Ghosts of the Past [RDR2]

Chapter 7 - To Those Left Behind

Word Count - 2250

Blue eyes met green for the briefest of moments, though it may have been an hour. It was like a dream had appeared in front of her, a man she knew was there, as handsome as he was ten years ago. Then he was gone just as quick. Her shaking hand dropped the low ball glass to the floor where it shattered into a thousand shards. Rosemary's mouth dried out as she seemed to freeze in place. Her muscles tensed up, unable, or unwilling to move for a long stretch of silence "Lauren? Are you alright?" Pete's, the barman's, voice echoed somewhere in the distance, barely reaching her conscious thought. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Snapping out of her transient state, Rosemary took a dive out from behind the bar and straight out the front door, frantically searching the street for the man she swore she had seen. This had been real and she was sure of it. Yet he was nowhere to be seen.

"Lauren, sweet, what are you doing? Have ya gone crazy or some'it?" Pete's voice reached her properly now "Who was that man?"

"I..." She faltered, still avidly searching the horizon for the man she swore was real "I don't know."

Pete's arm led her slowly back inside, the patrons of the bar giving her odd, or worried looks as she passed "C'mon, Miss Pennyworth. Lets just... Why don't you head home for the day? You don't seem fit. Just come back tomorrow when you're feeling more yer self."

Rosemary took a deep, shaking breath and glanced quickly around the bar, as though looking for Arthur Morgan's eyes to be staring back at her from one of the tables. Had that truly been him? Had he really been hidden at the back of the saloon for god knows how long and she hadn't noticed? "I..." She breathed "Okay. I'll... Okay." She picked up her coat from behind the bar "I'll see you... I'll see you tomorrow, Pete." Her voice was a shell of its normal vibrancy, her mind thinking only of one thing. Those bright blue eyes staring back at her.

Her feet dragged towards Sammy as she mounted the stallion. The horse had grown into his large feet, and stood a tall Suffulk Punch. He had proved more useful upon Rose's arrival in Strawberry. She'd spent the first six months of her wages on a small carriage made for medical use. It houses a bed in the back, intended for patients, and an apothecary drawer set for all the herbs and medicines.

This carriage was parked some ways to the north of Strawberry, on a hillside with the smouldering remains of the fire she had left mere hours ago, and a pot of still lukewarm stew. Rosemary had been using this carriage as her shelter for just over two years. It housed her well, and kept her dry and warm. Now resting by the fire as she stoked it back to life, Rose let out a deep, discontented sigh as her mind whirled with thought.

Had this truly not been Arthur? He looked just like him, the same scar in his chin, the same thick stubble - the same eyes. Yet he was nowhere to be seen. Rosemary remembered when Jacob Coors had saved her, how she had been so sure that Arthur was there too. But she had been oxygen deprived and desperate. Now? She was fine. She was happy, even. Yet still his face burned into her vision. Even down to the same, old hat he had worn - his father's hat.

He had told Rosemary about his father, one of their many nights. How he had died by the noose and how he had worn his hat in respect since. She loved those moments when he would share his life with her, and she would share hers.

Even if that had been Arthur, they were two entirely different people now. Ten years brings with it a lot of change. She had married and divorced, moved east, started a business and failed to make anything of herself. She had lost everything and rebuilt from the ashes. Was she even the same Rosemary Levenson he had left? Or was she entirely Lauren Pennyworth now? Had Rosemary Levenson truly been left back west?