by Haven, Rose
After Peter left the manor later that morning, Amber decided to make raspberry tarts for him. She sent the new kitchen maid, Nancy, to collect fresh raspberries from the market.
“Lord Peter has strictly banned raspberries in the manor’s kitchen. Are you sure you want to use them?” Mrs. Beatrix asked Amber apprehensively.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Beatrix. I know Rose is allergic to them. I’ll just make a few tarts and keep them aside for Peter. We’ll make sure that Rose doesn’t get anywhere close to them.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
Soon, Nancy was back with a basket full of raspberries.
“Here are your raspberries, my lady. You should have seen how little Rose relished them!” she said laughing.
Amber and Mrs. Beatrix were mortified.
“You fed her these raspberries,” Mrs. Beatrix almost shouted.
“Uhhh….yes. She was playing in the hall and when I came with this basket, she ran to me and picked a few of them,” replied Nancy, a little alarmed. Amber was too stunned to move.
“And you let her take them, you fool!” This time Mrs. Beatrix actually shouted.
“Why? Doesn’t she like them? She seemed to relish……..”
Mrs. Beatrix and Amber didn’t wait for her to finish the sentence. They ran to the main hall and there lay Rose, unconscious and covered with dark red spots!
“Michael, MICHAEL!” shouted Amber. “Rush to the doctor. Call him immediately. Say it is an emergency.”
Michael ran as fast as he could towards the stables. He sent one of the stable boys to fetch Peter and himself hurried towards the doctor’s house.
Amber carried little Rose in her arms and took her to the nearest room. She was crying uncontrollably. What if something terrible happened to her! How would she face Peter? It was all her fault! She had insisted on making those goddamned tarts!
***************************************
“Who dared to bring raspberries into this manor,” thundered Peter.
“Peter, I just wanted to make a few tarts for you…..”
“Mrs. Beatrix, didn’t you tell Amber that the damned fruit was banned in the kitchen?” Peter was angry beyond measure.
Mrs. Beatrix remained silent, with her head down.
“Please calm down Peter. Rose will be alright. Mrs. Beatrix did tell me about Rose’s allergy to raspberries but I thought……………..”
“And you still brought them in here! How irresponsible can you be?” Peter shouted.
“I am so sorry, Peter,” Amber was crying hard.
“Sorry! You are sorry, Amber? What if something happens to Rose? You know what! I made a mistake! I made a huge mistake by marrying you and trusting you with Rose,” said Peter pointing his finger towards Amber. “This is the difference between a mother and a step-mother! Helena would never have risked Rose’s life like this on purpose,” continued Peter bitterly.
His words stunned Amber. She felt as if she had been slapped hard. Her entire world came crashing down in a few seconds. Was he really accusing her of risking Rose’s life on purpose? She could not believe her ears!
“My lord, there is nothing to worry about. Rose will be perfectly alright in a few hours. I have given her some sedative so she’ll be asleep for a couple of hours,” the doctor informed Peter.
“Thank you, doctor. Thank you so much.” Without a single glance at Amber, Peter rushed in to see his daughter.
Chapter Eleven
Amber thanked God a million times that Rose was safe. As much as she wanted to see her once, hold her close to her heart, she could not do so. She must leave……at once!
Amber hurriedly packed her belongings. Mrs. Beatrix and Michael tried to stop her but to no avail. When Peter no longer trusted her, considered her a threat to Rose’s well-being, how could she stay back in this house? Now that she was assured that Rose would be alright, she had to leave. With tears rolling down her eyes, she looked at the manor one last time and then left with a broken heart.
**********************************
Peter knew that Amber was leaving. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop her. Hell, he could not even face her after all the cruel words he’d inflicted upon her. Peter hated himself! When had he become so cruel, so bitter? He thought he’d finally accepted Amber as his wife. Then how could he accuse her of all those horrible things? And that too, after everything she’d done for him and Rose!
Peter poured himself another drink. Just then, Michael announced the arrival of Her Grace.
“Peter, are you alright? You look awful,” exclaimed his mother.
“Mother, what a pleasure to see you!”
“What have you done to yourself? You promised me after Helena’s death that you will stay off alcohol.”
“Yes, mother. I have broken my promise. But you know what, I’ve broken another promise too. I promised Helena that I’d keep Amber happy. And look what I’ve done! I have hurt her in the worst possible manner! I am not a good man mother, I am not a good man!” Peter was miserable.
“Oh Peter! You ARE a good man. You said all those things to Amber because you were scared…scared of losing Rose! I am sure you didn’t mean them.” Lady Bryton could feel her son’s pain.
“Still, mother. I had no right to talk to her like that. She filled this empty house with love and what I gave her in return? Misery! Contempt! She has every right to hate me.”
“Who says that she hates you? Peter, the love that I’ve seen in her eyes for you and Rose, it can’t be diminished by a few misunderstandings. I am sure she’ll understand if you go to her and confess your love. You do love her, right?” Lady Bryton asked softly.
“I love her, mother. I love her with all my heart! After Helena, I had thought that I’d never be able to love again. But she proved me wrong. I love her so much that her absence is killing me.”
“Then go, my son. Go to her and apologize for your behavior. Don’t hesitate in letting her know how much you love her!”
Chapter Twelve
Amber had been crying the entire day. Just when she thought that her life had become perfect, everything scattered like a pack of cards. She loved Peter so much that the contempt that she saw in his eyes literally shred her heart into a million pieces.
“Amber, are you awake, my dear?” her mother asked softly.
“Yes, mother.” She quickly wiped her tears. She had not yet told her parents what exactly happened at the manor. Her mother was thinking that she’d had a small fight with Peter and had even admonished her for coming back like that.
“Peter is here to see you.”
Amber immediately got up from her bed. Peter had come to see her! Oh God! She hoped Rose was alright!
She rushed to the door where Peter was standing and asked, “What happened? Is Rose alright?”
“Yes. She is perfectly fine,” he smiled and gave her the small bouquet that he held in his hands.
Amber’s mother asked, a little confused, “What happened to Rose?”
This meant that Amber had not yet informed her parents of the fiasco.
“Nothing, Aunt Wikfield. She’s just down with a little fever,” lied Peter.
“Oh! I’ll leave you two here now so that you can pour your hearts out to each other. Peter, Amber has been very upset since she arrived this morning. You better cheer her up,” she said in mock anger.
“I am here to do just that.”
As Amber’s mother closed the door behind her, Peter looked at Amber and said, “Amber, I know that I don’t deserve it, but yet I ask you to forgive me for all those hateful things that I said to you. I didn’t mean a single word of what I said. I just got…I got scared. I thought I would lose Rose.”
Amber watched him in silence.
When she didn’t respond, Peter continued, “You have taught me how to love selflessly, Amber. And I promise you I’ll always love you, no matter what life throws our way.”
“What did you just say? You…you love me?�
�
“Of course I love you, sweetheart. And I am so sorry I gave you reason to doubt that!” Peter moved closer to her and put his arms around her waist.
He still loved her! Amber didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Please tell me that you still love me….that you still want to be with me. I need you Amber…and Rose needs you too. Our lives are incomplete without you.”
“I love you Peter, I do. I’ve loved you ever since I understood the meaning of love,” replied Amber with tears in her eyes.
“So does that mean you’ve forgiven me for being a brute to you?”
“Yes,” laughed Amber. “And you must forgive me too. Whatever happened today was my……”
“Let’s just forget about all of that! And focus our energies on what is going to happen next,” said Peter with humor in his eyes.
“And what is that?” Amber was a bit confused.
“A deep, passionate, mind numbing, nerve wracking kiss!” he laughed.
And they both made sure that it did happen!
THE END
Cowboy Romance
Sally and Evan: Clean Slate
Book One
Rose Haven
Sally and Evan: Clean Slates
Casey Bishop
Casey Bishop sat in the hallway of the courthouse, waiting to be called for her testimony. Her palms were sweaty and her stomach, though empty, rolled and pitched. It was all she could do to keep the piece of toast she’d managed to choke down this morning from coming back up. She knew she was doing the right thing, the only thing she could do to right her wrongs and start a new life. A life free of Joey Masso. The only man who’d ever claimed to love her.
“Miss Bishop, they’re ready for you,” the bailiff said, holding the massive oak door open for her. Casey rose on wobbly legs and walked into the courtroom careful to look straight ahead. The prosecutor had warned her against looking at Joey for fear that she’d lose her nerve. She took a deep breath and continued forward toward the witness stand, feeing Joey’s eyes burn holes into her back as she passed him.
She reached the witness stand, the bailiff gave her the oath, and she sat, still careful not to look at the defendant’s table where she knew Joey sat staring hard at her. The prosecutor walked slowly toward her, offering her a reassuring smile before launching into his line of well-rehearsed questions.
“Miss Bishop, can you please tell the court how you know the defendant, Mr. Masso,” he began.
For the next forty minutes Casey was peppered with questions about her relationship with Joey, her boyfriend since the age of fifteen, her knowledge of his drug dealing and any role she had in his illegal activities. She admitted to knowing that Joey started selling pot at sixteen and moved onto cocaine by eighteen. How, at the ripe old age of twenty-three, he’d become the primary dealer in their small south Chicago neighborhood and was poised to take over the heroine distribution from some really big, really bad guys. She denied any direct involvement in selling, packaging, or transporting the drugs but was forced to admit that she did nothing to stop any of it either. She’d lived the lifestyle the money had afforded: nice clothes, nice dinners, nice cars. In the end, however, she’d grown wary of always looking over her shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d become tired of waiting for the police to kick in their door, or worse, for the rival dealers to do the same. When the federal agent had shown up at the library where she was studying for her chemistry final one year ago tomorrow and offered her a way out, she’d barely hesitated. Even if it meant losing the only “family” she’d ever known.
Casey had been orphaned at four, raised by her mom’s alcoholic sister and her loser husband. She had spent the next eleven years keeping a low profile, careful not to invoke the wrath of her aunt on a bender. She’d been clothed, fed and educated but never loved. Until she’d met Joey. They had been sophomores when they met and Casey had allowed herself to be swallowed by his attention like an affection-starved puppy. He’d promised her all of the things she felt her life lacked and she’d stayed in his cocoon for eight years. And now she was blowing it all to hell.
Sally Andrews
Casey stared out the window of the plane mentally getting acquainted with her new life. I am Sally Andrews, I grew up in Indianapolis, I decided to trade city life for fresh air… she repeated to herself over and over again. After her testimony against Joey, her life had become a whirlwind. He’d been sentenced to twenty-five years to life in prison, she’d been ushered to a safe house, given a new identity, and bundled onto a plane to Oklahoma. As the plane descended she felt her nerves start to buzz again. She was alone and even through all of the assurances the United States Marshal’s Service that she would be safe, she still woke in a cold sweat at night, sure she heard Joey at her door.
She stepped off of the plane into the small airport and was met by Deputy Marshal Susan Fields, a tall black woman with a kind smile and alert eyes. She ushered Casey to a waiting car and they began the drive toward her new home of Pawhuska, a small ranching town.
“I’ll be your point of contact if you should need anything,” Deputy Fields was saying, as Casey watched the dusty landscape pass by the windows. She was taken to a small apartment above a local bar which had been rented for her by the Marshal’s Service and was told the owner’s name was Buck Carter.
Buck. You didn’t meet too many people in Chicago named Buck. Casey was beginning to feel like she was dropped onto another planet. She gathered her small duffle bag and walked into the bar to introduce herself and get her keys. Might as well find a job while she was at it, she figured. Casey walked into the bar and stood just inside the door letting her eyes adjust to the dim light inside. The place was relatively small with seats for six at the bar and a scattering of tables arranged around what appeared to be a small dance floor centered by a jukebox currently wailing some country song about lost love. Casey approached the bar and a skinny man in his sixties with a ponytail and a lazy left eye straightened from his task of stocking the beer coolers.
“May I help you,” he asked in a gruff voice.
Here we go, Casey thought.
“Yes. I’m Sally. Sally Andrews,” she said and the name sounded foreign on her tongue.
“Ah yes, my new tenant,” Buck said. “City girl, eh?”
Casey was taken aback at first but then realized her lack of southern accent and her current attire of yoga pants and Sketchers gave her away. She added clothes shopping to her mental checklist. If she was going to try to blend in, she needed some cowboy boots STAT. She made small talk with her new landlord and was grateful that he didn’t ask many questions. He seemed to understand that she liked her privacy.
“There’s not much up there,” Buck started. “A small table, a few chairs, a couch and a bed. No TV but there’s a radio, fridge and oven. Not very pretty or nothing but it’ll keep you warm and dry.”
“That’s ok,” Casey replied. “I don’t need much. Except maybe a job. You know of anywhere that’s hiring?”
“Well actually, I’m looking for someone to replace my bartender Rosie. She goes back to college in Tulsa in a few weeks. You ever done anything like that,” Buck asked.
“I used to do some waitressing in high school,” she replied.
“Well then, you’re hired,” Buck stated.
Casey was, again, surprised. “Just like that,” she asked.
“Well seein’ as you’ll be livin’ upstairs, I suppose I’ll know where ta find you if’n you don’t show up one day,” he said with a smile.
“Very true. Well thank you sir. When should I start,” she asked.
“What’s today, Sunday? How ‘bout you come in Friday? Take a few days to get yourself settled and learn your way around town? And Sally? ‘Sir’ makes me sound too respectable, call me Buck.”
“Sounds great Buck. Where’s the nearest grocery store?”
Evan
Sherriff Evan Cole strode into his office on Monday morning, the smell o
f the brewing coffee setting his stomach rumbling.
“Mornin’ Leeann,” he greeted his dispatcher with a tip of his Stetson.
“Mornin’ Sherriff,” she replied, getting up to fetch his coffee.
“Anything I need to know about,” he asked.
“The mayor’s secretary just came by and dropped off the new budget proposal for you to look over,” Leeann said, following Evan into his office and setting his coffee on the desk.
“Great, can’t wait,” Evan growled. “You’d better keep the coffee coming if you expect me to stay awake reading that damn thing.”
Evan folded his large frame into his chair, shuffling through the few messages on his desk before grabbing his coffee mug and leaning back to prop his long legs up on his desk. He grabbed the budget report and began to leaf through it. He hated this part of the job.
Originally from Texas, Evan had grown up on a ranch. His parents had struggled to make ends meet until one of the local oil companies had asked to drill a test site on their land. Evan remembered standing next to his father, mimicking his stance, arms folded across his chest. He was nine years old. He watched the big drill pierce the ground and thick, rich, black oil bubbled to the surface. It was the only time in Evan’s life he’d seen his father genuinely smile.
Things looked up for their family after that, his father was able to purchase newer and better equipment, more horses and more cattle and the money never seemed to run out. Their happiness lasted only five short years until Evan’s mother, Marie, fell ill and died. Evan was fourteen. His father, unable to drag himself from the despair of losing his wife, sold the ranch in Texas and moved Evan to Oklahoma. He bought a ranch there almost three times the size of the one in Texas and spent his remaining years attempting to work himself into an early grave.
