Winters’ Rose
Melissa Lynne Blue
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Winter’s Rose
Copyright © 2020 by Melissa Lynne Blue
Cover Design by Rae Monet
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
Dedication
In loving memory of Dr. Gerry L. Mayer. Wonderful grandfather and talented physician
One
South Carolina Coast
May, 1861
Jack Winters glared at the pine box resting stoically in the cold dark ground.
Life wasn’t fair.
He and his twin brother, Paul, had joined the army one week ago with dreams of adventure and glory, but instead of facing Yankees side by side, Jack was placing Paul in the ground.
Every fiber of his being protested at the sight. “This is bloody wrong,” he muttered under his breath. The real fighting hadn’t even begun! Paul had broken his neck in a training accident.
Training… Jack thought sardonically. As if the incident could even be considered training. Paul had tumbled rather comically from his mount while showing off for a cluster of ladies. Guilt twisted in Jack’s gut. He’d laughed when his brother had hit the ground. Laughed! That was the worst of it. The tumble had seemed so innocent. The whole company—even those fine ladies—had roared with laughter. Jack swallowed hard, trying to shove back the vision of Paul’s broken neck.
Anger and denial threatened to consume him as he dragged his gaze up from the coffin. This couldn’t be real. None of it could be real. Jack had never known a world without Paul in it. For all their differences, his twin had always been there. Even when Jack had attended the Medical College of South Carolina Paul had visited frequently. They’d shared a kinship few brothers were fortunate to have.
“Colonel and Mrs. Winters,” the minister extended a hand toward Jack’s parents, indicating it was time for them to toss the first handful of dirt into the grave.
His mother, face drawn and pale, glanced up at his father. Their eyes locked for a moment and then she nodded almost imperceptibly. Grim faced, Jack’s father stepped back and approached Rose Harrison, Paul’s would be bride.
Jack’s heart clenched at the sight of her. Tears streamed from puffy, red-rimmed eyes, and the girl shook visibly as silent sobs wracked her body.
“Come along, my dear.” Jack’s father placed a gentle hand on her arm and urged her forward.
Rose lifted her gaze to his father’s and drew a shuddering breath. Hesitantly she stepped forward, shuffling past Jack to the steep edge of the grave. Her arm brushed against his, and he’d swear he felt her pain in that moment. Pain that matched his own. Shakily, she bent to lift a handful of dirt. For a long while she simply stared at the sod before extending her arm and letting the earth rain in a thin veil onto the coffin lid.
Jack’s heartbeat hammered in his ears, drowning out every other sound as the dirt slid definitively from Rose’s hand. God help him… he couldn’t bear to watch. Instead his gaze slid to Rose. The poor girl. By all appearances it seemed she would simply fall to dust by the gravesite. She teetered as her arm fell back to her side, and, on pure instinct, Jack stepped forward and slipped a sheltering… steadying… arm around her.
Slowly, as though surprised by the touch, she tilted her face to his and her haunted pale blue eyes met with his. Fresh tears splashed onto her cheeks as she all but collapsed into his chest, trembling and utterly broken. A surge of protective tenderness surged through Jack as he curled both arms around her, pulling her close. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, Jack scarcely heard a word of the minister’s closing prayer. Instead, he and Rose found a brief measure of solace in each others embrace.
“Amen,” the crowd said collectively. People began to shuffle around them, murmuring and offering up condolences to Jack’s parents.
Rose was the first to pull away. She sniffled and tapped the wet spot her tears had created on his lapel. “I-I think I ruined your jacket.”
Jack shrugged indifferently, lifting a hand to brush a wisp of blonde hair from her smooth cheek. “I never plan to wear it again. Maybe I’ll toss it in with Paul.” Jack dropped his arm from her slight waist. “Will you be all right?”
She didn’t readily answer, instead shifting her gaze away from his. He’d swear a flicker of fear flashed through her eyes.
A hand clapped down on Jack’s shoulder, interrupting the tender moment. “Dr. Winters, I’m terribly sorry for your loss,” a male voice said. “Paul was one of a kind.”
Caught off guard, Jack forced his gaze away from Rose, and cleared his throat. He turned to face Tom Butler, an acquaintance of the family that Jack had never known particularly well. “Uh, yes. Yes, he was. Thank you for coming today.” Jack shook Tom’s outstretched hand.
As soon as Tom’s hand fell away another issued forth to take its place… and then another… and another… The stream of well-wishers seemed endless. Suddenly overwhelmed and restless with the need to be alone in his grief, Jack backed away from the crowd, wending through the tombstones toward the back of the cemetery, lost in thought.
He sighed weightily. He was a physician, and had more intimate experience with death than most men of his twenty-five years, but in the last two days he’d come to an entirely new understanding of loss.
“Jack!”
Internally he groaned, hunching his shoulders and striding on. He pretended not to hear his father’s call.
“Hold up, Jackie!”
Recognizing the persistence in his father’s voice, Jack trudged to a halt and turned slowly.
His father, Colonel John Winters, strode haltingly forward and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry, my boy.” Moisture gathered in the corners of his father’s eyes. “Damned horrible day this is.”
Jack gulped around the lump rising in his throat and nodded stiffly. He had no words for his father. Horrible was the sum of it.
His father washed a palm over his face, weathered after twenty years in the cavalry, and glanced back toward the gravesite. Jack followed his gaze, watching as Rose and his mother hovered arm in arm beside the gaping hole in the earth. His heart twisted with the memory of holding Rose trembling and emotionally shattered in his arms. He’d be sure to call on her before riding out. See how she was getting on.
“Hell,” his father muttered under his breath. “Jackie, there is no easy way for me to say this, but some distressing news came to my attention just this morning.”
Jack’s heart dropped. He couldn’t begin to imagine what could be more distressing than Paul’s funeral.
“It…” his father cleared his throat, and shuffled uncomfortably. “It seems Rose is carrying your brother’s child.”
Shock rocketed through Jack and he released his breath in a rush. “Jesus,” he muttered, glancing to Rose’s black clad figure once more. A pregnancy certainly explained the total devastation he’d witnessed in the girl. “That is unfortunate.”
His father sighed. “I quite agree.”
Jack looked back to his father. “What will she do? Old Doc Harrison is a mean drunk.” Jack had trained under him for a few months after completing medical school. Oddly enough, it was how Paul and Rose had met. “He might just kill her once he learns the truth.”
“He might,” his father said calmly, “or…”
“Or?”
“No one ever has to know.”
Jack raised a questioning brow. “I don�
��t follow?”
His father stared firmly into his eyes, gaze deadly serious. “You are going to marry her, Jackie.”
Jack took a healthy step backward, nearly tripping over a tombstone. “The hell I am.” Panic consumed him as his entire being rejected the idea.
His father cautiously extended a hand. “Jackie—”
“No. That is not fair. You cannot expect me to sacrifice my entire future because that girl couldn’t keep her legs closed.” He stalked away from his father, wanting to bolt. Any tenderness he may have felt for Rose evaporated as the metaphorical noose slipped around his neck.
“So you would leave your brother’s child to a bastard’s stigma and ruin?” His father’s stern voice followed him.
“Don’t put this on me,” Jack replied. “This isn’t my problem.”
Disappointment and anger kindled in his father’s dark eyes. “You are a better man than that, Jackie.”
“No. I’m not,” he replied frankly.
His father stalked forward, brow furrowed. “I raised you better.”
Defensive anger flashed through Jack. “You may have raised me better, but you sure as hell failed miserably with Paul. I’ve been cleaning up his messes since he was old enough to get into trouble.” Jack shook his head. “Not this time. Find another way.” He turned on a heel and strode defiantly away from his father.
“There is no other option, Jackie. Please—”
“No.” Jack didn’t even glance over his shoulder as he cut across the cemetery and jumped the wrought iron fence. Once outside the fence he turned and called back to his father, “The subject is closed for discussion.”
TWO
Haunted by the events and revelations of the day, Jack paced the dimly lit office in the back of his clinic. He’d come there to be alone and to lose himself in a bit of normalcy. Unfortunately, the familiar surroundings did little to ease his roiling emotions. He grabbed up the whiskey bottle resting on the smooth oak desktop, and knocked one of his medical textbooks to the floor in the process. Uncaring, he stepped over the book and took another long drag of whiskey. He’d downed nearly half the bottle in the last few hours, but the liquor had done little to numb his pain.
You are a better man than that, Jackie… his father’s statement refused to give him peace.
Guilt tugged at his sense of honor. Am I? Jack stopped in his tracks and took another swig of the whiskey. He supposed he was. At the moment he didn’t want to be. He exhaled and closed his eyes. The room spun a bit. He snapped his eyes open and grabbed the edge of the desk for balance.
“Damn it, Paul,” he muttered. Anger welled up inside him along with the impulse to slam a fist into his brother’s nose. A wave of sadness quickly followed. He’d never have the chance to speak with his twin again, much less bash him in the face for some act of stupidity or another. He sighed, shoulders slumping with defeat.
A rap on the back door interrupted his heavy thoughts.
“I’m not available to see patients tonight,” he barked, speech more than a little slurred. “Go find Dr. Langston.”
“Jack, it’s Mother. C-can I come in?”
He didn’t respond. He knew damn well why she’d come.
After a few seconds the doorknob rattled. “Are you all right?” she called in a strained tone. “I know you’re in there. We missed you at the reception.”
Jack grumbled under his breath and set the whiskey bottle back on his desk. “I’m fine, mother,” he returned, trudging to the door, gait unsteady after imbibing so much liquor. He fumbled with the lock, and finally opened the door to allow his mother admittance. “I just wanted to be alone.”
She stepped into the softly lit office and pursed her lips, disapproval lined her face. “I understand,” she murmured. “You and Paul were inseparable as boys.”
Jack didn’t respond. He had nothing to say. Quite frankly he didn’t want to talk about it. He wasn’t ready. Tonight he wanted nothing more than to drink until he forgot his own name.
“Your father told me that you and he disagreed about the circumstances with Rose.”
Jack tensed. “Is that why you’re here?” Everyone knew he could deny his mother nothing. “To force the issue of my marrying Rose?” Well, not this time. He wasn’t about to get himself leg-shackled for the sake of his brother’s by-blow. Paul had always had a cavalier side and a weakness for women. The uncharacteristic engagement with Rose had come up out of nowhere. Now Jack knew why. The price of covering Paul’s mess this time was simply too high. “I told father the subject was closed for discussion.”
“I came because we are all hurting, Jack, and I didn’t want you to be alone for too long.” She crossed the room and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Rose is hurting, too. You saw that today and you opened your heart to her. When I saw you take her in your arms, I actually believed that despite all the ugliness going on now you and she could make a real go at marriage.”
Jack shook his head. Irked that his parents had planned this all out before ever discussing it with him. “There will be no marriage, mother.”
Her eyes softened rather empathetically. “Did you have your eye set on another?” she asked gently. “Have you made any promises?”
Jack gritted his teeth. “No.” Between medical school and building his practice, he hadn’t had the time for romance or courtship.
“Arranged marriages aren’t unheard of these days,” she went on. “You—”
“I will not marry Rose, Mother. Find another option.”
Watery tears welled in his mother’s eyes and she glanced away, expression forlorn. “I fail to see one, Jack. I know what I’m asking of you isn’t fair, but… I’m asking all the same.” The humble plea clenched at his heartstrings. “This is a desperate situation.”
Jack swallowed hard. “What of Rose? What does she think of your match-making schemes?”
“She is overwhelmed with shame, and terrified of the future. She is the most lovely girl, Jack. If only you’d give her a chance.”
“She’s a light-skirt.”
“Don’t be cruel, Jack. You of all people know how… how charismatic Paul could be.”
Jack scrubbed both hands over his face. The room swayed. Hell… he was too drunk for this conversation. “Mother, I think it’s time for you to go.”
Sadness and disappointment—disappointment in him no doubt—leeched into his mother’s warm brown eyes. “Very well.” She nodded stiffly. “I’ll go, and we won’t speak of this again.” She strode to the door, black mourning skirts dragging across the floor. She hesitated at the door and turned. Tears glittered in her eyes. “We’ve already lost Paul, Jackie. That child is all we’ll have left of him.” Her voice cracked on a sob and she quickly rushed from the office.
Guilt swamped Jack, the emotion more potent than any amount of whiskey. His parents wouldn’t force him into anything, but he’d forever be the reason they’d lost that last piece of Paul… Paul’s only legacy…
Jack sensed the trap closing in on him.
Could he deny his parents that last link to their lost son? Rose’s child was blood after all. His blood.
Jack’s head swam with confusion. On impulse he strode to the door and yanked it open. His mother walked slowly down the shadowed street, shoulders slumped. “You win, mother.”
She stilled in the street, straightening as she turned back to him.
“I’ll do it. I’ll do it for Paul.”
Her mouth fell open, shock evident in the meager light cast by the streetlamps. “I… Thank you,” she blurted finally. “R-Rose will make you a fine wife, son.”
Jack lifted a silencing hand. “Spare me.” He stepped back from the doorway, prepared to slam it again. “See to the arrangements, and tell me when and where to be. My company is set to leave in two weeks. If preparations aren’t made by then I won’t go through with it.”
* * * *
“Are you ready to get underway?” Judge Peterson asked kindly, glancing down at h
is pocket watch.
Rose Harrison glanced nervously down the long corridor of the courthouse, and swallowed back a wave of panic. Jack isn’t coming. Rose wasn’t certain how she felt about that. She wasn’t sure how she felt about any of this situation. Life had spiraled out of control shortly after meeting Paul, and she wasn’t certain she’d ever recover. The last two weeks had been a blur of heartache and shame. The only certainty she knew was that she’d do anything not to lose her baby, even marry Paul’s brother. But… if Jack Winters elected to leave her at the altar, she would have no chance at keeping the child.
Rose looked up to the judge and forced a smile. “Forgive me, sir. We are still waiting on the groom.”
“I see.” Judge Peterson gazed down at her, pity and apology in his eyes. “I’m sorry miss, but I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer today. I’m due in court in ten minutes.”
Rose gulped. It was over. She’d known Jack’s generosity was too good to be true.
“Please Judge,” Mrs. Winters left her husband’s side and crossed to the judge, flashing him a dazzling smile. “Surely you can spare just a few more minutes. My son is a physician and an emergency must have detained him.”
Or he skipped town, Rose thought sardonically.
“A doctor you say?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Winters affirmed, voice as sugary as summer sweet tea. “There is no other opportunity for these two to marry as my son is leaving today to serve the Confederacy.”
The judge glanced at his pocket watch once more. “I suppose it won’t hurt if court proceedings are delayed for a little while. I’d hate for one of our boys to go to war without marrying his sweetheart.”
Rose looked to the floor, stomach churning in the face of the ruse. This is all wrong. The conviction that marrying Jack would solve her problems was waning by the second. Mrs. Winters had assured her that Jack understood the situation and wished to help, but… Rose had her doubts. Jack had never once come to speak with her about any of it. Drawing a nervous breath, she crossed the hall and tugged at Mrs. Winter’s arm.
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