The Country Rose

Chapter 20

Rose teetered on the edge of two worlds. She hated dreams like these. They made it annoyingly difficult to focus.

A flash of yellow light. A rumbling diesel engine.

Then darkness. Sweet, numbing darkness.

Just when she thought she could rest peacefully, a magnitude of voices began barking orders above her, their harsh tones adding chaos to the drumbeat already pounding in the front of her mind. Lord have mercy on whoever was using her skull like a set of bongos because she was ready to strangle them into silence, as soon as she found the strength to open her eyes.

Flares of florescent light flashed through the darkness again, and yet, Rose clung to the shadows. The darkness was warmer. Quieter. She couldn't feel the pain in her throat there, or the cold clinical feeling of the light.

It would be like slipping into an eternal dream. She could paint her own little world on the dark canvas before her. A world with colorful sunsets and roses and tall trees. What a pretty world it would be. A world without lies and betrayals. Or pain.

Or Austen.

Austen. How did a man she had known for a short period of time become such a vital source of her existence? Whether he wanted it or not, Austen held her heart. She simply couldn't slip away without it. Without him.

Aunt Daphne would slap Rose silly for having such a thought, and yet there it was. He was better than any dream had to offer, and she would find a way back to him.

A warm stream of liquid fell across Rose's cheek as a new rhythm pounded through her head. The world spun again, and a wave of bitterness and vertigo washed over her.

Oh, the darkness was far more forgiving than the light.

But she would find a way back to him even if it killed her.

* * *

"They won't tell me much," Austen said into the phone he pressed against his ear. With eyes glued to his boots, his free hand swept over his forehead in a pathetic attempt to wipe the worries away. His sister listened intently on the other line. "God, Kinsley, what if I didn't get her here fast enough? What if—"

"You can stop right there, big bro. She's gonna be okay."

"I swear, the looks on their faces when we got here ..." A humorous laugh rose in his through, one filled with anguish and a deep desire to raise hell in the nurses' lounge. "They think she tried to ..."

The awful word twisted and clumped in his throat, gripping tight as he tried to force it out. It was all too real and too soon to be said aloud.

His sister's motherly voice poured out from the speaker and wrapped around him like a security blanket. "I don't believe it. And I don't mean that as an expression. I honestly don't think Rose would do it. Not like that."

Austen didn't believe it either, but darkness settled in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he may not know Rose after all. He knew her birthday and her favorite dinners. That she liked watching the sunrise. He knew her sides were ticklish hot zones, and the amusing way she bit her lips to try and prove otherwise.

But what kept her up at night? What worried her? And how many secrets and struggles truly hid behind that claret smile?

If he could go back in time, he'd kick himself for letting her walk away. For not understanding what she was going through. For being the cause of the heart wrenching look in her eyes as he told her to leave his home. Lord, he was a Grade-A asshole.