For Whom the Roses Grow

by Rebekah Blackmore

  Jo and Dessie situated Mrs. Anderson in her chair. Once she was seated and had her blanket tucked in around her legs, they began to turn towards the kitchen so that they could bring supper out to the table. Susanna began to turn around with them, but Mrs. Anderson lunged forward and grabbed her hand. “Stay here with me,” she demanded, yanking on Susanna’s arm until she was sitting down in the dining chair next to her. “Let Joanna and Odessa finish making dinner. You were so quiet on the walk down here; how about you talk to me now?”

  “Uhm, well . . . yes?” Susanna worried her bottom lip and turned to Dessie and Jo, giving them an apologetic smile as she extracted her hand from Mrs. Anderson’s. “I mean, yes, Mrs. Anderson, of course I will sit with you.”

  Jo stared in disbelief at Mrs. Anderson for a moment before coming back to her senses and following Dessie into the kitchen. Things would have been a lot easier to bring supper into the dining room if there were three sets of hands, but Dessie and she would manage it somehow. They had gone a bit overboard with such large portions, but cooking one meal for the four of them was most definitely not something that the girls were used to doing.

  Jo took the serving bowl and placed it on the tray, taking care to ensure that it was placed close to the middle so that it wouldn’t flip the tray. She loaded the side dishes as well, moving them to the center, too. She picked the tray up and balanced it as Dessie gathered the cider, Mrs. Anderson's proper crystal goblets, the kitchen utensils, and the plates. Jo had meant to set the table before they had brought Mrs. Anderson down, but the older woman had gotten inpatient and began to bang on her floor. They had ignored her, at first, but the banging became too constant for them to get any more work done.

  “Ready?” Jo asked, popping her hip out and resting the edge of the tray against the top of her crinoline. Dessie nodded. They walked into the living room and placed the dishes down on the table in front of Mrs. Anderson.

  Dessie separated the plates and put one in each of the four spots before passing out the utensils. She put the glasses out, as well, as filled them up. Jo began to scoop some of the chicken dish and the vegetables into Mrs. Anderson's plate, but Mrs. Anderson placed a hand on her arm to stop here before Jo even had the spoon all the way in, saying something that surprised her almost as much as Mrs. Anderson wishing to dine with her servants did.

  “I can serve myself, dear. You and Dessie sit down and enjoy yourselves. You deserve a night off.”

  Giving the girls a night off was something that Mrs. Anderson never did, no matter what the situation. Jo and Dessie exchanged a look of confusion before doing as they were asked. Mrs. Anderson took the serving spoon out of the chicken and finished setting up her plate before reaching forward to either side of her to take Susanna and Dessie’s plates. She served them, too, scooping out almost double what she had served herself.

  When it came to Jo's plate, however, Mrs. Anderson handed it directly to her rather than sliding it across the table. She smiled warmly before giving Jo a wink, reaching out with her now-empty hand to wrap her fingers around Jo’s wrist, her thumb massaging Jo’s pulse point. “Here you are, dearest.”

  Jo flushed dark-red before looking over at Dessie and Susanna, both of whom let out choked noises before hiding their grins, ducking their heads down and eating their supper. Mrs. Anderson, too, began to eat, but Jo's racing heart and sweating palms were making her too uncomfortable to sup. Regardless, she didn't want Mrs. Anderson to think of her as rude, or for Dessie or Susanna to read into Jo's nervous state, so she forced herself to take a bite of the chicken.

  Fortunately, the small bite that Jo took was enough to reawaken her appetite. The chicken was juicy and flavorful, the aroma of oregano magnified by the basil and lemon that permeated the chicken. The vegetables were crisp and fresh, cooked with a bit of chicken stock to enhance the flavor. She had had plenty of delicious meals since she had moved into Mangrove House, but it was not often that her friends and she ate the same meal as they had made for Mrs. Anderson. It was rather enjoyable.

  Mrs. Anderson, too, seemed to be enjoying the meal. She devoured the plate in a very unladylike manner before grinning up at Jo. “I suspect that it was you that prepared our lovely dinner tonight? The flavors are very strong, my dear, and I can scarcely even taste my medicine.” She gave Susanna a pointed look before taking another large bite of her vegetables.

  Jo glanced at Susanna before shaking her head. “Ma'am, I was upstairs with you for much of the afternoon. No, it was Dessie who made tonight's feast.”

  Mrs. Anderson's eyes twinkled as she turned towards Dessie. “Well then. My apologies, Dessie. Everything is lovely."

  “Thank you, Mrs. Anderson.” Dessie looked proud of herself as she smiled, spots of color high on her cheeks as she turned her attention back to her supper with renewed vigor.

  Jo took a bite of her food before clearing her throat. “Susanna made dessert, too.”

  Mrs. Anderson turned to look at Susanna, the small, teasing smile on her face growing. “My, my, it seems that I should have come to this part of the house earlier. Perhaps it is something I will do again.”

  Jo nodded, but she wasn’t sure what to say in response. She looked down and took another bite of her chicken, her wrist still tingling from Mrs. Anderson’s touch.

  The rest of supper passed by in a blur. Jo ate all her other food, as did Dessie and Susanna, but Mrs. Anderson wasn’t as enthusiastic about finishing her meal. In fact, she somehow managed to fall asleep after eating only half of the food on her plate. Her head hung low, her nose parallel to her lap and her neck elongated at an uncomfortably wide angle.

  Jo stared at her for a moment before making her observations known. “It appears that our dear mistress has fallen asleep.”

  Susanna, who had been focused on her food, looked up. “Oh. It appears that she has. Dinner must have worn her out.” She glanced down at her plate before pushing it away. She stood up and made her way around the table until she was by Jo’s side. She took Jo’s empty plate and stacked it onto her own before putting her hand on Mrs. Anderson’s shoulder. She looked over at Dessie. “Dessie, sweetheart, do you mind cleaning up the kitchen while Jo and I take Mrs. Anderson up to bed?”

  “Of course not, Susanna,” Dessie said, grabbing the stack of dishes and getting up. She gathered everything onto the tray and made her way out of the room.

  Jo stood up, as well. She made eye contact with Susanna before hooking one arm around Mrs. Anderson’s back, the other under her knee. Susanna copied the position, and together, they lifted Mrs. Anderson. Jo let out a grunt as the combined weight of Mrs. Anderson’s sleeping form and the food that she ate hit her arms full force. It felt like Mrs. Anderson had swallowed as bag full of rocks rather than a few measly bites of food.

  Jo took a breath and put all her focus into getting the woman she venerated up to her room without dropping her or running her into walls. She forced herself not to think about the constant ache in her arms, or how every single step made it feel like there were thousands of pens and needles running from the base of her heel up to her hips. Moving her legs was painful, and she could feel her abdominal muscles cramping and straining with every inch she moved.

  It took almost a quarter of an hour for Jo and Susanna to make it all the way up to the bedroom. Sweat had begun to bead along Jo’s hairline towards the top of the first set of steps, and by the time she was halfway up the third, her hair was drenched. “Almost there,” she muttered, spreading her fingers out and trying to get a better grip. She let out a groan when her foot snagged on the hem of her dress, but she managed to keep herself steady enough to keep Mrs. Anderson in her arms.

  Fortunately, the pain of moving put Jo in enough of a daze that she went onto a complete fog about her surroundings, and the rest of the journey to the bedroom went by in a flash. The girls dumped her onto her bed as gently as they could, but with both of their arms overwhelmed with fatigue, it was more of a straight drop than it was an easing-in.
<
br />   Susanna pulled back the covers around Mrs. Anderson’s body and got her undressed while Jo went to the armoire to gather Mrs. Anderson’s nightclothes. She pulled out a woolen nightgown (Mrs. Anderson’s chamber still became chilly in the evenings, but it wasn’t cool enough to light the fire night after night), as well as two cotton frocks. She made sure to close the armoire before taking the clothes over to the bed and helping Susanna get Mrs. Anderson dressed.

  “She must have been very tired,” Susanna commented as Mrs. Anderson’s head flopped backwards, letting out a soft snore and her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth. She tugged the daytime dress off from around Mrs. Anderson’s pliant body and took the nightclothes from Jo’s hands.

  Together, Jo and Susanna got Mrs. Anderson dressed and tucked securely into bed. They left the room and shut the door behind them. They had barely made it into the hallway, however, when Susanna reached down and took her hand with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “My dear cousin, perhaps you could explain to me exactly what it was that happened tonight. I seem to have lost my way over the course of the last several hours.”

  Jo pulled her hand out of Susanna's grasp and shook her head, biting her lip and rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Mrs. Anderson decided to move her supper to her dining room, and then she decided that she wanted us to eat with her. You were there, remember?”

  “Well, yes, I understand that. Why did she make that change?”

  “I have not the foggiest idea. You will have to ask her.”

  Susanna snorted. “Do you really believe it has nothing to do with you?”

  Jo's heart began to beat faster. “Of course not, Susanna,” she said, her voice breaking and her lower lip quivering. “I am merely a worker in Mrs. Anderson's home. I have no say in the decisions that she makes regarding it.”

  Susanna stared at Jo for a moment before forcefully taking her hand again and dragging her down the hall to Jo's bedchamber. She interlaced their fingers and led Jo over to the bed, where she sat down before lying back. Immediately she pressed her shoulders against the pillows and pulled Jo against her chest like she used to do when they were children. She untied the ribbon that was holding Jo's long hair in place atop her head and used her fingers to untangle the braid.

  Jo was tense at first, but after a few minutes of Susanna's gentle, soothing touches, Jo felt much calmer and much more at ease than she had when she was around Mrs. Anderson. She appreciated Susanna's assistance, and she began to tell her so until Susanna whispered, “Mrs. Anderson and you, hmm?”

  Jo tried to move away from Susanna, but the girl's firm grip on her hair made it impossible to do so. Susanna smirked at her before moving her hand down to clutch at Jo's shoulder, the other hand moving back up to her hair. Jo let out a low growl, but it didn't intimate Susanna in the slightest. “That is very grown up of you, Joanna. I must say, I am impressed.”

  Another noise of irritation escaped from the back of Jo's throat. Susanna chuckled and moved her hand from Jo's hair to bop her on the nose. “You can argue with me all you want, Jo, but I can see it in your eyes when you look at her, and in hers when she looks at you. You two look at one another like Dessie and I.” She poked Jo's nose again before yawning. She finally unwound herself from around Jo and gave her a tired smile. “I best be getting some rest, cousin-mine.”

  “All right.” Jo had to bite her tongue to keep herself from expressing joy at having her cousin leave the room. She may be prying too deep into Jo's personal thoughts, but Jo still wasn't the kind of person to be so cruel. “Sweet dreams.”

  Susanna leaned forward and pressed a kiss into Jo's hair. “Sweet dreams.” She straightened her back and turned on her heel to walk out of the room.

  Once Jo's door was shut and the echoing of Susanna's footsteps clicking through the hall has ceased, Jo let out a groan and flopped back onto her bed. She tried to ignore the feeling in her gut reminding her that she was twenty-four, not two, and that she shouldn't be throwing tantrums about feeling unhappy and confused.

  Jo lied on her back and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, but was likely only a matter of minutes. Her mind was spinning as she thought about the changes that Mrs. Anderson's personality had taken over the course of only a couple of days. Jo hadn't wanted to admit it, but now, beneath the dark cloak of night, she couldn't help but realize that Dessie and Susanna had been right all along.

  Jo was falling in love with Mrs. Anderson.

  12

  Three weeks went by after Jo's epiphany without any change to Mrs. Anderson and her relationship. She continued to bring Mrs. Anderson her meals and dress her, and Dessie and Susanna had been alternating between working in the kitchen and helping take care of Mrs. Anderson. Mrs. Anderson, for the most part, continued her gentle persona, although there were days that the pain in her leg and the side-effects of her medicine made her more difficult to bear.

  She was especially moody when her stomach rejected the meals that Jo made for her.

  “I despise marmalade on my toast, you know that!” Mrs. Anderson snarled, flipping the bread off her plate and baring her teeth as it landed jelly-side down on the floor next to her feet. She kicked at it again and crossed her arms over her stomach, her eyes hardening as she glared at Jo.

  Jo let out a breath and put her hands on her hips, turning Mrs. Anderson's expression against her. “You loved it when I made it for you last Sunday.”

  “You had given me far too much of my medicine for me to realize what slop you were passing off as my breakfast. I am shocked I did not shrivel up and pass on from the poison that touched my lips.”

  Maybe you should have, then, Jo wanted to say, but she bit her tongue and held back. She crouched down as best she could in her heavy skirt and picked up the bread, using the hem of her gown to wipe some of the sticky sweets from the floor.

  Mrs. Anderson made a choked sound and moved to kick Jo to the side, much like she had done the bread. Jo let out another low, irate breath and shoved Mrs. Anderson's foot away before standing up. “Eat some of your fruit then, Mrs. Anderson. It would be a shame for you to spend the morning hungry simply because you are too stubborn to be grateful for what is in front of you.”

  Mrs. Anderson let out a gasp and sat up straighter, her hands gripping the arms of her chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “How dare you speak to me like that, Joanna. I should send you packing for being such an insolent little brat.”

  “All right, Mrs. Anderson.” Jo dropped the toast onto the woman's plate, grimacing as she caught sight of a strand of hair twirling up out of the marmalade, standing straight up in a pile of dust. She ground her teeth and closed her eyes for a moment before putting her hands back on her hips. “If you aren't going to eat, I daresay that I shouldn't even dress you. You won't be of any use to anyone if your stomach is empty.”

  Mrs. Anderson narrowed her eyes, but she didn't respond. She reached out and took a piece of the fruit before turning her sights back onto the bread. A look of disgust overcame her features as she noticed the hair, and she let out a whine as she plucked the strand from the orange goo. She shook it off her hand and onto the floor, looking back and forth pointedly between it and Jo's face.

  Jo pretended not to notice. “Mrs. Anderson, if you continue to refuse to eat, then fine. I will just have to give you your medicine some other way.” She ran her fingers over the thin needle and the glass bottle of Mrs. Anderson's new medicine that she had tucked into the sash of her skirt for reasons such as this.

  Mrs. Anderson locked her knees and sat up as straight as a pin, her posture rigid and unmoving as she studied Jo. “I doubt you possess the ability to medicate me, dear girl. Besides, I know what Doctor Lenaldi said about this new salve. It will strengthen the muscles, but it will do nothing for the pain. I will not take it.”

  Mrs. Anderson, of course, was correct. When Doctor Lenaldi came a week earlier to check on the progress of Mrs. Anderson's legs, he noticed a strengtheni
ng of the muscle fibers and a larger range of motion than he had seen in her months previously. He was hoping, for the first time since she fell ill, that she was going to be able to successfully walk again.

  Mrs. Anderson, however, seemed more than content with having the power to boss people around from her chair. She made a face at the marmalade again and crossed her arms, pointing her nose up and turning her head in the opposite direction.

  Jo shook her head and spun on her heel, turning her back towards Mrs. Anderson and moving towards the window so she could see what she was doing before pulling out the needle and the medicine bottle. She stuck the needle through a small hole in the lid, squinting her eyes as she struggled to read the grooves running alongside the glass syringe. Dessie had instructed her to fill the glass up to the second notch, but Jo was unsure if she meant the second from the bottom or the second from the top. She decided to go with the first option, lest she give Mrs. Anderson far too much of the medicine.

  Once the needle was filled to the proper dash, Jo flicked it in the middle to get rid of air bubbles, just like Dessie had shown her how to do. She glanced over her shoulder to see that Mrs. Anderson had turned before creeping over as quietly as she could. She took a deep breath and situated the needle firmly in her hand before raising it and sticking it into the side of Mrs. Anderson's neck, her thumb pushing down the lever before Mrs. Anderson even had time to process what was going on.

  When the syringe was half empty, Mrs. Anderson let out a strangled sound and lifted her hand, gripping at Jo's fingers and digging her nails into her palm as she tried to get Jo to release the syringe. Her breathing began to quicken, and her eyes began to bulge, and for one horrifying, agonizing minute Jo thought that she had just murdered the woman that she loved.