The Rose Necklace

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Adam! Can you come here a minute please?" Potter called from the kitchen.

Adam sighed, sat up, and pulled on his boots. He had been awake and dressed for a while, but he had been trying to recapture his dream. It was about Lilly; Adam hadn't seen her in so long. He wondered how she was doing. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind and focus. He walked down the short hallway to the kitchen where Potter sat waiting for him.

"About time. I need you to do something for me, if it isn't too much trouble."

"Of course it's no trouble. What do you need?"

"I could really use some of Ivy's joint medicine. My knees are killing me; I think there's a snow storm coming in. Anyway, I used up the last of it yesterday, and I'm in no condition to go get more. Would you mind terribly? I know you try to avoid her place, but-"

"I'm not trying to avoid her," Adam interjected. It was true; he wasn't trying to avoid Ivy or Lilly, he was simply following orders. To this day, his heart ached as he thought of the blank look in Lilly's brown eyes as she told him she hated him. Adam and Potter never spoke about that fateful day, but Adam knew that Potter was worried about him. Potter usually got his own medicine, and had taken Aster's place in getting medicine for the rest of the villagers too, leaving Adam no reason to visit anyway.

Adam walked over to the fire where a kettle of tea was heating. He grabbed two teacups from the cupboard, making sure he had his favorite cup. Not long after Adam had moved in with Potter, Potter had noticed that one of the teacups had a chip in its rim. Though he wanted to throw it out, Adam insisted that it was still perfectly functional. He made a point of using the little chipped teacup all the time now.

After pouring them both a cup of tea, Adam sat down at the table with Potter. "Do you have the list? I can get everyone else's medicine while I'm there too; it'll save you a trip."

"I'll go get that for you right now," Potter told him. He stood up with some effort, and limped his way down the short hall, returning a moment later with a slip of paper for Adam.

Adam didn't waste time thinking about what he was doing, preferring to just get it done. He grabbed the sled and started out, walking quickly in the brisk winter weather. He was nervous to go back; so much time had gone by since Adam last saw that smiling, brown-eyed little girl. The thought occurred to him that she would no longer be a little girl, but nearly a woman. Sixteen was the age that many women found husbands; Adam quickly calculated that she would be sixteen tomorrow. He wondered what she would do if he showed up on her doorstep then, a ring in hand, to propose before anyone else could. Seven years ago, he would have done it without thought, but now he knew that he would only be rejected.

His thoughts made the journey fly by, and soon he reached the small clearing. He just stood there a moment, on the edge of the woods, and observed this place that he had missed so much. He could see a snow-covered mound on the other end of the little meadow; their castle. He smiled as he thought about all the games they had played in it. His smile faded a bit as he thought about that birthday, so many years ago. Afterwards, Adam had convinced himself that he had imagined the green eyes and nasty temper; looking at the ruins, he wasn't so sure.

Gathering his courage, he walked toward the house. He was almost on the little doorstep when the flower bed caught his eye. He gasped as he took in the changes. Where the ten healthy lilies had once been, there was now only one, and it was in sad shape indeed. It looked ready to wilt at any time, like its companions had already done. Above the lilies, the roses growing on the side of the house were flourishing. Nine new buds had joined the original. Adam was certain he could have told someone the exact order they had grown. There was a subtle difference in each of the red roses. The original one retained its mist-like quality. Each one that had grown afterward had lost a bit of the mistiness, becoming more real and solid until the one that Adam was sure had grown last year on Lilly's fifteenth birthday. It was a deep crimson red, and held almost none of the indistinctness of the others. Adam wasn't sure how he had ever forgotten about the flowers, but now he knew he never would again.