Rose

by Jill Marie Landis

  Zach flicked the reins and grumbled, “Colder than hell out here.”

  Rosa smiled to herself. She had come to know the crotchety old man well during the past two weeks. His loyalty to Kase ran deep; indeed, he treated the younger man like a son. She recalled his kindness just yesterday when he returned the shawl she’d given him to use as a makeshift bandage for Kase. Rosa had all but forgotten it until Zach handed it back to her all laundered and folded. “Took it to Yee,” he had said offhandedly before he offered his thanks.

  On their trips back and forth to Mountain Shadows, Rosa and Zach had continually ignored the obvious question. Rosa refused to give up hope that Kase would walk again; Zach talked about the things she and Kase could do and places they might go once they were married. On bad days, she wondered if Zach was keeping up a pretense of belief in Kase’s recovery for her sake, but she was too afraid to ask.

  They soon arrived at Mountain Shadows, and Zach drew the buggy to a halt before the wide veranda. He helped Rosa down and then climbed back aboard to take the carriage to the stable area. Rosa shivered from the cold that cut through her heavy coat as she crossed the porch. The door opened to her knock, but instead of Quentin’s usual warm welcome, Rosa found herself staring up at a statuesque blond woman.

  “You must be Rosa,” the woman said, her words laced with a heavy accent. “Come in. Come in and warm up.”

  “Grazie,” Rosa said as she stepped past the woman into the well-heated entry hall. Quentin’s home always smelled of firewood and spices.

  “I have heard many good things about you.”

  Rosa slipped off her hat, coat, and scarf and took a long look at the woman who greeted her with such familiarity. She was tall, her height accented by the crown of shining braids that encircled her head. Any woman would envy the woman’s radiant complexion; it reminded Rosa of the blushing pink of the roses in Zia Rina’s spring garden. Her gown was of taffeta plaid in blue and brown; the waistline dipped in front to a point that emphasized her slimness. The stranger did nothing to hide her commanding height. Instead, she stood straight and proud. And smiling.

  Rosa suddenly remembered her manners. “I beg pardon, signora.” She hesitated for a moment.

  “I’m sorry!” The woman blushed. “I forget we have not met. Quentin has said so much about you, I feel already I know you.”

  Quentin must have sent for this woman to care for Kase. Rosa felt a deep, sinking sensation. The striking blond was at least forty years old, Rosa guessed, but still so very beautiful, so aristocratic, that she reminded Rosa of a young version of the contessa. Still, there was something familiar about the woman’s eyes.

  “I am Analisa Storm. Kase’s mother.”

  Rosa could think of nothing to say. Sudden insecurity coursed through her, and she reached up to pat her hair into place. As usual, her thick hair was slipping from the pins, and the bun atop her head was slightly askew. She blinked, swallowed, and tried to find her tongue. Never, ever, had she imagined that anyone’s mother, especially Kase’s, might look like royalty. Rosa felt like a little brown mouse beside her fiancé’s mother.

  Still, she tried to smile. “Sono molto lieta di fare la sua conoscenza.”

  When Analisa Storm nodded with an expression of incomprehension fleeting across her perfect features, Rosa flushed red. In her startled confusion, her English had momentarily left her. “Scusi.” She continued to blush. “I said I am very pleased to meet you.”

  “I am pleased to meet you, too,” Analisa said with a relieved smile. “Come, Kase is waiting.”

  As they neared the stairs, a man who reminded Rosa very much of Kase came from the kitchen bearing a tray laden with dishes. Analisa’s smile brightened at the sight of him, and Rosa was again arrested by her beauty. She watched as the two exchanged smiles before the man’s attention shifted to her.

  “You must be Rose,” he said, echoing his wife’s greeting. “Just in time to cajole Kase into eating. I seem to be at a loss in that department. I’m Caleb Storm.”

  “I am Rosa Audi,” she said, unable to stop staring at him. Although he and Kase were alike in many ways, from the deep blue-black hair and warm nutmeg skin tones to the sky-blue eyes, their basic facial structure was far different. Caleb Storm’s features were not so starkly chiseled as his son’s. His hair waved with a hint of curl while Kase’s was perfectly straight. Caleb’s lips were thinner, his nose shorter and narrower, where his son’s was full. Although Caleb Storm’s lips were far less intriguing, they seemed to curve more readily into a smile. As she looked from Caleb to Analisa and back again, Rosa knew where Kase had inherited his own striking, exotic looks.

  As they climbed the stairs, Analisa chatted about the cold weather and told Rosa that Quentin had gone into Cheyenne for three days. When they reached the door to Kase’s room, Analisa paused and Rosa waited as the other woman drew herself up even straighter, as if steeling herself to enter the room. A bright smile replaced the fleeting concern that darkened the woman’s blue eyes.

  “Look, Kase. See who is here,” Analisa announced with a flourish as she led Rosa and Caleb into the room.

  He had been staring out the window, and as the others entered, Kase swung his gaze toward the door. He smiled, but when his eyes met hers, Rosa became all too aware of the concern shadowed there. She took a deep breath and stepped close to the bed.

  “You look well today,” Rosa told him.

  “You think so?” He arched a brow.

  “I think so,” she said.

  Caleb set the tray on a bedside table before he moved to join his wife at the foot of their son’s bed. Rosa envied the easy way the man slipped his arm about Analisa’s waist and drew her to him. She could feel the concern they tried to hide from their son.

  “Sit down,” Kase invited, indicating the chair beside the bed.

  Used to sitting perched on the edge of his bed, Rosa realized that with his parents in the room, propriety dictated she keep her distance.

  “Quentin and Kase have told us all about you, Rosa,” Caleb said. “He says you’re the best cook in the States, and that you own your own café.”

  Rosa smiled, pleased with their compliments. “Everyone here likes my Italian food. I will bring you something special when I come again.”

  Analisa smiled and leaned against her husband. “I will look forward to it. I’m glad that Kase has found such a good friend. Quentin said you have spent many hours caring for our son. For this I am thankful.”

  “It is nothing,” Rosa assured them and turned to Kase. He was staring down at his folded hands. Friend? Had he not told his parents that they were to be married?

  As if he sensed the mounting tension, Caleb Storm stepped away from his wife and moved toward the door. “I’m sure you two would like to visit without us old folks standing around. See if you can get him to eat something, Miss Audi”—he nodded toward the tray—“before it all gets cold.”

  Analisa stopped beside the chair and extended an invitation for Rosa to join her later for tea downstairs. Rosa watched the woman go, the soft rustle of Analisa’s Scotch plaid dress the only sound in the room as she swept past her husband. Caleb paused in the doorway as if he was about to say more, then turned and walked away.

  Rosa wasted no time in moving to sit beside Kase. She reached out for his hands and leaned forward to kiss him. He did not protest, but neither did he respond when she pressed her lips against his. Rosa pulled back, pretending not to have noticed his lack of interest, but an overwhelming sadness swept through her.

  Unable to meet his eyes, she reached for the tray and carefully balanced it until he took it from her and set it on his lap. She removed a plate that covered a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup, unwrapped a hunk of warm bread, and poured him a glass of milk from an earthenware pitcher.

  Today, instead of his usual request that she share his meal, he said nothing as he began with the soup. Kase paused to blow on each spoonful to cool it while Rosa related the events of the pa
st two days. There was not much to tell. G.W. was down with a cough and so had not pestered her for two days. Rosa missed the child sorely. Al-Ray’s was now selling Christmas candies, and even though the holiday was still a month away, Flossie had decided to have a gala party.

  “I have promised to make bagna calda,” Rosa informed him and went on to tell him in detail about the traditional Piedmontese dish consisting of raw vegetables dipped in a sauce made of anchovies and garlic. “By then you will be better and we will go together.”

  The moment the words had been issued, Rosa knew she had made a grave error. Kase put down his spoon and looked at her. His eyes were shadowed with anger as he frowned.

  With a hard edge to his tone he said, “Look, Rose, it’s been two weeks and my wound is healing nicely, as the doctor puts it, but I still haven’t recovered any movement in my legs. I couldn’t get out of this bed if I had to, so I wish you’d quit talking as if it’s a possibility.”

  “But the doctor said there is no reason why you cannot walk. There is no reason why you will not get better.”

  “Don’t you think that if I could, I would?” He no longer tried to hide his simmering anger.

  Nor did she hide hers. “Sì, but I think you maybe give up.”

  He hit the bed with his fist and nearly upset the tray. Rosa reached out to keep it from overturning. “I’m not giving up, I’m trying to be realistic.”

  It was her turn to frown. “I do not understand.”

  He sighed and looked away, his attention focused on the wintry scene outside the window. “I think it would be better if you stopped coming out here, Rose.”

  She felt her heart skip a beat and thought surely she had mistaken the meaning of his words. When he failed to look at her, she knew she had not. Hadn’t they pledged their love to each other? Didn’t the fact that they were to marry mean that no matter what the future held, they would face it together?

  “Better for who?” She held her trembling fingers together in her lap.

  “Better for both of us.”

  “You did not tell them about us.” She nodded toward the door.

  “No.”

  Her intuition had been correct. He had not told his parents of their engagement. Now she understood why.

  “You do not love me.”

  His reaction to her words was swift. His eyes blazed as he stared back. He started to speak, then stopped. She saw his shoulders slump as he let out a long, slow breath. The passionate anger in his eyes dimmed. Kase shook his head and, without voicing the word “no,” said, “I think it’s best we forget about getting married.”

  Rosa blinked back her tears. As always, whenever she felt her temper snap, hot tears of anger betrayed her. She leaned close to Kase, afraid she might forget herself and begin shouting, afraid her voice would carry through the open door and down the stairs. “I think you are crazy, Kase Storm. I think it is not fair that you sit here and decide what is better for Rosa. It is better not to come here. It is better not to marry. You do not know what is better for me.”

  He answered with cold finality. “I know what’s best for me. My parents are here now. They can see to whatever I need. They want to take me back to Boston to see a specialist, and under the circumstances, I can’t very well argue, can I?”

  “But I can take care for you. I have the restaurant.” She watched his lips curve into a mocking half-smile.

  “You plan to slave over that oven day and night to make enough to support both of us? I have money of my own, Rose, and plenty of it. I didn’t need the damned job as marshal of Busted Heel, and if I’d had any sense, I’d never have come here at all.”

  He might as well have hit her. “And so you would not have met me, either,” she added.

  “Look, you’re too much of a woman to waste your life with half a man. I had my doubts about asking you to marry me, and things were a lot different then.”

  “Doubts?” She shook her head in disbelief.

  “Yeah, doubts. I should never have asked you to marry me. Things would have been hard enough on you, married to a half-breed, without this—”

  “Don’t say such things.”

  “I won’t have you married to a cripple, too. I’m sorry, Rose, but the wedding’s off.”

  “But I do not care that you don’t walk. I still love you.” She tried to accept the fact that his expression had closed down. He was staring at her as coldly as if she were a stranger. His frosty glare reminded her of the way he had looked when they first met.

  His voice was low, barely audible, when he turned to stare out the window. “I’d like you to leave now, Rose. If you think about what I’ve said, you’ll realize I’m right.”

  “I did not know you were a coward.” Slowly, with as much dignity as she could muster, Rosa stood. She balled her fists and hid them in the folds of her skirt as she stood staring down at him, trembling from head to toe. He would not look at her.

  Furious, too angry to cry in front of him, she turned away and stalked toward the door. Before she stepped into the hall, she paused to look back. It was hard to imagine that the strong, finely honed body that nearly filled the wide bed was disabled in any way. She could not bear to go without trying again.

  “I am going because you say to, but you are a fool, Kase Storm. When you change your mind, I will come again.”

  As she stared at his profile, he continued to ignore her.

  Unable to bear any more, she turned on her heel and left the room, but not without slamming the door behind her. Halfway down the stairs, Rosa felt her strength give way and she crumpled where she stood, lowering herself with one hand on the banister. Cradling her head in her arms, she sobbed against her knees.

  “Rosa?”

  Rosa did not have to look up to know when Analisa Storm sat beside her. The woman did not hesitate to wrap her arm around Rosa’s heaving shoulders and draw her near. Rosa was thankful that Analisa allowed her to sob out her sorrow and frustration without asking any questions as she held her close.

  When the soft, ragged sound of Rosa’s sobs reached him, Kase damned himself for the harsh way he had dealt with her. He set the tray on the bed beside him and threw back the covers, intent on going to her, before reality came crashing down around him and he remembered he could not walk.

  When his own eyes misted, he cursed his weakness and stared out at the snowscape.

  He had to let her go.

  For a solid week he had sought an alternative, but he had been unable to come up with one. There was no easy way, except to tell her good-bye. He had had hours to come to his decision and he hoped that once Rose was over the shock and rejection, his practical girl would understand the reason behind his rejection. By then he would be back in Boston and out of her life forever.

  His Rose. Would he ever learn not to think of her as his Rose?

  As he listened to the sound of her hollow sobs and shared her pain, he wished he could have been gentler—but he was certain that had he shown the least vulnerability, she would never have left him. What kind of life would she have had with a cripple? Certainly not the life she deserved, not after all she had already been through.

  He leaned back against the headboard and stared up at the patterned ceiling, willing himself not to hear the muffled sound of her crying in the stairwell, cursing the tears that dampened his own cheeks.

  “What’s all the caterwaulin’ for?” Zach asked from the foot of the stairs.

  Rosa sniffed and looked up, then rapidly palmed the tears from her cheeks. What had she been thinking of to let go and show such weakness before these people?

  “Are you all right now?” Analisa asked softly.

  The concern in her voice was nearly Rosa’s undoing, “Sì. I am good.”

  “Well?” Zach stood firm and stared up at them, his good eye nearly squinted shut as he frowned.

  “Rose is a little upset, Zach,” Analisa explained. “We will have a strong cup of tea and she will be better.”

  “Look
s to me like she needs a hell of a lot more’n a cup of tea. What’s wrong with Kase?”

  “Nothing,” Analisa assured him. He instantly looked relieved. “He is tired of being inside, I think.”

  “Bored, more’n likely. I’ll go up and bend his ear so’s you two can jaw over that tea.”

  “Thank you, Zach.” Analisa stood and helped Rosa rise.

  Rosa shook her head. “I want to go home. No tea.”

  “Please, stay,” Analisa insisted. “I think we must talk.”

  With a heavy, heartfelt sigh, she followed Kase’s mother down the stairs.

  “You take some store in makin’ widow women cry?”

  There was no mistaking Zach Elliot’s dry tone. Kase was glad he had gotten hold of his emotions before the scout crept up on him unannounced.

  “What are you talking about?” Kase feigned ignorance.

  “Just what I said. You had that gal spoutin’ like a waterin’ can a minute ago, and even if you don’t think I got a right to it, I want to know the reason why.”

  “You’re right. You don’t have a right to it.”

  Zach walked to the window and leaned against the sill. He slouched with his hands in his pockets, his hat pushed back onto the crown of his head. “That ain’t good enough.”

  Kase stared at him stonily and wished he would leave. “I told her the wedding’s off.”

  “Jest like that. You got any particular reason, or are you jest feelin’ ornery?”

  “I’ve got a reason.” Kase stared at his legs. “Two of them.” He thought he heard Zach mumble, “Shit.”

  “Feelin’ a bit sorry for yourself today, boy?”

  “Not as sorry as I have been. I feel as if I finally did something worthwhile.”

  “Like lettin’ that gal go away thinkin’ you don’t care anymore.”

  Kase shook his head. “No. Like letting her go so she’ll have some chance at happiness with a man who’s whole.”

  “Pretty damn noble of ya.”

  Kase ignored the cutting tone of Zach’s remark.

  “Pretty damn ignorant, too.”

  “That all depends on your point of view, I guess,” Kase countered.