By Way of the Rose

by Cynthia M. Ward

  “I was at Greta's. I went to see her sister's wedding dress and I stayed to help with it.”

  “I could have used a little help around here myself,” Marion snapped. “You shouldn't have stayed so late.”

  “I'm sorry, Momma. But we've all been cooped up for so long, it just felt so refreshing to get out for a while, to feel the sunshine on my face and to visit with friends.”

  “It felt refreshing having you out of here too,” Nathan hissed. He seemed to be in an exceptionally cross mood tonight.

  Sarah ignored his comment, as did Daniel and Marion. “Is there anything I can help with now?” Sarah asked.

  “Just set the table, everything is already done.”

  During supper Nathan snorted, “Could you gulp that milk any louder?”

  Sarah put the glass down. She knew it was time to pay for enjoying herself.

  “Could ya pass the bread, gulpy gut?”

  “Here you go.” Sarah smiled as she handed him the platter of bread.

  “Stop making faces at me!” He snorted. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. Nathan leapt out of his seat and popped her across the face. Daniel and Marion looked at him in shocked disbelief.

  “Nathan DuVal! What on earth has possessed you to do such a thing to your sister?” Daniel stood up as he slapped his napkin on the table. “You set yourself down son and don't you ever let me see you raise your hand to another member of this family! Especially one of your sisters!”

  “She's not my sister! And I was tired of her making faces at me! She does it all the time.”

  “She's my daughter! You have no reason to hit her,” Daniel scolded. “No matter what you think, she's a female and your sister I don't care how many faces she makes, you can't hit her... we've taught you better than that, son!”

  “I didn't make faces at him! He's lying on me!” Sarah wept as she rubbed her face.

  “She rolled her eyes and everything!” Nathan shouted. “She's the liar!”

  “Is that true?” Marion cut her eyes at Sarah.

  “Well, yes I did roll my eyes, but only after he— ”

  “Tsk, tsk, Sarah,” Marion interrupted. “You know better than that.” She shook her head. “You've provoked your brother to anger. Now, Daniel, you know that isn't right either. You can't let that go without a word.”

  “Your Momma's right, Sarah.” Daniel scolded. “We don't hit, but we don't provoke either. It's not right that he hit you, but you're wrong for provoking him. You behave yourself too, young lady.”

  Sarah was speechless, unable to believe her own ears. They had all sat there and seen the whole thing, yet it was still her fault! How could this be? She bowed her head in despair and said nothing more in her defense. After all, what could she say? Whatever she added would only bring her more sorrow. Left would always be right, up would always be down and she would always be wrong in this house! Her only defense was to let it go and try to placate him. Yet, after this night Cora, who usually barely noticed anything that happened past the end of her nose, became more distant toward Nathan as his temper became worse. She stopped picking on Sarah and even became friendly toward her.

  Sarah was practically giddy this bright Monday morning. The first day of school had finally arrived! She would not be closed up in the house with Nathan and his temper any longer! He was getting worse by the day.

  To hide his actions from everyone, Nathan had stopped hitting Sarah in the face, yet he didn't stop hitting her everywhere else he could. Sarah chose to wear her long-sleeved fall dress to hide the bruises, even though it would be uncomfortable on this sunny, spring day. She dressed herself quickly then helped Jenny and Betty dress themselves. They were a bit nervous about their first day. Sarah gulped down a few bites of her breakfast. The twins were having trouble getting anything down, and Sarah knew their stomachs were so nervous over this new and unknown place called school. “There's nothing to be upset about.” She smiled. “School is the most wonderful place on earth! You will both love it dearly. You're going to make so many friends and learn so much. Besides, I thought you said you wanted to go. “I do,” Jennie said. “But I'm still nervous.”

  “I'm nervous too!” Bettie spoke up. “But I do want to go to school. I'm just glad you'll be there with us, Sarah.”

  “Well, it's all right. I was a bit nervous my first day, too. But I promise the both of you, you're going to love it as soon as you step through the door, just as I did.”

  On the way home that evening, you couldn't tell that they were the same children. They were excited and happy. They had both made new friends and they adored Mrs. Lykes, the teacher.

  “We like Mrs. Lykes” They sang and giggled as they skipped along the way.

  Sarah stopped by the post office to see if they had any mail. There were two letters from John. One was addressed to Daniel and Marion, the other, to her. She quickly ripped into the envelope and read...

  My Dear Sarah;

  I hope this letter finds you all well and happy. I tried to schedule this to where my letter would arrive there on your first day of school. I have no idea what that teacher could possibly teach you, I think you must know everything there is to know by now. As I remember it, you were a quick learner.

  I am enclosing some cash for books and such, for whatever you and the twins may need for school. If this doesn't cover it all just let me know... I'll get it for you

  I've been thinking of you all so much lately, especially of you, Sarah. There's a little girl here now that's about your age and I think about you as she follows me around the house. She most always wants me to read to her. She's as cute as a button and says she wants to read the words for herself some day. She's bright, indeed, and will learn quickly. Just like you did, Sarah, but she's never been to school or had anyone that would teach her. She makes me think about you so much.

  I miss you all terribly and hope to see you someday soon!

  Always your loving brother,

  John

  Sarah folded the letter.

  “What did he say?” Jennie asked.

  “He misses us all, and sent us some money to buy things we needed for school.”

  “Mrs. Lykes said we needed slates... can we get them today?”

  “I don't see why not! Let's go to Mr. Hamilton's.” Sarah smiled. The last words of John's letter kept echoing through her mind, Always your loving brother, John. Even through the joyous shopping spree, she almost began to cry. My loving brother. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had said they loved her. She wished that her loving brother was here with her. She felt a bit jealous that John was spending time with another little girl and not her. She needed someone. John was hers... who was this girl anyway?

  At times Sarah was confused about how she felt. Was it disappointment? Perhaps. She couldn't help feeling a bit bitter because the words that she longed to hear were always missing from his letters... ” I am coming home.”

  Nathan went out of his way to make sure that Sarah knew, every day of her life, that she was not their sister. He made it his business to remind her that none of them cared anything about her. Wasn't she the fool? Maybe even her dear, sweet John hadn't cared as much as she'd thought he did. Maybe he'd just felt sorry for the “injun foundling,” as Nathan had so often pointed out to her in his taunting, “John likes you about as well as I do... he just feels like he has to be nice to you, but I don't! I know you ain't so special!” A tear washed down her cheek she wiped it away as Mr. Hamilton's voice intruded.

  “That'll be one dollar.” he smiled. Sarah placed the money on the counter and walked out of the store with the twins trailing happily behind her.

  “Didn't you want anything, Sarah?” Bettie asked.

  “No, I don't need a thing.” She huffed. Someone might bust a gut if I got anything anyway. I'll save myself another slap upside the head, Thank you very much, John. Just stay hidden where you are and send your useless wads of paper to me! Does he really think this does me any good? If he cared, w
ouldn't he be here

  Sarah fumed as she walked. When she got home from school she changed into her work dress and headed to the fields to help with the planting. The dust billowed up from behind the plows as Daniel, Jonas, Isaiah and Jericho zigzagged the large fields. Sarah joined Ester, Thorney and Thomas as they dropped the cotton seed in the furrows Ester made with a long stick then covered them over. Marion, with Jennie and Betty, were in another field, doing the same thing. The fields seemed to go on forever. This was the largest crop they'd ever planted.

  “Hey, Miss Sarah,” Ester spoke. “Now that you're here, you and Thorney can go start plantin’ over yonder on that other row. Thomas can help me here. Take the seed here and get started. That way we can get more done before dark sets in. Maybe even the whole field!”

  While they planted Sarah and Thorney played their spelling game. Sarah would give her a word and Thorney would spell it, or at least tell what letter it started with. “Cotton.” Sarah called out.

  “K. O. T. T. E. N.”

  “That sounds right. It's really close, but what other letter sounds like a K that's not a K?”

  “C!” Thorney beamed.

  “No wonder they call you Thorney! You're as sharp as a thorn!” They both laughed.

  Before long the entire field was planted and Thorney knew forty new words.

  Sarah, Greta and Shane were nearing the first covered bridge when they noticed an old man stirring over a cook pot. He'd built a fire from limbs and sticks and had made himself a shelter by dropping a wagon canvas down the bridge pilings. “Poor old man!” Greta sighed.

  “He's not a poor old man. He's a gypsy!” Shane exclaimed. “Maybe even the leader of an entire band of ‘em!”

  “How do you know that?” Sarah asked.

  “Look at the way he's dressed.” Shane responded. “Gypsy garb all over him. You can tell it a mile away. He's a gypsy all right!”

  The old man did have a certain gypsy look about him. His baggy pants were striped and rolled up high above his ankles. They ballooned around him while a long bunch of golden colored roping was tied in knots at his waist to hold them up. His grayed cotton shirt was also much too large for his spindly frame. The only thing that seemed to fit rightly on his body was the bright, red kerchief that was tied around his head.

  “Well, let's just go now.” Greta began to walk on. “Gypsy or not, he's strange by any account!”

  “You ain't scared of him, are you?” Shane teased.

  “Yes, I am and you ought to be too!” Greta snapped as she wheeled around.

  “Oh, come on, this might be our only chance to meet a real gypsy!” Shane begged.

  “But gypsies are dangerous! They steal and all,” Sarah warned.

  “We ain't got nothing for him to steal,” Shane huffed.

  “You want to talk to him so bad, you go ahead! But I'm staying right here!” Greta folded her arms across her chest in defiance.

  “What about you, Sarah?”

  “I don't want to bother him. Besides, we'll be late for school.” Sarah began to ease closer to Greta.

  “We're always early. You know we have time,” Shane said. “He'd probably like to talk to someone. C'mon, don't be a scaredy cat!”

  Sarah thought about it for a minute. “Well, I suppose it's no different than saying hello to any other new neighbor,” she paused. “I think it would be rude not to welcome him and make him feel at home.”

  “You can't mean that, Sarah! He's probably a lunatic!” Greta slung her arms down to her side and glared at Sarah.

  “Now, Greta,” Sarah gently explained. “Christian love and neighborliness aren't just for some, but for all, even gypsies, maybe especially gypsies.”

  Greta was completely disarmed. “Oh, all right, but I'm going last,” Greta conceded.

  They crept slowly down the embankment to where the old man sat, his back toward them, as he hunkered on a large stone stirring his brew.

  “Uh, morning to ya, Mr. Gypsy, sir,” Shane spoke loudly to let him know they were there. But the old man sat on as if no one had spoken a word. “Excuse me, sir, we would like to welcome you to Eagleton.” Shane walked around to face the man.

  “Jeez and Peets, bi! Wharja cume frum!” He jumped straight up slinging his stirring spoon into the air. “Who are ye? Why ye wanna be a vexin’ on an old man like at?”

  Shane's blue eyes were wide. Greta and Sarah stood back squeezing each other's hands and trembling as they stared at Shane and the old gypsy man.

  “U-um, we just wanted to welcome you to town.” Shane's voice was unsteady.

  “Ye see a town here, bi? Ain't ner town under dis here bridge. Are ye daft? Dead in the head? Get outta here and mind yer own business, I says, before I conjure up me willies on the lot of ye!” He jerked his long spoon up from the ground and drew it back as if he were going to whap it at Shane.

  They all three took off, slipping and sliding, back up the bank and onto the road.

  “I told you he was crazy!” Greta said as she panted for breath. “I told you we shouldn't go down there!”

  “At least there was some excitement around here.” Shane just smiled an impish smile. “And I can say that I once talked to an old gypsy man.”

  “And what are you going to say the old gypsy said to you?” Sarah smirked.

  “I'm gonna say he said, ‘jeeze and peets, bi! Don't be a vexin on me'!'” Shane laughed as he mocked the old man.

  “The vexation of Rambling Tom.” Sarah giggled.

  “Rambling Tom?” Greta asked.

  “He just looks like a rambling something and I thought Tom was good enough.”

  After this day they would often see him near the bank of the stream cooking his breakfast as they went on their way to school but they never dared to speak with him again. One morning they noticed he was gone.

  “Rambling Tom must have gone rambling on.” Shane said.

  “Good!” Greta sighed. “I was getting so tired of seeing him squatted there. He was creepy!”

  “Wonder where he's going next, and without his stuff? It's all still there.” Sarah pointed to his belongings.

  “He wouldn't have left his stuff,” Shane said. “Maybe we should check on him.”

  “You just go right ahead, but don't expect me to go with you this time!” Greta informed him.

  “Well, someone needs to check on him,” Shane retorted. “Something's not right. He wouldn't have left his stuff.” He walked towards the embankment. “You coming, Sarah?”

  “Sure, I'm not afraid of him. He's just a mean old man.” She followed Shane but Greta stayed firmly planted on the bridge.

  When they'd made it down to the bank they noticed that the old man's cook pot was filled with cold, crusty beans.

  “He must have left in a hurry.” Shane shrugged his shoulders.

  “He's nowhere to be seen. This is odd.”

  Later that evening they heard the news from Sonny Slone that the old man had been found dead down by the river bridge. “My folks are giving him a proper and decent funeral,” Sonny said. “It's our Christian duty, seein’ as my Pa is the minister here. The old guy's in my living room in a pine box right now.” Then Sonny leaned in and whispered in a deep, ominous voice. “He's real white and scary looking! I ain't ever seen nothing like it! ‘Course, I never saw a dead person before.”

  “Me either,” Shane said. “I don't guess none of us have.” He shook his head.

  They all wondered just how scary the old man would look. Before long their curiosity began to rise.

  “Well do you think we should go pay our respects, seeing as we're the only ones in the town who actually knew him, or ever talked to him?” Sarah asked the group. She had never seen a dead person either.

  “Yeah,” Sonny urged. “I reckon y'all should, else no one will be at the wake. Spirits can't rest easy ‘til they get a proper send off into the hereafter. That's why me and my folks are giving him what we can.” He piously bowed his head. “He's all laid out i
n our parlor for folks to come pay their last respects, but you know, there's no one to mourn him, poor ol’ fellow. I reckon since y'all knew him, maybe y'all could come and mourn some. Just so we let him see that folks cared. If not, he might haunt us all till our dying day if he ain't respected and seen to.

  “I just hope he don't run me off with a big spoon.” Shane laughed. “Or conjure up any ol’ willies on me!”

  “Stop it, Shane. We're supposed to be mourning for him!” Sarah scolded. “You're not mourning respectable.” She was anxious to see the old man too, yet scared, as was Greta.

  That evening they all met at the Slone's place to properly mourn for old rambling Tom and to get their first glimpse of a dead person. They stood close together as they neared the room.

  Greta stopped suddenly. “I— I can't go in there! I'm too afraid, this is a read honest to goodness, dead person! I just can't go in there where it is either.”

  “Well, either we all go or none of us will.” Sarah stood with Greta.

  “Don't be afraid, Greta,” Shane assured her. “We'll let you walk between us, won't we, Sarah.”

  “Sure,” Sarah agreed.

  “Nothing can get to ya if you're in the middle of us.” Shane said. “We'll both protect you from either side.”

  “Yeah,” Sarah agreed. “Come on, Greta. We all need to go in together. If you don't go we'll all be stopped and that just wouldn't be right. The old man's spirit will be glad we came. It will be just fine. Come on, get in between us.”

  They held hands and crept into the parlor where the old gypsy lay in a freshly hewn pine box. They cautiously peered over the edge as the candlelight flickered and sent shadows playing over his gaunt face. Suddenly there came an image, draped in a white sheet, sailing down the upstairs banister and screeching to the top of its lungs. It howled worse than the wild, Tennessee valley winds.

  Sarah, Greta and Shane tore from the room screaming to high heaven and somehow they all three got caught and tightly jammed in the doorway. They punched their elbows and dug their claws into each other. None of them would move back or give an inch as they screamed and pushed forward until they broke free. They went slamming onto the porch, then scrambled up and sailed from the house. Greta slipped and plopped down two steps and came to rest on the third where she lost total control of her bladder.