Once again, there was no response. The longer that Mrs. Anderson was silent, the more and more Jo's stomach twisted around itself. What if something was seriously wrong with her, and no one could get in? Mrs. Anderson could be——God forbid——dying and no one would be any the wiser.
Jo let out a whimper before turning around and running back to the staircase and down to the second level, nearly tripping in her haste to get to Susanna's bedchamber (the one she had been sharing with Dessie) to wake her in hopes that she would know what to do. She swung around the banister and nearly slipped, her stocking feet gliding against the hardwood floor without a trace of friction. She took half a second to right herself and took off down the rest of the hallway, sliding to a stop right in front of Susanna’s door.
Susanna, of course, was still sleeping, so when Jo threw open the door and launched herself at the bed, Susanna let out a great shriek and kicked Jo squarely in the chest before sitting up in fright. It hurt, but Jo ground her teeth and spoke through the pain. “Do you know where Dessie kept the key to get into Mrs. Anderson's room?”
Susanna squinted through the darkness at Jo before her eyes widened, realizing it was her cousin in front of her. “Jo? What time is it?”
“That does not matter right now. Do you know where the key is?”
“What are you——”
“The key!” Jo reached out and grabbed Susanna by her upper arms, shaking her lightly and letting out a growl when Susanna gave her a blank look, barely visible in the moonlight streaming through the window. “I need the key to Mrs. Anderson's room.”
“If I had the key, I would have unlocked Mrs. Anderson’s room by now. Go back to sleep, Joanna, you're speaking nonsense.” She let out a yawn and lied back down, pulling the covers up to her neck and snuggling in to the pillow that Dessie had been using only days before.
Jo let out a growl as she realized that Susanna was not going to be any help to her, at least not at this hour. She had to find a different way for her to get into the bedroom. She didn’t have the luxury of waiting any longer, not when Mrs. Anderson had called out for her only moments before falling silent. She could keep trying to ram the door, but she sincerely doubted it would do her any good if it hadn’t worked already. She could search the whole house for the key, but that could take hours, and there was always the chance that Dessie had it on her person . . . Jo didn’t know what to do. Clearly she did not have the strength to open the door herself, and if she didn't have a key . . .
Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. Jo couldn't move the door on her own, but there was someone who could.
Jo bit her lip and ran back up to her room, removing her nightdress as quickly as she could and changing into a more proper attire. She may be in a hurry, but did not wish to make herself fall ill from the early spring chill. If something grave had truly befallen Mrs. Anderson then Jo needed to be there to take care of her, and she couldn’t do that if she was sick, herself.
Jo swallowed thickly and blinked back the tears that were beginning to press against the corners of her eyes. She didn't know what she would do if that fight was the last conversation they had, and if Mrs. Anderson passed on thinking that her love for Jo was one-sided. That would break Jo’s heart.
Jo finished getting dressed and hurried downstairs and out the door, running out of the house and across the grounds, her heart thumping wildly as she tried to remember how exactly to get to Will and Theresa's home. She knew that she had to go through the woods, and that she had to make a left somewhere along the path . . . but where, exactly, she could not recall. Last time, however, she had only found the house when she was lost, so maybe she needed to get lost again.
Jo closed her eyes and took a deep breath before taking off in the first direction her toes were pointed. She lifted her skirts and ran, stepping over branches and divots as best she could. It was nearly impossible to see (the trees were far too thick for the moonlight to stream through), but she did her best to feel out her surroundings before she made any steps.
The further into the woods that Jo got, the colder she felt, the wind trapped between the trees spinning and dancing around and wrapping itself around her. Her corset kept her torso warm, but her legs, bare beneath her petticoats and her gown, quickly became pebbled with goose pimples. Her arms were toasty within her woolen sleeves, but her hands were growing more and more tingly with every minute passing by.
Jo startled as something moved in the forest a few feet away from her. She pulled her sleeves down over had hands and dug her nails into the fabric, trying to keep her breathing calm and steady. If it was some sort of wild animal, it wouldn't do any good for her to give it any more reason to attack.
Jo clenched her teeth and took a few deep breaths through her nose before wringing her hands in front of her waist. She locked and unlocked her fingers, making sure to keep her eyes trained forward until she knew for sure what she was up against. Things would go better if she didn’t focus too much on her surroundings, and perhaps if she ignored her fear long enough, it would cease to exist. Being afraid would not do anything to help Mrs. Anderson get better,
Soon enough the rustling sound went away, and Jo let out a sigh of relief. She could see squirrels and birds moving from tree to tree, but she did not mind, grateful to seeing the creatures instead of just hearing their mischievous footsteps. She released her hands and let them dangle by her side, beginning to hum a tune to herself as she tried to will her footsteps follow whatever path she had made last time.
Jo turned her mind to the things that she was going to tell Mrs. Anderson if—no, when—she got better. Jo would do whatever it took to ensure that the older woman felt 100 percent, and then she would pull her in her arms and just hold her. She would stroke her hair and kiss her forehead, whispering to her how much she loved and adored her and how beautiful she was. She was going to make Mrs. Anderson feel wanted, and she was going to do whatever it took to prove to her that she was the center of Jo's universe.
She just had to figure out how to approach the subject of Hattie.
Regardless of whatever they discussed, though, Jo wasn't going to keep this inside of herself anymore. If things didn't work out, and Mrs. Anderson succumbed to her disease . . .
No. Jo wasn't going to think like that.
Besides, Will and Theresa's house was finally in view.
17
Across the yard from the woods, Will and Theresa’s house stood tall, silhouetted by the moonlight. All the windows were dark except for one on the top floor, the reflection of a low-burning candle flickering against the glass pane. Jo couldn’t tell what room it was, but based off the partial shadow she could see behind the candle, it seemed likely that Theresa was awake.
Jo picked up her skirts and hurried through the brambles, doing her best not to step on any of Theresa’s produce or the lovely flowers that had begun to sprout up through the packed dirt. She kept her eyes focused on the door, counting to ten over and over to try and stay calm. She had to get Will to go back to the house with her to break down the door, and she needed someone to go get Doctor Lenaldi . . . she could go do that herself once she saw Mrs. Anderson, if she had to, or Susanna could, but Jo needed a strong, heavier-set person to make the door give.
In a matter of minutes, Jo had managed to make it across the yard and up to the front door. She flung herself at the door and begun to knock, making a fist and using the side of her hand to bang on the wood. “Will, Theresa! It’s an emergency!” she yelled, digging her nails into her palms and knocking harder.
When no response came, Jo let out a whimper before trying again. “Please, anybody! I need help!” She uncurled her fingers and began to hit the door with her palm. “Will! Theresa!”
The door swung open to reveal the silhouetted woman. Shockingly, it was Dessie standing in front of her, not Theresa. Briefly. Jo felt a surge of rage deep in her belly, but she was too worried about losing Mrs. Anderson to feel anger at the girl who had betrayed her cousin fo
r more than a few second. Fresh tears began to stream down her cheeks, and she threw herself forward into Dessie’s arms. “Mrs. Anderson is very ill,” she sobbed, burying her face in the other girl’s yellow gingham dress and soaking her shoulder. “She has let neither Susanna nor I into her room since you left. She has refused to take her medication. Oh, please, Dessie, you have to help me.”
Before Dessie could respond, a door opened from the upper level. Someone started to walk down the stairs, but it was too dark for Jo to see who it was. “Dessie, is everything all right? Hello, Joanna.”
It was Theresa. She had a blue floral night-jacket draped over her nightgown, and she had very clearly just woken up. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her eyes were puffy and red. Her stomach was gently protruding from beneath the sash of the robe, and the way that she rocked her weight back onto her heels made it obvious to Jo that Theresa was very much in the family way. Immediately, Jo felt bad about pulling Theresa out of bed to help with Mrs. Anderson, especially with in her condition, but she knew that there was nothing else that could have been done. She couldn’t save Mrs. Anderson on her own.
Jo stepped around Dessie and started up the staircase. “Please, Theresa. Mrs. Anderson has fallen greatly ill, and I cannot get into her room to attend to her. I need Will’s help in forcing the door open.” Her tears ran over her cheeks and dripped down onto Theresa’s hand when Jo reached out to grasp it. “I know it’s late, but please, Theresa. I need your help.”
As soon as Jo had said that Mrs. Anderson was ill, Theresa’s eyes had grown wide. By the time that Jo had finished asking for help, she had already begun to retreat upstairs with a look of determination in her eyes. She pulled her hand out of Jo’s grasp and turned on her heel. “William!” she yelled, lifting her skirt and placing a hand below her belly to support the weight. “I need you!”
There was a sleepy groan from what Jo assumed was the bedroom before Will groaned, “Can’t it wait until morning?”
“It’s an emergency, Will! I need you now!”
There must have been something about the urgency of Theresa’s voice that alerted Will to the gravity of the situation, as there was suddenly a loud clanging noise before Will tripped into the hallway, his hair a mess and lines from his pillow carved deep into his cheeks. He had a look of panic in his eyes, and he looked back and forth between Theresa’s belly and her face. Theresa’s hand rubbed circles into the top of her belly as she spoke again. “Will, something has happened to Cordelia. I do not know what, or how, but I need you to go with Jo back to the Mangrove House.”
Will looked puzzled, but the look of fear didn’t leave his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with you nor the baby?” Theresa shook her head. Will’s shoulders visibly sagged with relief before his expression grew cloudy again. He looked at Jo. “Something happened to Cordelia, you said? Is she all right?”
Jo shook her head. “I do not know, sir. Susanna and I cannot get into her room. I was hoping you could help me open her door.” She let out a breath through her nose and swallowed, wincing as the movement made her throat feel as though it had been encrusted with stinging nettles. “It has been three days since I saw or heard from her last.”
Will nodded, but he did not say anything else. He hesitated for a moment before running back up to Theresa’s and his bedroom. At first, Jo felt upset and angry that he would turn away in the face of danger, but when she heard the telltale sound of a zipper being zipped and an armoire being closed, she realized that he had only left to get himself dressed. He emerged less than a minute later in a dusty-blue button down and a pair of khaki trousers. He reached a hand up to ruffle his hair as he came back to stand next to his wife, his cheeks flushing red from the effort he had made to get ready in so little time. He kissed Theresa on the cheek before moving down, grabbing Jo and Dessie’s hands and pulling them down the stairs and out of the house. He led them to his carriage, hoisting them up before climbing into the front seat and whipping the reigns, starting the horse and pushing it into action.
The movement of the carriage pulled Jo back into the present, and she remembered with a start the anger that she was feeling towards Dessie. It was strong enough of an emotion to pause her worrying, and appeared so quickly that Jo grew accusatory. Before she had the chance to think about what she was saying, she blurted out, “Why did you leave Susanna that letter? If you were so unhappy with your life at Mangrove House, you could have just spoken to her. You did not have to break her heart and leave.”
Dessie snapped her head in Jo’s direction, looking at her with furrowed brows and a jutted-out lower lip. “What letter? I told Susanna that Millie was sick, and that Theresa needed my help with watching Leslie and Theo while she heals. I made sure she knew.”
“The one you left in her bedroom. The one she stays in when your mother is around.”
Dessie’s brows furrowed further. “Jo, I know not of what letter you speak of. I did not write any letter. Besides, I am happy at Mangrove House, even if Mrs. Anderson is a bit of a pill at times. I love Susanna and I love Mrs. Anderson, at least when she is being pleasant.”
“That is not what the letter said. That is not what Susanna thinks.” Her stomach began to coil as the gardens of Mangrove House began to come into view. She shivered and tried to quell the wave of anxious nausea that rose in her chest, closing her eyes and silently counting to ten before opening her eyes again and staring back at the house, where several lanterns had been turned on.
Clearly, in Jo’s absence, Susanna had woken fully.
Dessie, it seemed, noticed the glow as well. Before Jo had time to say otherwise, Dessie reached across the seat and took her hand, interlacing their fingers and clutching her palm desperately. Her eyes had a wild look to them as she yanked on Jo’s arm. “Jo, what did the letter say? What does Sussie think I’ve done?”
Jo thought back to her conversation with Susanna, trying to pull her hand back from Dessie in disgust. Dessie held on tighter. “I cannot recall exactly, other than that you were no longer happy with your life together and that you wished for the relationship between you two to be over. Susanna was crushed.”
Dessie let out a gasp and raised a hand to her mouth, her eyes immediately going glassy and tears springing up along her lashes. “Jo, no. I love Susanna. I want to commit to her, not separate myself from her. Oh, God, you have to believe me.” She hiccupped as the tears began to fall. She moved Jo’s hand up to her chest, wrapping her other hand around Jo’s fingers and squeezing. “Does she hate me?”
“Susanna could never hate you.” She tried to pull her hand out again. This time, she was successful. She scooted away from Dessie and folded her hands in her lap, waves of panic washing back over her and making her all but forget her anger as Will finally pulled the carriage to a stop next to the front steps. He jumped to the ground and tied the reigns around a hitching post so the horses wouldn’t wander off before moving back to help Dessie and Jo down, mumbling to himself about breaking the door down.
The moment that Jo’s feet hit the ground, she grabbed Will’s hand and pulled him up the stairs and into the house, rushing past Susanna without a word. Her chest felt tight as she ran up to the third level, but she didn’t dare stop for a break. She could hear Will panting, but he seemed to have the same mindset. He gripped Jo’s hand back tightly so that they wouldn’t get separated, and listened to every instruction Jo gave him about which steps to take and which ones to step over. When they got to the third floor, Jo led him to Mrs. Anderson’s door, her heart racing as she prayed that they weren’t too late.
“This is her room,” she said softly, pressing her fingertips against the wood before leaning in and pressing her ear against it. Just like before, there was absolute silence from the room. Mrs. Anderson was not a loud breather by any means, especially in her sleep, but she generally moved around enough that Jo could hear her from down the hall. She had become especially in-tune with the woman’s movements after she realized the love that sh
e felt for her, but even prior to that, Jo could always tell what kind of evening it was that Mrs. Anderson was having. In the three days since their fight, Mrs. Anderson had been moving nearly constantly, and likely hadn’t gotten any sleep since they had last spoken. Now, though, she wasn’t even shifting around, and that awful cough she had had in the morning was gone. Jo couldn’t help but whimper in fear at what that silence meant.
Will looked like he had the same concern. “And you are certain that she is in here? Cordelia couldn’t have wandered off and gotten lost somewhere else in the house?”
Before Jo could answer, Dessie and Susanna showed up at the top of the stairs. “She cannot leave her room,” Dessie said sadly, shaking her head when Will looked over at her. “She is confined to her chair, and the difference in wood grain makes it impossible for her to get into the hallway unless one of us girls moves her.” She bit her lip. “Besides, Jo would know better than anyone where she is.”
Jo’s cheeks burned at Dessie’s words, but she fought not to let her embarrassment show. “Please, Will. Just open the door and let us in.”
Will sputtered and flinched, his hands jerking around as he tried to figure out what to do. His forehead was beginning to break out with little dots of sweat, and his cheeks grew flushed as he took hard breaths in and out through his nose. After almost a full minute, however, he seemed to come to the same solution that Jo had: the door needed to be broken down.
“Stand back,” he said to the girls, calming his jerky movements and holding his hands out defensively to the side of him before walking backwards toward the stairs. He made it halfway down the hallway before he changed directions, turning his body to the side as he barreled into the door with his shoulder. At first it looked like he was going to bounce and that the door was going to remain shut, but at the last moment he decided to angle his foot so that the sole was facing the door. The combined force was enough to pop the door off its hinges, and Will stumbled over the wood into Mrs. Anderson’s room, the girls close behind.
For Whom the Roses Grow Page 14