friend and brother. She nudged Jo with her hip before smiling at her brother, crossing her eyes and making a face when he stuck his tongue out at her.

  It made Jo sick to her stomach to admit it, but she could see herself developing feelings for the pretty blonde. They were nothing compared to the devotion she had developed for Mrs. Anderson, but there were still more than just a few sparks here and there, and maybe, just maybe, if she gave those sparks a chance to ignite, then her fire for Mrs. Anderson would burn low enough to ignore.

  Jo cleared her throat and followed Hattie and Nate back out into the street. She tried to stay close to them that she wouldn't get lost, although there were quite a few moments that she thought that heavier-set city dwellers were going to make it impossible for her to see between the dozens of faces. Somehow she managed, though, and after a few minutes of getting shoved around and repeatedly elbowed in the face, Hattie, Nate, and Jo burst through the other side of the crowd.

  The moment that Hattie could get close to Jo, she linked their arms and held her hands in front of her chest. She tilted her head to the side so that Nate could kiss her goodbye on the cheek. Once he had, she returned the sentiment with a grin on her face. “Tell Mammy that I will be home in time for supper, all right?”

  “All right. See you later then, Hattie.” He tipped his head, moving his hand up to his forehead to mimic tipping his hat
at Jo. “See you around, Miss Joanna.”

  “Bye, Nate.”

  Jo expected that Hattie would want to watch her brother walk away, but the moment that Nate was gone she seemed to forget about him. She tightened how she was holding Jo's arm and began to pull her back in the direction of Mangrove House.

  At first, Jo was confused how Hattie knew where she was going without being directed, but then Jo remembered how Susanna had told her in her letters about how everyone in town knew where Mangrove House was. It has baffled her at first, but if Mrs. Anderson had once truly been as well-known as everyone had been saying that she was, it only made sense that everyone would know.

  Jo let herself be led through the forest, her steps keeping in time with Hattie's. Hattie seemed content to be quiet, too, although the sly smiles she kept sending Jo's way made it obvious that there was something that she wanted to say.

  Eventually, Jo couldn't stand the suspense any longer. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?” She turned to look at Jo, tilting her head slightly to the right and biting her lip, her eyelids low and heavy.

  Jo gestured with her hand. “Like that. Like you know something that I do not.”

  Hattie released her lip and smirked, wrinkling up her nose and squinting her eyes. “I do believe that my brother is sweet on you.”

  Jo snorted, although she was glad that all Hattie was alluding to was Nate, not the way that Jo couldn't help her eyes from wandering down to Hattie's mouth. “I have known your brother for all of five minutes.”

  “That does not matter. I saw how his gaze softened on you, right from the very start.” She winked. “Perhaps one day you will be my sister rather than just my friend.”

  “I highly doubt that.” Jo couldn't help the amused tone that had snuck into her voice.

  Hattie didn't say anything, but she did raise an eyebrow before moving her grip down from Jo's arm to her hand. She hesitated before intertwining their fingers, her eyes going back and forth between their linked hands to Jo's face.