Rose, Wilted: Book 1

Chapter 4 - The Colors of a Rose

That evening I leaned up against the side wall of the cottage next to the door. It was early sunset in the west and firelight adorned the sky, tinting the clouds coral, lilac and tangerine. Every tree was bathed in russet and gold from its leaves to its trunk and cast elongated shadows of dusk across the road. Warmth spilled across my face, probably tinting it orange. A serene smile crossed my lips and my eyelids grew heavy. It was nicer to enjoy the sunset outdoors than through the window. Mostly because Ilsa and Blair weren't here to insult me with their new nickname.

I turned my head as I heard the footfalls of a horse as it galloped up the road, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. I squinted to make out the rider, a boy in a loose shirt that had once been white and a pair of ragged leggings. A bag slung across his chest banged against his side with every jostle of the horse. I stumbled backward as he reigned the beast in and came to a sudden halt at the doorstep. His horse was panting and I could see its chestnut legs quivering with the exertion of riding so hard.

The boy looked me up and down, raised an eyebrow, then said,

" 'Scuse me Miss, but I've a letter for the Master of the house."

He dug through his bag, pulled out a letter and held it out to me.

I curtsied and took the letter.

"Of course. I'll see to it that he receives it. Would you like to come inside for some food? A stable for your horse?" I offered.

The young man looked relieved.

"It has been a long ride. Thank you Miss."

I smiled and held his horse for him while he dismounted. He let out a small groan and rubbed his saddle sore thighs with the heels of his palms.

"Feels so good to get off that horse," I heard him mutter.

After leading him to the stable, caring for the exhausted animal and putting it up with Bess, our Clydesdale workhorse, we walked back to the house, the letter still clutched in my hand. I wanted to rip it open, but I managed to keep my fingers from prying open the envelope.

After ushering him inside, introducing the young man and making him feel comfortable, Ilsa, Blair, Father and I sat down to hear what he had to say. I handed the envelope to Father, who opened it carefully. The rustle of paper was the only sound in the room as he read it through again and again. Ilsa craned her neck to try and get a glimpse of the words, but Father had already refolded it. I bit the inside of my cheek. Was it another debt to pay off? Another fee being charged? I shuddered. We'd had enough of them back in the city. Every letter since Father's three ships had vanished had been ever increasing demands for payment. There had been far too many.

But no, a grin was spreading across my father's face. A jovial laugh came from behind his lips. My eyebrows crept up on my forehead and I allowed my lips the beginnings of a smile, unsure just what I was smiling at.

"The Enchantress has come in to port!" he announced. I gasped. When my father had been a merchant in the city he had owned three ships. The third and smallest of the three was the one he spoke of..

"Well it must have taken an enchantress to bring this miracle to pass!" I exclaimed. "Or God himself. In either case, this is wonderful!"

Ilsa and Blair's looks changed to joyful looks of anticipation. We all knew what this could mean.

"Then we could move back to the city, couldn't we father?" Blair asked.

"It's certainly a possibility," Father said. His grin had never once left his countenance, not even for an instant.