When the Black Roses Grow

by Angela Christina Archer

  Heavy boots thumped across the floor and marched, one by one, up each of the stairs; the clunky thumps matched my thudding heartbeat. Within a few seconds, the large man I had seen strolling along the road stepped up onto the last rung and faced the three of us.

  “What do you think you are doing, bringing her here?” He pointed at me with his huge hand and fat finger.

  The fire in his eyes exaggerated the scar slashed across his face. Deeper than I once believed, the laceration left his eye discolored and his skin tight.

  I clutched the frame of the footboard, my knuckles white with fear from my death grip.

  “I wished to introduce her to Willow, and to you, too.” James braced his stance, squaring his shoulders and tightening his fists.

  Logan growled and strode a few steps toward us with his hands clasped in tight fists. “Are you daft? Hath you forgotten that no one is to know about Willow? If anyone discovers her whereabouts, or knows she exists—”

  “No one will discover her,” James snapped.

  “You hath complete faith that she will not tell anyone, then?” Logan, once again, pointed his finger at me.

  “I will not—”

  Logan shot me a fiery glare and I bit my tongue before another word came out. He did not want to hear what I had to say any more than he wanted to hear my voice.

  Heat prickled through my skin, like an odd itch I could not scratch, even if I tried—an annoying discomfort I tried to ignore. I had felt it once before, the same day I saw Willow, and struggled with the peddler trying to steal the goats.

  “She will not speak a word to anyone.”

  “How doth thee know that for certain?”

  “Because, she has already lied to the sheriff, the doctor, the reverend, and a deacon about seeing her, and you,” James shouted. “If she planned on divulging what she had witnessed, she would hath done so already.”

  “Not without certainty—and I do not know what you speak of. She has never seen me.”

  “The day you foolishly strolled along the road, down near the bridge, instead of staying in the cover of the trees. You happened upon a woman leading a herd of goats, did you not?”

  Logan shook his head, denying James’s accusation.

  “That woman was Emmalynn. You told me no one saw you and you forced Willow to speak untruthfully about that day.”

  Logan squared his chest to James and inhaled a deep breath. He held it for a long time before he exhaled with a deep groan and shook his head. No matter what James said, no matter how much his refuted words made sense, none of it would matter.

  “You will never convince me she will not breathe a word to anyone.”

  “’Tis thy problem then, Logan, and thine alone, because I believe she will not. I trust her and I think you are a fool not to.”

  Hot sparks flared through my chest—a dull pain, but such that caused me to squirm as I stood at the foot of Willow’s bed. I clutched my chest. My eyes fixed upon the floor, the world around me began to vanish as the panic set in, pulsing through my veins, and shortening my breaths. I did not know how much longer I could pretend nothing was happening to me.

  “Both of you, stop!” Willow’s shouted demand erupted in another, horrible coughing fit, and as she wiped her mouth, blood smeared across her chin.

  “Now look what thou hath done.” Logan strode over to the bed, jerked a rag from the pocket of his pants, soaked it in the water glass, and began cleaning her face. “You two need to leave, now.”

  James opened his mouth to retort, but I stepped forward and shook my head. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Willow.”

  “No, do not leave,” she cried as I retreated from the room. “I am all right. I will be all right for you to stay.”

  She slapped at Logan’s hands and jerked her head away from him, trying to snatch the wet rag from him to clean herself.

  “’Tis all right, Logan, I want her to stay. No one ever visits me or speaks to me. All I know is you, James, and this house—this tiresome house with the four lonely, dreary walls. I am chained to this bed, chained to you and James with a lock that doth not hath a key.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she continued to fight. Her life unfolded before me. While I loved the seclusion of my home, she battled hers. While I, although at times disliked my loneliness, I embraced it instead of challenged against it as she did.

  “Willow—”

  “No, Logan, no. You believe I do not know what is happening to me. I am sick and I am dying.”

  With her words, she began coughing again. Blood filled her mouth and streamed down her chin as it threatened to choke her. Logan grit his teeth together, his hands clenched into fists, and shook for a moment before his frustration vanished.

  “Please, Willow, please just rest,” he begged.

  Looking into his eyes, she surrendered to the pain and laid her head back against her pillow.

  Logan glanced at me, the once scorching fire in his eyes, demanding for me to leave, faded into a sincere and concerned request.

  A request I obliged. “Willow, you should get some rest. I will visit you again, as soon as can be arranged.”

  She smiled and drew the covers up toward her chin.

  I glanced at both of the men and glowered at them with equal disapproving glares before I marched toward the stairs. An argument that did not need to take place, they had caused her unnecessary worry and trauma.

  James quickly followed, and we stood alone downstairs just staring at one another with unspoken remorse in both of our eyes. Our intention for the visit, once believed for the better, suddenly seemed like a horrible mistake that weighed heavy on the both of us.

  “I should travel home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, I should not be here.”

  “But, I wanted to bring you here. I wanted to introduce you to Willow and Logan, although I do not know why him, I should hath known his reaction.”

  “He obviously has his reasons and they are not for me to know.” I shrugged my shoulders. One other thought burdened my mind. Words I did not wish to say, though I should. “James, you should spend thy time with Willow, not me.”

  “Do you believe I hath neglected her?”

  “No, no, ‘tis not what I desired to mean, I just—”

  “Emmalynn, I love my sister, but I also know the tragedy we face. She doth not hath long on this earth.”

  “No, she doth not, which is why thou should spend thy time with her now.”

  His shoulders hunched with guilt. “I never thought I hath neglected her. While I hath spent a few days in the village without coming home, ‘twas not often. Perhaps, twice or thrice in all the time we hath lived here.”

  “James, I did not mean to imply—”

  “I only hath done what I thought best. Our ties to the outside world are vital. Although, I suppose my actions were erroneous, but knowing one day I would not hath a sister to protect . . . perhaps, I was selfish.”

  “James, you are not—”

  “I only desired existence outside of this house, and outside of the death haunting us. She is dying, and she will leave us on this earth without her.”

  His guilt burdened him, but the reality of his sister’s fate nearly devastated him beyond rescue with an intense taxation that heaved through his chest.

  “And, what are we to do then? Remain here? Live as we hath been, angry brothers fighting over something beyond our control? I thirst for a life I can look forward to living.” He exhaled a deep breath. His eyes burned with tears. “I cannot save her.”

  “No, thou cannot.”

  “I only meant to foretaste a life with you.”

  His words punched my breath from my lungs. Surely, ones I desperately desired to hear, and yet, they traveled w
ith the devastating notion that they were useless.

  “What life?” I shook my head. “We cannot be together in Salem. Mary . . . Deacon Pruett . . . we cannot share a life outside the four walls of my home.”

  “I spoke to Deacon Pruett and informed him my intentions do not lie with his daughter. Surely, she will find another and forget all about me.”

  “Such will not matter. She could love a thousand men more than you, and marry one of them, but when she sees us together, she will know the truth and I will suffer at the hands of her wrath.”

  He bowed his head. Before either of us could say another word, Logan appeared from upstairs. His thumping steps mimicked my heartbeat and his presence the distraction neither of us wanted, but needed.

  “We should not argue in front of her.” Logan’s voice only deepened the mood of the room. “It saddens her too much.”

  “Then, why did you further the argument?”

  “Because, she should not be here.” Logan inhaled a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Perhaps, you should not, either.”

  James shot his brother a glare. He opened his mouth to retort, but Logan silenced him before he could utter a word.

  “You are far too occupied in the village enjoying the likes of Mary Pruett . . . or, I suppose, you hath found yourself another young lady to spend thy time with.”

  Logan gestured toward me as he strode past James, then tugged the material of his gloves to remove them. Once off, he threw them on the table. They landed with a slap against the wood, mirroring the distain of his tone. He fetched a spoon from the chopping table and tasted the stew that bubbled on the fire. He blew on the hot, steaming liquid before he shoved the utensil in his mouth.

  “Do not dare render me shameful for the choices I hath chose just because you feared choosing them for thyself.” James advanced toward his brother to exaggerate his point.

  Logan closed his eyes and his jaw clenched. The words James chose rang with a truth that angered him, though he did not wish to face the reason why.

  The war between the brothers began to wear on my nerves, weakening my reserves and suffocating me, in a slow and painful heartache. I desired nothing more than to hide in the corner away from the turmoil and frustration. Brother fought brother, chest to chest—equal in height and build, and neither of them surrendered to the other.

  By their tone, they had shared this argument before.

  Their anger with each other clawed at my skin, twisting in my stomach as I tried to focus on the wooden floor. Just as any other floor, I stared at each of the knots formed in some of the boards, studying the spiraled cracks filled with dirt.

  Each of the four walls of the room closed in upon me as the heat began to consume me. At first, not more than an annoying tickle, it grew as it warmed through my chest and stole my ability to breathe.

  “You know nothing about my life,” Logan sneered. “Or, how I hath suffered for you and thy sister. Hath you forgotten the sacrifice I made? What I renounced in order to leave when Mother and Father died?”

  “Which is why I do not understand why you do not wish to hath that again? Why hath you never fought for thyself?”

  “Thou believe I desire someone other than the woman I had?”

  “Then, why did she not travel with us?”

  “You know why she remained in Charles Towne. Not only could she not desert her dying Mother because of thy mistake, but she did not know of Willow’s existence.”

  “You could hath told her. If she loved you as much as you believed, she would hath understood—just as Emmalynn doth.”

  Logan spun on his heel and faced James. He opened his mouth and raised his hand in the air with one finger pointed directly at me.

  “So, she loves you, doth she?” Logan squared his shoulders and glanced at me. “So you love him, do you?”

  Before I could respond, his rant persisted. “Doth she know what you did, Brother? Doth she know of thy betrayal? Doth she know the truth? They are dead because you could not control thyself.” His voice rose as he pointed to his scarred face and then pointed at James. “You can never control thyself. It will happen again, and I will be damned if I lose Willow, too, because of what you are.”

  James growled through gritted teeth, his hands tightened into fists, and a torrent of anger sparked from his heated gaze, suffocating any happiness that dwelled in the light of the deep blue.

  Fire hot, my blood began to boil, seething though my veins.

  What is happening to me?

  I clutched my chest and set my gaze upon James. His sadness pierced me. Fury spread though my body. Hatred burned and flamed and blazed, deep inside my soul. My gasped breath was heavy with a wrath I had never felt before.

  I wished for his pain to leave. Never mine my own. I wanted his pain to leave.

  Light from the window dimmed. Once bright and sunny, the forest outside transformed into a dark, colorless version of what it had been. A breeze swirled through the leaves and blew them in all directions as they fluttered inside the cottage. Clouds arose in the sky. They boomed with a thunder that shuddered deep in my chest.

  In my panic, I reached out for James and touched his arm. The anger and fire throughout my body vanished within seconds. My lungs heaved, although everything around me remained motionless and silent.

  James shook his head as though lost in a sleeping daze, then suddenly wakened.

  Our eyes locked. I clutched my throat.

  Did he witness what I witnessed?

  Sunlight filtered through the window once more, illuminating the room. The wind had died down and vanished, just as the dark clouds, leaving nothing but clear blue sky.

  What was that?

  Both men stared at one another in silence as I caught my breath.

  “’Tis true, then, Brother.” Logan finally broke the unnatural hush. “You hath found her?”

  “Found who?” I asked.

  James eyed Logan. He inhaled a deep breath, exhaling slowly. A pained weight cloaked his shoulders, and yet, with a whisper of relief, as though he had waited for this moment his whole life. Waited for it, but also dreaded it for an unknown reason that plagued him deeply, like a forced honesty he did not wish to admit to himself, much less, anyone else.

  He ran his hands through his hair and cleared his throat.

  “Found who? And, what is true?” I asked.

  Indecision and mistrust oozed through his gaze and he shook his head.

  “What is true?” I pressed again.

  “That we hath discussed my past.”

  Liar’s guilt flickered in his blue eyes, but without complete certainty, I could only take him for his word. I gaped at him in silence. Unable to cope with the tension for another second, my nerves unraveled and I marched for the door.

  “Emmalynn?” James called out as I left the cabin. “Emmalynn, why are you leaving?” He grabbed my arm as I crossed the porch and spun me around to face him. “Why are you leaving?”

  “Are you being deceitful with me?” I reached for his hand and pried his fingers from around my arm.

  “Perhaps . . . perhaps, just a little.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, I did not know how you will receive the truth.”

  “The truth about?”

  Reservation brewed in his eyes with a fear that raged in the deep blue. Would I flee from him if I knew? Would his past be too haunting for me to cope?

  “A long time ago, when I was just a boy, my mother visited a Medicine woman. This woman spoke of a young girl in a distant town, a rare girl who would one day fall in love with and help her son.”

  He chuckled a little under his breath as he paused. “She spoke of that visit often. It gave her peace from the lack of knowledge regarding our future, I suppose, although I do n
ot know for certain.”

  I caught my breath. Did he believe I was a witch? Did he believe I could heal Willow?

  “James, I am not rare. I am a mere daughter of Eve, and a mere woman,” I paused as terrifying words lay on the tip of my tongue. “I am not a witch.”

  “I know you are not.” His body stiffened defensively. “Never once did I believe that you were a witch—”

  “You just spoke of a rare woman.”

  He gaped at me for a second. “When I spoke of a rare woman, I only meant one who would not judge Willow for anything other than the beautiful, young girl that she is, and who would overlook . . .” He began to pace. “Logan never found such a woman.”

  Logan’s words repeated in my head: Doth she know what you did? Doth she know of thy betrayal? Doth she know the truth? They are dead because you could not control thyself. You can never control thyself. It will happen again, and I will be damned if I lose Willow, too, because of what you are.

  You can never control thyself.

  Because of what you are.

  My eyes burned into his. “Thou are not being truthful with me.”

  “Ye—”

  I held up my hand to silence him. “Do not say that you are. For that will just be another untruth.” Tears misted my eyes.

  He inhaled a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he shook his head and closed his eyes. He fought an internal battle with himself, a war each piece of him desperately desired to win.

  “What I hath told you is all I can at the moment.”

  “Why?”

  “For thy protection. For Willow’s protection. And, for mine.”

  I glanced over to the window where Logan watched us with his arms folded across his chest, glaring as though he could hear every word of our hushed exchange.