Kissed by a Rose: A Dead Roses Novel

by Workman, RaShelle

“Cole, I love you.” Rosie takes my face between her hands. “You. The man you are. Not your father. Not your family. But you.” Her voice is tender, and I can’t hold back the tears any longer.

  “I love you too, Freckles.” I shocked at her words, but I know she means them, even with the haunted look in her eyes. I can feel her love and I’m overwhelmed.

  36

  Remember the Titans

  Rosie

  After getting cleared at the hospital, Agent Smythe asks me to come down so they can interview me. I’m in an interrogation room. My psychologist, Abigail, is here, as is another psychologist from the FBI. His name is Mr. Turner. Witchy Spears is there too. Turns out she isn’t an English professor but an agent for the FBI. Placed undercover four years ago, when Evan started school at Bellam University. She’s been on the case since my parents died all those years ago.

  I give her my statement.

  “Do you know where we can find this key?” she asks.

  I squeeze my hands together. “It might be somewhere in my uncle’s truck or in the DVD case for the movie Remember the Titans at my aunt and uncle’s house.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s a guess. My uncle used to say remember the titans a lot at seemingly random times.” I shrug. “Other than that, I have no idea where else to look.”

  “Let’s go check it out.”

  “First, can you tell me about Cole? I want to make sure he’s alright.” I also ask about my aunt and uncle, but don’t give me answers right away. I’m worried it’s because they’re dead and that fear stabs me in the gut.

  They took Cole away in handcuffs. Told me it was protocol, and that they would release him as soon as they were done questioning him. I know he’s innocent, but I’m worried about where his mind is going. I told him on the ride in the car to the police station, it wasn’t his father who killed my parents, that it was actually his uncle. The news didn’t seem to lift his spirits any.

  “Cole is fine,” Witchy Spears says. Her real name is Smythe. She’ll always be Witchy to me. “He hasn’t done anything wrong… surprisingly.” She grunts. “He certainly had plenty of chances.”

  * * *

  The following morning, a group of FBI agents pulls up to my aunt and uncle’s house. It’s a blue two story with black shutters. The ache in my heart increases, but at least they’re okay. At least they’re alive. That gives me hope. I’ve been praying fervently since I got the news that they would live. That’s all I can do.

  “Let’s do this.” Agent Spears climbs the steps and pulls the tape off the front door.

  Everything looks the same. Clean. Modern. White walls. Large bone tile in the entryway. A grouping of mirrors over a sleek black entry table. I turn right to head toward the kitchen. Green apples, lemons, and limes sit in a black wire basket atop the granite island. Clorox stings my nose. Like someone has cleaned.

  I move to the garage door. Open it. Flip on the light. Uncle John’s black Titan looms large in its normal spot. Someone pushes the button to open the garage, letting in the bright light from outside.

  Abigail moves to stand next to me. She squeezes my arm, letting me know she’s there if I need her. I really appreciate it. Having her near has brought more comfort than I could’ve imagined.

  “Search everything,” Witchy says.

  I stand back. Watch them rip through the truck like it’s a present on Christmas morning. One of the agents shouts, “Got something.”

  * * *

  The key turns out to belong to a safety deposit box at the Titan Federal Savings Bank. Inside is all sorts of incriminating information, tapes, and papers. Stuff that proves Cole’s dad, Evan’s dad, and even my parents were part of a huge drug ring. In fact, the FBI uncovers what turns out to be the largest police-related drug ring ever exposed in Wyoming.

  More than a million pounds of drugs are confiscated. Evan, his father, and five other employees of the Bellam Police Department are arrested over the next several weeks.

  It makes me sad.

  Agent Witchy and her partner drive Abigail and me back to their offices after yet another interrogation. I stare out the window, watching the houses, the trees, and the old buildings rush by. We’re in the old part of town, made to look like the Wild West. The fronts of the buildings are facades. That’s how I feel about my parents. Everything I thought I knew about them was false. I can’t help but feel like my parents have died all over again. But it’s a different kind of death. I had this preconceived notion about what kind of people they were. They raised me to have values, to be good, do what’s right.

  “How you holding up?” Abigail asks, patting my arm.

  I shrug, unable to look at her. Because words are too complicated right now.

  “Your mom and dad were more than parents. Think of all the good they did. Your mom was in a coma for ten years. Your dad, Dr. Hansen took care of her, believed in her, even when she was raped, even when she gave birth to a child caused by that rape while still in a coma.” She says the last part so low only I can hear, then pauses. Looks pointedly at me, waiting.

  I look away and my heart clenches. Because that is my deepest secret. One I may never tell another soul. Abigail is the only person who knows. Sometimes I wonder if my aunt knows as well, but I doubt it since she said evil begets evil. My biological father was a rapist, which was a completely evil thing to do. Under that mentality, I should be bad. I told Abigail that once and she corrected that my aunt said bad parents raise bad kids. My dad, the one who raised me—Dr. Phillip Hansen didn’t have an evil bone in his body. At least I hadn’t thought so until I learned they were involved in the drug ring.

  “Your parents were also just people,” Abigail continues. “And people make mistakes. That doesn’t mean the good memories you have of them should feel false. They’re real. They loved you. Hold on to that. In the end they tried to do the right thing.”

  I nod, amazed how well this woman knows me. It makes me think that maybe she should talk to Cole. He might need to hear some of the same things. I can’t even imagine how painful this must be for him, knowing his dad, his uncle, his cousin, and probably his aunt was part of this. He doesn’t have any other family. At least I have my aunt and uncle.

  “I feel betrayed,” I finally blurt out, pressing my head against the cold glass window. That’s probably how Cole feels as well.

  “It’s understandable, Rosie.”

  She leaves it at that and removes her hand from my arm. I look at her. She gazes out the window, as I’d been doing. I see sadness in her features, and for the first time I wonder what kind of a life she lives. Does she have a husband? Children? We never talk about her. It’s always all about me, which is, I guess how the doctor and patient relationship is supposed to be.

  I catch Witchy regarding me in the rear-view mirror and turn away. Her eyes look understanding, sympathetic, and I don’t like it. It doesn’t suit her. I prefer her witchiness.

  * * *

  Cole

  The FBI questions me for hours until I decide I could fall asleep standing. I’m sitting in a hard, metal chair leaning my arms against a hard, metal table. There are no windows, except the one with two-way glass. I hate that. At the moment, I’m alone, and that’s difficult because it give me time to think about all the FBI has told me.

  My uncle and Evan are in custody, and that’s good, because if I ever seen Evan again, I’ll kill him. Agent Symthe told me it was Evan that killed Shawn Green and had one of his thugs drop the body near the field house so it would be discovered. He wanted Shawn’s body found as a warning to other low life’s working for him that stealing would be punished.

  The news sickens me, but at this point I’m not surprised. What really infuriates me is that Evan’s dad hired an assassin to kill Rosie. Thankfully, Evan spilled about the small man and the FBI found him. He was killed trying to escape. I can’t even pretend to be sad about that.

  At this point I’m beyond exhaus
ted. The agents have pummeled me with a lot of information since they brought me in. I’m grateful though. I’d rather know than be in the dark, but it’s still overwhelming.

  What my family did to Rosie is inexcusable. What they have been doing behind my back is the worst kind of treachery. Even though I’m glad I didn’t know most of it until I started digging recently, I feel like I should have known sooner. Reliving the past, I think deep down I knew something was off, but I wanted to believe that my dad wasn’t what people said. Turns out he was nothing more than a pawn in a scheme that had tentacles throughout the state.

  At least my dad didn’t pull the trigger and kill Rosie’s parents. But he was there, which is still unforgiveable.

  I hope Rosie does forgive me though, because she’s all I’ve got left.

  37

  You’re Amazing, Freckles

  Rosie

  The theater is packed. Heavy black curtains hang on either side of the large stage. Two black grand pianos grace center stage. Bright lights shine on them. Cole and I wait in the wings.

  Nervous butterflies flutter in my stomach. I lick my bottom lip, painted and shiny with red gloss. All of my makeup is heavy tonight. While Gina applied it, she explained I needed the drama. She also put big curls in my hair.

  From my position on the stage I can see people milling about, chatting, smiling as they take their seats. They are dressed in gowns and tuxedoes. Lights along the walls are dimly lit, giving an air of sophistication to the entire room.

  “Ready?” Cole asks, gracing me with one of his perfect smiles.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Sorry your aunt and uncle couldn’t be here.”

  I shrug and my black dress rustles. “It’s okay.” And it is. Sure, I’m sad my aunt and uncle can’t be here, but not too much. At least they’re alive. It was touch and go for several weeks. There was more than one close call. The bullet wound in my uncle was especially awful and caused a lot of internal damage. But after several surgeries, he’s doing better. He’ll recover. As will my aunt.

  I’m beyond grateful.

  Professor Jenkins walks by. “You’ll two are going to be amazing,” he says before heading out to center stage and a waiting microphone. He taps on it. “If you can all be seated.” He waits while the patrons sit. Clears his throat. “Our final performance of the night will be a piano duet with Rose Hansen and Cole Morrison. They are two of the best and brightest students I’ve ever had the pleasure to teach. Please put your hands together and welcome them on stage.”

  He claps, and those in the theater follow suit.

  Cole and I take the stage. Me in my black dress and matching ballet flats. Cole in a black tux. I keep sneaking glances his way. He looks incredibly gorgeous.

  “Here we go,” Cole whispers.

  I take a seat at one of two black grand pianos situated on the stage. I squint momentarily, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

  Cole sits at his piano and looks at me. He counts quietly. “One. Two. Three.” Then he begins to play. I watch the stress leave his features. He visibly relaxes. Music soothes his soul just as it does mine as I realize in that moment how perfect we are for each other.

  I come in at the proper time, and we play F Major, K. 533/494: III. Rondo. Allegretto. Like it was written for us.

  When we finish there’s a roar of clapping. The crowd stands. They are on their feet.

  Cole and I stand next to each other. He motions to me with his right hand. I take a bow. He does the same. Gina walks on stage wearing a gorgeous green dress. She’s carrying a large bouquet of purple roses. “Ya both rocked it,” she whispers, and places the flowers in my arms.

  “Thanks, Roomie.”

  “Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!” people in the crowd shout.

  Professor Jenkins takes the stage. “A big thank you to Cole Morrison and Rose Hansen.”

  The clapping gets louder. I hear a “Whoot. Whoot. Whoot.” I try to see over the stage lights. They’re too bright, but I’m sure it was Gina. I smile in her direction, and hope she knows it’s for her.

  Once we leave the stage, Cole wraps me in a hug. “You’re amazing, Freckles.”

  “So are you,” I respond, and press into him.

  “Wanna get out of here? I have something for you.”

  We should stay and mingle, but after what we’ve been through the past few months it’s doubtful anyone would be upset if we didn’t stay.

  I check his face. “What is it?”

  “Come home with me. I’ll show you.”

  I smile. Kiss him softly. “Can I meet you there? I told my aunt and uncle I’d stop by.”

  “Want me to come with?”

  It’s a testament to how much he loves me that he offered. My aunt and uncle know Cole is the one who saved me, but they’re still wary. I’m hoping tonight’s conversation will help.

  * * *

  My uncle is lounging in his recliner. A wooden cane leans against the armrest. He’s been using it to get around. My aunt is sitting on the couch next to him, crocheting. The yarn is baby blue.

  I can’t help but smile. If I hadn’t seen them get shot in this very living room, I never would’ve believed it happened.

  “Hi guys,” I say, leaning over and kissing my uncle on the cheek. He wraps his arms around me and squashes me to him. “Can’t breathe,” I say joking.

  Uncle John lets go. “Oops, sorry about that.”

  I kiss my aunt’s cheek before sitting next to her. “Whatcha working on?” The yarn is soft.

  “It’s a scarf.” Her eyes fill with tears. She sniffles and glances at my uncle.

  “Oh, Lizzie. I’m all right. But he reaches over and takes her outstretched hand, twining his fingers with hers.

  They adore each other. And seeing the way they are makes me want to bring Cole around. He’s going to be in my life a very, very long time. Hopefully they will too. I want my aunt and uncle to understand how much he means to me.

  “How was your performance?” Aunt Eliza asks, going back to her crocheting. The tension is immediately thick, palpable.

  “It went well. We received a standing ovation.”

  Aunt Eliza pats my hand. “Of course, you did.”

  I sigh. “Cole played beautifully. He’s seriously so good. I can’t wait for you—”

  “That’ll be the day,” Uncle John interrupts, flipping on the TV like we’re done talking.

  Anger bubbles to the surface and I stand in front of the TV. “Here’s the thing. I’m in love with Cole.”

  My aunt covers her mouth. “No.”

  Uncle John grumbles something incoherent.

  “Yes. He’s wonderful. Caring. Sweet. Kind. Gorgeous. Loving. Compassionate—”

  “We get it, dear. You’re smitten.” Aunt Eliza goes back to crocheting. Her eyebrows drawn together in consternation.

  I sit back down. Place a hand over hers. “It’s more than that.” She looks at me and I meet her eyes. “You used to say evil parents raise evil kids, remember?”

  She balks and pulls her hand from mine. “I do. It’s a fact.”

  “Maybe it usually is, but not this time. Cole saved me. And not just my actual life, but in here too.” I press a fist to my chest, over my heart. Tears of frustration fill my eyes. I blink them away, but my voice breaks. “Without him I’m incomplete.” I turn my gaze to my uncle. “Without the two of you I’m incomplete.”

  He grumbles.

  “I need the two of you and Cole in my life, and it would mean so much to me if you could give him a chance.” I look at my aunt. Her mouth is hanging open. “Please.” I wipe the tears that’ve escaped off my face.

  “Alright.” My uncle gives my aunt a look, one that says, “It’s settled.”

  “Good. Why don’t you bring him to dinner on Sunday? I’ll make taco sushi and chocolate cake.” A small smile is on Aunt Eliza’s lips and I know it’s going to be okay between them.

  I reach over and hug her. “Thank you. Thanks. I will.” Th
en I stand. Because Cole is waiting, and I’m anxious to be alone with him.

  “You want some pie? I made apple.”

  I shake my head. “Can I take a rain check? I have someplace to be.”

  My uncle rolls his eyes.

  * * *

  I knock on Cole’s apartment door. It bursts open. I notice he’s still in his tux, but the bow tie is gone, and the top button is undone. He yanks me in, crushing his lips to mine.

  I want him. Need him.

  “Hi,” he says between kisses. “How did it go?”

  I laugh. “Good. You’re in. They want you to come to dinner. Taco sushi and chocolate cake.”

  He makes a face.

  “It’s delicious,” I say, oozing sarcasm.

  “I’m sure I’ll love it.” He helps me out of my coat, setting it on the couch and then looks at me. “You’re breathtaking.” He takes down my hair, pulling out the pins Gina so painstakingly placed to hold it in place. He fans it out, letting it fall past my shoulders and I shiver at his touch against my shoulders. His lips are immediately back on mine immediately deepening our kiss.

  I slide his jacket off, running my hands along his arms and back before they settle at his waist. “I love you, Rosie,” he whispers against my mouth, before kissing his way along my jaw to my ear. A hungry heat warms my lower belly. “More than I believed it was possible to love.” He says the words softly, and tears of joy fill my eyes.

  “I love you too.” I pull back and take in his face, his beautiful, ice blue eyes. “Thank you for waiting for me. For saving me. For being the first person to see all of me.”

  He kisses me tenderly, his fingers slowly moving up and down my arms. Goosebumps pucker all over. “You know you’re going to marry me, right?” He smirks, his eyes mischievous.