When the Black Roses Grow (10 page)

“Or, should I say, I know I
will
tell you every day,” he whispered.

“Thou will?”

“Such is my intention, if you allow me.” One of his eyebrows raised and a bashful smile spread across his lips. “I do not wish to end our time with one another; however, those are my feelings. I do not know yours.”

I inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled slowly in hopes to bestow him just a few moments of torture and worry over my hesitation. Would I declare that I wished for him to remain in my life, or to leave me alone?

Certainly, I never wanted him to leave. However, with my thoughts—those wonderful thoughts of us together, waiting for the chance at freedom—the reality of the world outside silenced me.

Mary silenced me.

Deacon Pruett silenced me.

We could not hath forever together. And, that thought punched a hole in my chest, leaving me gasping for breath.

No, we could not hath forever, but, perhaps, we could hath, at least, an afternoon.

“Would you care for some tea?” I asked.

TEN

“You are awfully quiet all of a sudden,” James whispered as he sat on the floor next to me and handed me a cup of tea.

“Just lost in thought.”

“I must admit that I hath grown an attachment for the thing.” He pointed toward the vine sprouted on the other side of us as he sipped his cup.

Our one afternoon stretched into the darkness of the night and through the next morning. Hours spent with dinner of stew by candlelight, conversation until we fell asleep, and breakfast, sitting on the floor, in the corner, surrounded by the vine.

Dozens upon dozens of black roses bloomed from the new stems that sprouted in the wee hours of the morning while we slept. Their perfect petals, mocked me, and yet, drew me into their beauty with a mesmerizing trance.

I did not know if James wondered or worried about the unexplained dark magic. Surely, curiosity caught the better of him once or twice, and he would touch a few of the blossoms, watching them bounce from his nudge. Instead of recoiling from it, he only gazed upon it with a smirk on his lips, as though he and the plant shared a secret all to themselves.

“I could sit here with you all day,” he sighed, and laid down upon the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

“Me, too.”

In the hours of the time spent with him, love replaced my lust. Feelings I never thought possible were possible, and the lighted beacon of hope that I believed died long ago, burned as bright as the candles around the room.

I loved the man in front of me. My desire and passion drew into a deeper level of my soul—a wonderful sensation that left me breathless with excitement, and yet, terrified with endless waves of panic and the ever-present, nagging feeling of dread and anxiousness.

“But, I know we cannot.” Disappointment oozed through my tone. I wanted to relish in the changing wind that swept across my world, but forces beyond my power stopped me. “Or, shall I say we cannot, together?”

“Eventually, chores would force us to venture outside.” He chuckled at his thought.

I stared into my cup. Did he not fear another’s wrath or hold concern for our plight?

“Emmalynn? Care to tell me the thoughts that are obviously on thy mind?” He sat up and slid close to me.

I shook my head. The truth sat upon the tip of my tongue, but I could not utter the words.

“Doth thy shame concern you or our sin?”

My eyes met his. “Neither.”

“Then, why wage the war against thyself?” He reached up and brushed a few curls that fell into my eyelashes. “I learned long ago that despite my character, people will either accept me or hold my actions against me. No matter their choice, though, I live my life how I desire.”

His calmness was like a light in the darkness, a strong body to cling to in bad weather, and a rock that could hold the weight of the world. Yet, with the brawn came a sincere softness that dwelled equally in him, balancing him to a man unlike anyone I hath ever known.

I envied that.

But, I also feared that.

“To say such as you say, to cast aside consequence for desire . . . ‘tis a whole other truth I cannot face,” I said.

“And, what is the worst that could come to pass if we court and marry?”

“Death, James . . . death is the worst that could happen.”

He inhaled a deep breath. His eye twitched, and he wrapped his arms around me, drawing me tight into him. We both fell silent, listening to the birds chirping outside the windows with the shared wish they could drown out the words I had just laid upon us. I never desired to speak them, and yet, I needed to, needed to speak the honesty lurking in the shadows of our actions.

“Will thy take a walk with me?” His voice barely a whisper.

“But—”

“I do not mean a walk around the village. No one will see us where we are going.”

The sincere, loving sparkle in his eyes was difficult to ignore, and although hesitation simmered in my mind, I nodded.

He gently kissed me, then rose to his feet, offering me his hand. “Shall we?”

Before my mind wrapped around the concept of leaving, he had slipped on his boots and now waited for me by the door. He cleared his throat as he clasped his hands together and smiled.

I envied his excitement, desiring to share in it and savor it as much as he did. However, as I slipped my feet into my shoes, my thoughts only twisted in my gut. Solace in my four walls bestowed me with a deep sense of comfort. Comfort that, although I dwelled in sin, the sin was my own knowledge and no one else’s.

James patiently watched me. He smiled every time I caught his glance as though he sensed the nervousness pulsing through my veins.

“No one will see us.” Confidence sparkled in his eyes, an oath I clung to with a tight grip. “I promise you.”

Within minutes, we trekked down a tiny path through the trees. Hand in hand, I followed James as my shoes crunched on dirt and rocks. Every few steps, his fingers squeezed mine, and he glanced over his shoulder to bestow a seductive smile or a playful wink, both of which fluttered in my stomach and amused me.

The peaceful afternoon sun peaked through the tall forest trees, as birds chirped and jumped from branch to branch. Their wing feathers casted fluttering shadows down upon the forest floor. ‘Twas spring time in New England, a beautiful splendor of bright green that soothed the soul.

“Where are you taking me?”

“’Tis a surprise. But, I think you will rather enjoy thyself.”

“I hath never been this deep into the forest.”

“How long hath you lived in Salem?”

“My parents purchased their land and built their home about three months after my birth, I believe.”

“Must be difficult to live in one place for so long.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I do not know any place else.”

“I could not live with that yoke. I desire to see the world, not live a life in one place.”

“Unfortunately, women are born with one choice—to marry. It is not for me to choose a different life than the one forced upon me.”

“’Tis such a sorrowful truth.”

“And, yet, ‘tis still the truth.” I shied away from his gaze, unable to evade the pity that lurked behind the blue hue. I cleared my throat. “Do thou not care for living in Salem?”

“Salem has been an interesting place to live—different, and yet not. It mirrors other villages and towns we’ve passed through. While intriguing, there is still a level of monotony in Salem I cannot deny.”

“Monotony?”

“Church, praying, meals, praying, chores, praying, every day over and over, the same recurring mundane daily life, like a prison one cannot break free.” He inhaled a deep sigh, then exhaled slowly.

I hid my smile. I understood his grievance all too well. “And, how do you desire to live differently?”

He reached for my waist to help me through the thick brush. His fingers squeezed as they slid against my cotton dress. An embrace that sent my heart racing as branches of twigs and leaves rustled around us, whipping back and forth, as he held me.

“I want to live, not just exist.” Fierceness glistened and a wild passion seized his movements, and with his words, he pointed in every direction. “Do you not ever wish to hath freedom in thy life? To explore new places and learn about everything you can learn about?”

His intensity stirred in my blood, piquing a zest, unfamiliar to me. “I cannot deny the thought after hearing you speak of it. After my mother died I wanted nothing more than to leave Salem, but dreams rarely echo reality, especially when one doth not hath the means.”

“And, what if you acquired the means? What if the chance to explore and live somewhere else happened upon you? Would you then snatch the opportunity? Or, would you surrender to the mundane?”

“Are you asking me to leave Salem, Mr. DeKane?” I laughed.

His hands gripped my waist tighter with a roughness that set my body on fire. His eyes darkened, though not in anger, but in seriousness that stole my breath.

“Perhaps.” His unexpected answer was nothing more than a bold, quick response, all with a casual, and yet, audacious diplomacy.

My heart plummeted into my gut. My eyes darted to the ground.

His honesty toyed with my imagination and a bubbling anxiety rose in my chest. Images of far off lands and the unknown wilderness splendor I had never thought possible, now danced in front of me like a marionette.

I only needed to grasp it.

Could I grasp it? Could I leave everything I hath ever known?

“Why did you choose Salem? To live, I mean, if you do not care for the town, why choose to settle here?” I cleared my throat, trying to distract myself from the thought of leaving my home.

I cannot think of such an idea at this moment. I simply cannot.

He smirked at my deflection and as he released my waist, then grabbed my hand to lead me through the trees once more. “We happened along the village one night and decided we had traveled far enough away from Charles Towne that we would be safe.”

“Thou resided in Charles Towne?”

“For many, many years, actually.”

“My father used to tell me stories of Charles Towne. He always said it bustled with life every single day. He loved those stories.”

“I used to spend every second I could down near the Ashley River harbor watching the vast sea vessels sail in and out, either returning from or departing to some adventure. I use to dream that I would, one day, work on one of those ships, sailing off to distant lands.”

“My father loved the sea . . . my mother did not.” I laughed.

“I wanted to explore the world for myself, instead of listening to others speak about what they had seen.” All of the shimmering excitement is his eyes vanished, along with his beaming smile, and he breathed a few deep breaths. “I was determined to see as much of this world as I could. Of course, my plans changed after my parents died.”

“How did they die?”

He shook his head as the crease in his brow deepened. He opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing, and shook his head again. His pace quickened as he march down the path—an obvious subject he did not wish to broach.

“My apologies for asking, I did not mean—”

“I never wish to cast the notion that you cannot ask me any question you desire. I apologize if I did. I suppose ‘tis just difficult to speak of, even after the long years.”

“I understand if you do not wish to speak of them.”

“But, I do wish to speak of them with you.” He glanced over his shoulder and squeezed my hand tight in his. “They were hung for their treason. Hung because they chose to protect their children and hide them from the rest of the world.”

“You mean thy sister?”

He nodded. “One afternoon, during the fall harvest an Indian tribe attacked. They swept across our land and into Charles Towne, murdering anyone who crossed their path. In protecting my sister, I exposed her, our family, and what my parent’s had done.”

He bit his lip to silence himself. Grief flickered in his eyes again, a deep sense of torture that I empathized. I had witnessed myself the horrifying thoughts in his head—the agony of a loved one dying in front of you, and you, powerless to stop it.

“I hath not lived a day where I have not wished I could return to that day to change the events that happened. I should not hath forsaken my oath to keep our secret. ‘Twas the only mistake I hath ever made or will ever make.”

“She is alive, though. You protected her. What would hath happened if you had not done what you did? If they were alive, would she be dead?”

His brow furrowed, deepening the crease in his forehead. He shrugged his shoulders, but a plaguing doubt tormented him, even years later.

“I suppose the past is the past, and I can no more change it than anyone. But, I wanted you to know I understand thy sorrow for the loss of thy mother. I know what it feels like when a loved one is stolen from you beyond thy control.”

He gave me a half smile with a whisper of sadness, then continued to lead me along the path and through the trees.

His words spoke to the deepest part of my soul. He traveled down the same solitary road of losing someone dear to him, allowing the demon to strike him and hold onto him, chained, as I had allowed mine.

He understood parts of me that no one else did.

“We are almost there, just another bit to walk.”