The Country Rose

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Austen paced along the small porch of John's cottage. For days, Rose had ignored his calls. He didn't blame her after the way he'd handled their last conversation. He should've taken the hint that she wasn't interested in any apologizes. She would leave in few short weeks. What future did they have anyways?

Deep down, he knew Rose was right. Whatever was growing between them, it wasn't serious. It couldn't be. And yet, there Austen stood. For reasons he didn't understand he was drawn to her like a fly to honey, ready to cut through the thorns and apologize for letting his anger speak for him the other night.

But finding the courage to knock on her door wasn't the only problem. The biggest obstacle was the black Mercedes parked in the driveway. Austen wasn't sure if he was ready to face Shelby just yet, knowing what he did. Yes, she could be an evil witch at times, but he could only imagine what Shelby had gone through­ all those years ago—was still going through. But Austen was determined to make things right, and with a deep breath, he rapped against the door.

To his surprise, Shelby answered. Her eyes filled with unmistakable worry as she said, "Thank God you're here." Gripping his wrist, she pulled him through the cottage, her babbling quickening with their pace. "I don't know what's wrong with her. When I got here ..."

The rest of Shelby's words faded with the rest of the world as Austen's sole focus centered on Rose. Her blonde hair spread across the arm of the sofa, eyes closed, red lips slightly parted, chest barely rising.

He rushed to her side, his panic muting the shouts that flew from his mouth. "What happened?"

"I-I don't know. I found her like this. She called and said she was leaving but wanted to talk first, and then ..." A moment of eerie silence filled the room, before Shelby asked, "Does she have a drinking problem?"

"What?" Austen's gaze narrowed as unwillingly turned away from Rose. "No, why would you ask that?"

Shelby eyes widened with concern as she lifted an empty wine glass from the coffee table. "Because it looks like she drank herself silly. Honestly, I knew she was a troubled girl, but this is a bit much, don't you think?"

Austen chose to ignore the judgmental tone only the Clark women knew how to deliver so well, as if Shelby was appalled to be within close proximity to someone who showed any behavior she deemed inappropriate.

Something else was wrong with Rose. He could feel it in his bones. Lifting her from the sofa, Austen turned to Shelby and said, "I'm taking her to the hospital."

"What?" Genuine surprise flashed across Shelby's face. "Are you sure she doesn't need to just sleep it off? I mean, really, Austen. The girl­—"

"Could have alcohol poising," he finished. "I'm not going to take the chance."

Shelby was close on his heels as he carried Rose out to his truck. "If you think that's best­—"

"I do."

"Okay, I'll stay and try to call John to let him know. Are the guys having poker at your granddad's tonight?"

"What?" His mind raced with unwanted thoughts. He had to force himself to focus as Shelby repeated her question about his granddad. Poker game, poker game, he chanted, trying to collect his thoughts. A lot of the older generation got together each week. But what day is it? And what did it matter? The only thing that mattered at the moment was getting Rose to a doctor.

"I think so," he replied, half aware of Shelby's constant presence at his side.

"Okay, good. Good," she repeated. "I'll give them a ring."